#and if I were to go over every lyric from a will wood song that reminds me of him we’d be here a long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizziesangel · 4 months ago

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - all too well

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly) - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you & logan were a thing, but in the end it all fell down

WORD COUNT: 3462 (excl. song lyrics)

GENRE: angsty

CONTENT WARNING: english is not my first language, lowercase ahead, this is my third story soooo..., ik ppl say that the scarf is a metaphor, but here it's just a scarf <3

italics is a flashback <3

listen to 'all too well' (five minute version) from taylor swift for better experience <3.

‘i walked through the door with you

the air was cold

but something about it felt like home somehow

and i, left my scarf there at your sister's house

and you've still got it in your drawer even now'

the autumn cold bit at my cheeks as i stepped out of the car. i looked at the mansion before me, the x-mansion. i walked towards the tall doors where logan was standing. he took my bags as i walked through the doors. the old wood creaked slightly under our weight.

almost immediately i felt the warmth of the school. i took off my scarf with my gloves and jacket, it smelt like hot chocolate in here. reminding me of the times i used to spend christmas with my parents waiting on my chocolate milk my mom used to make.

professor x welcomed me with a charming smile. his school was spacious yet cozy, every nook and wall filled with complementing wooden furniture. i placed my bags by the stairs as charles led us into the living area. the room smelled even more of cinnamon and chocolate.

time flew by in that living room, sounds of loud laughter and chatting filled the whole massion. it was times like these i appreciated the most. students came wandering inside and outside, either sitting with us for a while or getting some snacks for their small gathering. charles told me that it wasn't always he let teens walk freely after curfew, but when it's the day before Christmas, who is he to say no to them?

i leaned my head against logan's shoulder, my stomach feeling content and full after consuming one too many cookies and chocolates. he placed a hand on my leg and asked if i wanted to go upstairs to rest, and i nodded in reply. so, we excused ourselves. teens were scattered around the hallways as the both of us walked towards my bags.

we reached the top of the staircase, and logan led me into his room. once we reached his room, we sat on his bed, and i opened my bag. i fished out my pajamas and turned around to change. after completely changing, logan appeared behind me, wrapping his arms around me and placing soft, gentle kisses on my shoulder.

'oh, your sweet disposition

and my wide-eyed gaze

we're singing in the car, getting lost upstate

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

and i can picture it after all these days'

the trees blurred by as logan sped down the twisting country roads, the wold a swirl of amber, gold, and russet tones. my window was down, letting the crisp autumn air rush in, my hair was in braids so that no small strands would fly in my face. logan was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping along to the rhythm of the music. i wasn't even sure if he knew where we were headed; we'd veered off course miles back, but neither of us seemed to mind.

"do you even know where we are?" i asked with a grin, my voice raised over the music.

he glanced over at me, his eyes had a sparkle i hadn't seen in so long, but had become so used to. "not a clue, but does it really matter?" he replied with a light hearted laugh.

i shook my head, it didn't. nothing mattered in that moment except the rush of the open road and the way we were singing along to the songs. his hoarse but sweet, wild but calm voice carried the melody effortlessly, even when my voice faltered.

leaves were spiralling down in slow, soothing cascades, covering the road in a blanket of color.

we didn't talk much during that drive, just let the music carry us further, winding through the countryside as if we could do this forever and never run out of road or gas. i could still picture that moment now, after all this time - the way he hummed along, the way the leaves fell like pieces of a story we didn't fully understand yet. but thinking back, it didn't matter, it used to feel right.

'and i know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more

and i might be okay but I'm not fine at all'

it had been months since i had last seen him. people assure me that time heals, that i'll be okay eventually, and maybe i will be. every day is the same; i get up, go to work, laugh when expected, smile when someone asks about my well-being. but it's the quiet moments of silence that the reality intrudes, like a wave crashing down upon me.

the happy feeling that once filled this place - has vanished, vanished for a while now. yet, there are moments, brief fragments of days, when i can still feel it - like a phantom limb. i find myself searching for you in a crowded place, then the realization dawns on me - he's not here anymore. and there's a big chance he won't be coming back to me.

'cause there we are again on that little town street

you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

wind in my hair, i was there

i remember it all too well'

it was a late afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in a tender, golden light. the small town we'd stumbled upon felt like a picture-perfect scene from a postcard - quiet streets lined with old brick buildings, trees bending overhead, their leaves tinged with the fading colors of autumn. we had been driving for hours, with no real destination in mind, again.

he was driving with one hand resting casually on the wheel. his gaze would flick between the road and me. every time his eyes met mine, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and i couldn't help but smile back, even though i tried act like i didn't notice. the windows were down, allowing the wind to dance through his hair.

the car slowed as we came up to a small intersection, the kind that didn't seem to need stoplights because the whole town was quiet - almost no cars to be seen. a red light was hanging above the street. it was as if his foot hesitated on the brake as his gaze lingered on me for just a second too long. i stretched out my arm towards his face, and redirected his gaze. the way he looked at me, almost took my breath away. the way he looked at me like there was no one else in the world, made me wonder what went wrong.

"you almost ran it, logan," i scolded him, half-laughing, as the car jolted to a stop just in time.

he chuckled lightheartedly in response, his voice carrying a sound that i cherished so much. "my bad, bub." his eyes twinkled in the red light.

i rolled my eyes, my heartbeat quickened, and i couldn't help the warmth that spread through me. the traffic signal changed to green, and he drove through the intersection. the town went by in slow motion, passing an old diner, a corner bookstore, and a nearby park where a few kids were running through the puddles and leaves, their laughter echoing slightly down the streets.

'photo album on the counter

your cheeks were turning red

you used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed

and your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team

you told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me'

a photo album was lying between us, logan was seated next to me in my classroom. i was trying to ignore how my past was so different from his, i had a better childhood than most of people here. logan's memories were scattered, and most of them too painful to keep.

logan let out a breath, "i don't have much to show from my past." his voice was low, there was a certain tension in the room, but not a negative one. "i don't have any pictures, or any family stories."

unconsciously, i started leaning in, he never liked to talk about his past. he kept it buried most of the time, but it felt different this time. his gaze flicked to the photo album for a moment, then back to me.

"i wasn't born as logan," he started, his jaw was clenching as he closed his mouth. "my real name was james, back in the 1800s," he explained. i tried not to gasp, my boyfriend was almost 200 years old. "i grew up in canada, in a rich family. my father wasn't really my father, though," his voice dropped a bit. "i was just a kid when it happened. my actual father showed up, and it got violent, i killed him," he looked at me. "i didn't mean to, but after all that happened, i didn't know what to do. i was so lost."

"i've fought wars, and then i ended up in an experiment from the government. they took away what little i had left, wiped my memories, turned me into a weapon. i was barely human." he clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. "i spent years to figure it out, but never got anywhere close."

logan looked up, his eyes meeting with mine. "i didn't think i had a future, not until you. i don't know if i can ever escape what i was,' logan whispered hoarsely. "but when i think of the future, it's not as dark as it used to be, not when you're in it."

i swallowed hard, the weight of what he was saying pressed down on me. he wasn't talking about the past anymore - he was offering a piece of himself, a fragile piece.

'and i know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do

and i forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to'

the mansion was buzzing with students talking and wandering around. i stood outside jean's classroom, watching through the gap of the door as he spoke with her. jean. the way he softened his voice when he talked to her, the way he stood just a little bit closer, like he was pulled towards her without even realizing it.

he used to look at me like that.

but it felt as if he was miles away, even though i was only a few steps from him. by now i should've gotten used to it, the way he kept slipping through my fingers, always just out of reach. but everytime it hit harder, that feeling of being so close and yet so far.

i knew that when i was with him, it was something real. we had something real. the late night talkes, our laughter echoing the hallways of the mansion. the way he used to look at me, with that glimmer in his eyes that made me believe we were something bigger. but then he got to know everyone better, and so she came along. jean, with her fiery red hair and pretty face, and suddenly, i wasn't enough for him.

'cause there we are again in the middle of the night

we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

down the stairs, i was there

i remember it all too well, yeah'

it was quite late - well past midnight - the mansion was quiet. the only light came from the soft, yellow glow of the refrigerator door we'd left open, casting shadows that extended across the kitchen floor and island. i couldn't remember what had brought us down there in the first place. perhaps it was his restless energy, or maybe it was mine. we found ourselves standing in the refrigerator light, laughing over some long-forgotten jest, our bare feet resting against the cool tiles.

he was leaning against the counter, arm crossed, a crooked smile on his face, gracing his features. it was a rare thing, that smile - so much gentler than the stern and hardened expression he typically wore in public.

out of the blue, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him, catching me off guard. i smiled softly, stumbling slightly into his chest as he started to spin me around. "what are you doing?" i asked, words bubbling out with a grin i couldn't keep off my face.

"dancin'," he smirked, his voice low and gravelly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

we swayed in the soft light, the gentle hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room. our feet were moving in perfect sync with each other, our footsteps barely audible against the smooth surface of the kitchen floor. the world outside didn't matter in moments like these, it was just us, lost in something that felt so small yet so infinite at the same time.

'and maybe we got lost in translation

maybe i asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there

I remember it all too well'

the moonlight streamed through the large windows in the hallway, casting long, eerie shadows that danced menacingly across the floor. the tension between logan and i had been building up for weeks, months even.

after what felt like an eternity, he finally walked in. his face was hard, guarded, a familiar look he always wore when he didn't want to deal with something. i could feel anger rising in my chest, yet underneath it all, there was another feeling, raw and painful.

"what's going on between you and jean?" my voice sharper than i meant it to be. he stopped in his tracks, eyebrows knitting together. "what're you talkin' about?" he said, his tone flat, evasive.

i sighed and pinched my nose, "you know what i'm talking about logan." he shook his head, denying everything i was saying.

"i see the way you look at her. like she's the only person in the room, the world even."

his fists clenched at his side, but he stayed silent. that only made it worse, made the hurt cut deeper. i could feel the tears threatening to fall down any minute, but i swallowed them down, refusing to show how much it hurt.

"maybe it was stupid to think we could ever be something more, that we might've had a chance. but, logan, whatever we had - it was real, good," my voice wavered. "you ruined it."

logan's eyes flicked to the floor, his jaw tight. "i didn't mean for it to happen like this, it's just you and me, remember?" he muttered, his voice was low, as if he was struggling to find the right words. "jean...she.. it's complicated, i didn't-"

"didn't what?" i interrupted, stepping closer towards him. "didn't mean to get lost in her? didn't mean to make me feel like i was never enough? ignoring me, the moment she stepped in the room?" i scoffed.

"i was there for you. i was there when you told me everything, when you let me in, and now you're throwing it all away for someone who doesn't even see you the way i do. she's with scott, logan!"

his eyes finally met mine, and for a split second, i though i saw something - a hint of regret, of the man i knew. but then his walls came back up, and he stepped away, creating a distance once again.

"i didn't tear it apart!" he growled, frustration simmering beneath his words. "it's not that simple."

"but it is," i whispered, my voice barely audible now. "it is simple, logan. you just don't want to see it."

once again, we stood there, inches apart but worlds away from each other. silence becoming suffocating, with all the thing that were said and unsaid, all the pieces of us that had shattered somewhere along the way. i wanted to reach out, but i couldn't, he was already gone.

'and you call me up again just to break me like a promise

so casually cruel in the name of being honest

i'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'cause i remember it all, all, all

too well'

it was cold and raining when i heard the phone ring - of course it was. the kind of rain that soaked through your clothes and settled deep into your skin. i sat on the edge of my couch, staring at the phone that hung on my wall, ringing. my stomach twisted in a familiar, painful knot. i knew that answering the phone would only hurt me even more, but i became so addicted to his voice, i couldn't stay away.

"logan," i said, keeping my voice firm and steady.

there was a pause on logan's end, i could hear his breath, heavy and uneven. my heart pounded in my chest, a small flicker of hope sparking against my better judgement.

“I wanted to talk,” logan said, his voice rough, strained. “About everything.” i let out a breath i was holding, letting his words sink in and physically melt from the sound of his voice.

my spine straightened, and that flicker of hope i'd been foolish enough to feel quickly died. a rustling sound came through from the other end. scott's voice came through the line, clear and hard.

"you need to stay away from jean," scott said without preamble, his tony cold. i shook my head, i did not need to hear this. this just made me question the fact that logan was still spending time with jean even more.

"she's not yours to run to whenever you feel like messing with someone's head, you've done enough damage."

i sighed, gripping the telephone tighter. i could hear logan protesting, but scott barely gave him a chance to talk. "and while you're at it, stay away from her too." scott's words hit like a slap to logan's face. "wh-"

"you know exactly who i'm talking about. you keep calling her, stringing her along whenever you can't figure out what you want, and i'm done watching from the sidelines. you don't get to hurt her anymore. so if you know what's good for you, you'll leave her alone," scott's voice was scarily calm.

i swallowed hard, i felt like i shouldn't be listening to this. scott's voice dropped lower, "and if you ever cared about her - about either of them - you won't call her again. don't show up. don't send a message. just let her be, logan." there was a long pause, and for a moment, i thought he'd hung up. "because if you keep calling her just to break her all over again, i'll make sure you never get the chance to do it again." i was surprised scott would talk for me like that. i never was really close with him.

"give me the phone, logan," and the line went dead.

i stood there, phone in my hand, i wanted to scream, cry, throw something, maybe even throw up. but i didn't, i just hung up the phone again and walked away.

'time won't fly, it's like i'm paralyzed by it,

i'd like to be my old self again.

but I'm still trying to find it.

after plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own.

now you mail back my things and i walk home alone,

but you keep my old scarf from that very first week.

'cause it reminds you of innocence,

and it smells like me.

you can't get rid of it,

'cause you remember it all too well, yeah'

it was a week that seemed to stretch on forever, time moving as slow as it could. i stood in my small home, staring at the box storm brought me that came from logan. it sat on the kitchen table. i already knew the contents of the box, my things, probably stuff i gave logan as well that he wouldn't want to keep anymore.

i opened the box, a couple of shirts, an old book i'd left in his room, little reminders of the nights we'd spend together. at the bottom of the box i found the scarf i'd wore when i first came to the mansion.

i held it up close, the soft fabric taking me back to that one autumn two years ago. back when it felt like we had all the time in the world.

but time made it so hard to forget. i'd tried so hard to go back to the person i used to be, before i met him - to the person who didn't get so wrapped up in boys.

'cause there we are again when i loved you so,

back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known.

it was rare, i was there, i remember it all too well.'

i remember it was a lazy summer afternoon when the air was thick with warmth and the world felt content. we were lying on the grass near the lake behind the mansion, the sun casted a golden light.

logan has his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky, while i laid next to him, tracing invisible shapes in the clouds with my mind. i turned my head towards him.

"so, what do you want to do this summer?" i said with a small smile, my fingers playing with the blanket we put down on the grass. "what would you do if we could just... take off for a bit?"

logan tilted his head towards me, "summer?" he chuckled softly. "i don't really think that far ahead."

i nudged him with my elbow, "come on, logan. dream a little, where would you go?"

he sighed, glancing at the sky. "somewhere quiet," he said after a moment. "someplace where there's nothing but trees and mountains. no noise, no people."

i nodded in agreement. "i could get behind that idea, we could find a cabin somewhere, spend our days walking around or sitting by a fire at night."

"yeah," he mumbled. "maybe get off the grid for a while, forget about everything. i watched him, feeling the what the words settled between us like a promise.

“mhm,” you agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “maybe get off the grid for a while. forget about everything.”

"i've never done that before," he said. "let myself think about things like that."

i looked over at him, "what do you mean?"

"something good," he replied, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "something that doesn't end in loss or running."

"you don't have to run anymore, logan," i said softly. "we could make those plans real. it would be just you and me."

he didn't respond right away, but i could see how his jaw clenched slightly. "it's just you and me," logan nodded.

i laid back down, my head resting against the grass. i closed my eyes, the warmth of the setting sun on my face.

'wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all.

down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all.

it was rare, i was there, i remember it all too well.'

267 notes · View notes

samsxowboyhat · 6 months ago

Text

Redacted headcannons BUT some of them are actually cannon

After Vincent got turned and William was positive he wouldn’t go on a bloodlust spree he would sometimes go out and forget he was rich

Asher was one of those overly excited tall scrawny kids who would get colorful bands on his braces

Aaron and Elliot would play as duo characters for every video game that allowed the player to select characters

Gavin would know how to do things but wouldn’t know how he knew how to do them

Laskos powers sometimes happen as a reflex like his fight or flight instinctively turns into float the second he feels his body falling or if he’s on high places(you wouldn’t catch this man on any roller coaster)

Sam has an old outdated picture of him and his grandmother that’s in black and white

All earth elementals are naturally strong, Water elementals are naturally smart, Fire elementals are naturally determined, and Air elementals are naturally focused

Milo and Sam’s family bloodline has/had problems with addiction so they never associate with alcohol or smoking with the fear that they could get addicted

Quinn used to “joke” with Darlin when they were still together by grabbing them and pretending to turn them when they weren’t paying attention and to this day they wonder if he was serious about biting them

Asher was one of those kids who would listen to old metal songs over and over(AND OVER) again until he learned the lyrics

Sam does own a cowboy hat and the Shaw pack(main 8) has made “save a horse, ride a cowboy” jokes(Sam doesn’t know wtf they’re talking about)

Darlin would lie to Gabe and David’s mom about their parents letting them stay over because they wouldn’t wanna go home

Lasko wears sweaters WITH EVERYTHING

Gavin got his music taste from FL when they first started meeting up claiming that he wanted to get closer to them rather than having sex with them

Darlin and Sam were cautious when they had their first time always asking each other if they were okay before, between, and afterwards

David’s contact name in the pack phones is “Davey” but they’ll never admit that to his face(he currently knows that Asher and Angel have it as theirs)

Gavin has nipple piercings and a tongue piercing(he has tried to convince Lasko to get one)

Darlin has a slight degrading kink that you could NEVER get them to admit(Sam found that out when they once started crying and he thought he hurt them and was flabbergasted when they told him to do it again)

ALL of Asher’s shoes are dirty except for his dress shoes and Milo gets so pissed when he wears nice sneakers and creases them or gets them dirty

Angel and Baabe both like kpop specifically Ateez and seventeen

Sam has a house in the woods and prefers a working house over a cute one(he has a porch swing)

Sam doesn’t like talking about his family but could go hours talking about his grandma

David hates the nickname “Dave”(don’t ask me why I just feel like he does)

Darlin once thought they hurt sams feelings and disappeared for days until they came back with a gift for him and waited until he saw it before talking to him(they’re terrible at apologizing and refused to tell Sam where they went while they were gone)

Porter always kisses Treasure's knuckles

FL has once broken a comb in caelums hair(but was so confused when they were able to move their hands through his hair)

The younger Shaw pack had a clubhouse in the woods in an abandoned cabin that Gabe helped David clean up

TS TOOK ME ALMOST 3 HOURS I QUIT(I’m lying:3 GM AND GN It’s currently 4:36 IN THE MORNING)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted #redacted headcanons #redacted asher #redacted darlin #redacted david #redacted lovely #redacted freelancer

238 notes · View notes

aheathen-conceivably · 2 months ago

Text

The soft ticking of a clock kept time in the corner of the room. For Antoine it seemed almost like a metronome, a steady beat to offset the rhythm of the fifth song he’d played for Zelda tonight. Or was it the sixth? The passage of time here just didn’t feel the same as it did on the road. It was softer, welcome even, the way the wrinkles on his hands made him smile now, or the laugh lines growing around Zelda’s eyes only made them sparkle more. It was safe. Like the loving embrace of home that only grows better with time.

He didn't need to look at the lyrics or the notes to play the songs anymore. Weeks of practice had ensured that. So his compositions sat in a pile next to Zelda's feet as she read and reread everything he had put to paper, spilled out before her like the contents of his soul laid bare. “Did you really write all of these in so little time?”

His coy smile told her yes, and his pride emanated through the room like afternoon sunbeams. It was hard not to smile back at him when she spoke. “It’s amazing. Truly.” Her thumb rustled back and forth over the paper, as though trying to pull what she wanted to ask from the words written there. “So you’re happy when you’re out there?”

A brief, pregnant pause filled the air, as though it were the last question he had expected her to ask, especially not when he had already said so much with every lyric at her feet. “I’m happy to be home.”

She set the paper in her hand down gently atop the jumble of other songs. She traced her finger along the messy script running from left to right, most of it filled with nothing but love and longing for her and their home. It should have made her happy, but it was hard to read them without remembering that those were the very things he had agreed to leave again so soon.

A less rational fear would have told her that he had written them as some sort of apology, a balm for the rhythm that was to become their lives now; but she knew better than to think he would ever be so dishonest. No, the rustling presence at her fingertips and the fear clouding her mind was more nefarious than that.

The soft sound of wood hitting the rug reverberated through the room as he set the guitar down between his legs and extended his hand. “Come here.”

She moved toward him, nestling herself where the guitar had been moments before. His arms wrapped around her as he spoke, "This isn't about the next tour, is it? You know what I said, Zelda. You say the word and I won't go. I mean it."

Yet the crinkle of paper at her feet continued to tell her that he meant it less than before.

She leaned her weight onto the hand running along her hair as she shook her head no, it wasn't about the next tour. He looked down straight into her eyes, which were filled with worry. “You don’t have to worry about me, my love. All I do is worry about you and Violette when I'm there. I don't want you here doing the same."

Her feet ever so gently pushed the pile of papers further away, taking with them the question he had never really answered. Are you happy when you’re out there? She tried to nudge away the thoughts they had spurred too.

But they clung to her like wisps of fabric trapped in the breeze, wanting so desperately to be let free but unable to do so. She had promised herself that wouldn't hold him back, and if nothing else, she was wise enough to understand that her own anxieties were unwanted thoughts from the depths of her mind sent to lead her astray. She wouldn't let them lead him away from his destiny too. “Its my job to worry. I always will. But this...”

She stopped, gesturing toward the song lyrics before she rolled her head onto him and transformed her mouth into a smile. Only as soon as her eyes met his, it spread across her face, and finally, the ragged edges of her worry flew away on the wind, “this makes me feel like it’s worth it. All of that time away. All of the moments of longing, that at least all of this came out of it. That you're happy."

He kept his hand on her chin and gently angled her face closer toward his own, as though to ensure her eyes stayed trained on his when she answered his question. "You promise me, Zelda? You promise that you're okay?"

Her answer came breathlessly, and with no memory that he was the one who had never answered her question in the first place. “I’m sure, I promise.”

Even if the papers rustling below my feet make me worried you are happy. Too happy. More happy than you are here. Or at least more inspired. More alive. And sooner or later they mean you'll stop coming home, because this is what you were made for, and I'm nothing but a line in a song about a woman you used to love.

#1935 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #Antoine Duplanchier #Zelda Darlington #1930s

124 notes · View notes

badomensgoodomens · 2 months ago

Text

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER TWO.

Noah Sebastian X reader

cw: emo. and mention of taylor swift. if u have a problem with that please get over it.

taglist at bottom of post.

He stared at the computer in front of him, nothing was working, the lyrics weren’t flowing and he was just a mess. his knee bounced up and down, his thoughts constantly went back to her, it had been a week since she completely shut him out. Blocked him and removed him from everything. All because he couldn't give her what she wanted.

he jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in” he croaked out, Nick's face scrunched up as he entered the studio, wincing at the bags under Noah's eyes. “You look like actual shit man.” he states, setting down a plate of food. He pulls up a chair next to him, grunting at the way it scraped along the wood floors. “Right, you won’t talk to jolly, you won’t talk to nicholas, what's got your knickers in a twist?” he said, resting his hands on his thighs. He came from good intent obviously, but it was painful how the boys wouldn't leave him alone.

“What are you? The fucking IRS?” Noah grumbled, picking at the food. “Is it a girl?” Nick asked, taking notice of the way Noah tensed. “It is a girl!!! Tell me everything.”

“Dude. you're crazy. If an art hoe is in love with you, you gotta bag her.” Nick said, nudging Noah. He shook his head, sighing. “You know I'm not ready for that.” Nick audibly groaned. “It’s always Natasha bro. You need to get over her.”

“I am over her! It’s just…” Noah took a deep breath. “You know how I am with commitment after that.”

Nick sighed, his shoulders visibly dropping.

“Lets get you into some therapy, hey?”

She was gutted, crying to every single Taylor Swift song that was even remotely related to her current situation. It took her a couple days to even leave the house. No long drive through the city, accompanied by fast food and sad songs, could save her from this. Her sister, Nevada, always told her never to fall too hard for a situationship, but I guess that advice fell on deaf ears.

‘Us’ played over the radio as she cruised through the bustling city part of florida.

‘I wonder if you regret, the secret of us’

Hearing those words sung was almost laughable, she was a silly girl for ever believing that she was in love. Tears clouded her vision as she drove, rain beating down on her windshield. It was only September, yet the seasons were changing drastically.

“I just wanted to be yours.”

The words came out in a broken whisper, almost a plea. Truth be told, she barely knew Noah. Never cared to look into his social status, his music, what he was like other than the feeling of his sex. She had created this false idea of what he was outside of sex. It made her want to tear her hair out.

Eventually, she couldn’t go any farther. She pulled over, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel, tears blurring her vision until the world outside became a hazy mess. She sobbed, gasping for breath, as though trying to expel the weight that had settled deep in her chest. All she could think was that she was waiting—for a sign, for some kind of message, anything that would make sense of the chaos, that would make this unbearable ache stop. A text. A call. A word, just one word to tell her it wasn’t really over, that there was still something left to hold on to.

It was a futile effort, her and Noah meant next to nothing. How is one supposed to build a thriving relationship off of a sex bond?

After a long phone call with her sister, she came to the conclusion she needed a change of scene. This town had seen too much of her, from every highschool heartbreak, to coming home at 4am from the club. Her art was never appreciated here either, no success at markets, or even by word of mouth. Her day job was excruciating, a boring cubicle with endless paperwork. Multiple times she’d considered giving up, leaving this boring life to live in a trailer park with some junkies, or move to LA and become a stripper.

It took awhile, but she packed up her studio, and her small townhouse, and took the long drive across to her sister’s house in California. Nevada had so graciously offered her a job as the barista in the small, quaint coffee shop she and her husband owned. She fell in love with Dawn in senior year, she was a cheerleader and he played in the band. He had successfully set off within the music industry, thus providing financial support to nevadas small coffee shop that probably loses 30k a year.

After a terrible night's sleep in a cheap, shitty motel, she pulled up to her sister's big white house. They both welcomed her with open arms, setting up the guest bedroom to be her temporary home until she got back on her feet. Her paintings being stored in the back shed.

For a while, things had been good. She was in a better place mentally, her routine steady with a reliable income from the coffee shop. Life in California was finally starting to feel right—like everything was falling into place. But then, as if on cue, her past came rushing back. Her ex from high school walked into the café, his new girlfriend in tow, and just when she thought she had control, disaster struck: the back shed went up in flames.

Her ex was just taunting, but the shed was gut wrenching. Her past lay scattered like ashes in the wind, each memory a flicker of flame extinguished, leaving only whispers of who she once was. Just as the remnants of a life turned to smoke drift into the afterlife, so too did her former self dissolve into the ether, leaving behind a haunting silence where laughter and light once thrived.

Dawn apologised profusely, explaining that his electrical gardening equipment had spontaneously combusted, turning everything, including the shed exterior, to ash. She brushed him off, it wasn’t his fault whatsoever, it was just daunting that she’d have to put all that behind her.

It was going to happen inevitably, but a more appropriate exit would have sufficed. She managed to book some therapy sessions. Just barely being able to pay for them. I mean, music in itself was a perfect form of therapy,

“It only hurts this much right now.”

Were the words she whispered at the beginning of each session. They were draining, and fried her social battery almost immediately. But they were helpful. Dr Sanchez was able to help her label the fact she allowed herself to fall easily, despite knowing the boundaries of their situationship.

It was hard, having to deal with the different diagnoses that came with therapy. Especially how Dr Sanchez was able to offer medication for Adhd and anxiety. It made her question a lot about her childhood. Her dad, who was never there, did not believe in mental health, much less not abusing his children. Her mom however was riddled with mental health issues, which definitely contributed to the divorce. Hence why Nevada was so quick to move away.

9/10 times when she got home from therapy, she would escape to her room. Instead of painting, she opted for drawing, sitting in front of the big window. The sun set, illuminating the soft pout of her lips as she concentrated, and the small dimples in her cheeks. She watched as the cars drove past, taking note of the gradual transition to headlights. Her mind subconsciously drifted back to her old life, having pondered so much of it with Dr Sanchez, it was almost a daily occurrence.

He had spent the past month drinking himself hopefully into a coma. He was butthurt for no reason, not even about y/n, but about everything, about Natasha. He had a nightmare about her recently, it set him back quite a bit, almost reversing all the therapy it took to get here. It was then that he made the conscious decision to take folios advice, and go back to therapy.

He kept drinking for a while after that, despite Jolly's constant complaints. Some of his best songs had always come from his drunk thoughts. Right now, they were deep into working on their newest album, fine-tuning each track. It was a shift in direction—blending elements of The Weeknd’s atmospheric style with hints of Bring Me The Horizon’s intensity

At the start of their new album cycle, Noah had 3 demos in production. The songs were oddly personal compared to previous albums, the boys just assumed Noah was finally channelling and dealing with his emotions through song following his return to therapy.

Not one week goes by where Noah doesn’t ponder about what could’ve been, with both Natasha and y/n. They honestly didn’t live far, Noah even considered visiting them. I’m sure Natasha would’ve been thrilled, y/n not so much. Didn’t stop him though, a whole year after they stopped talking, Noah found himself planted in front of y/n's house. Standing face to face with an empty block of land.

‘Fuck.’

It invoked something in him, an odd feeling that left him feeling unsettled and kind of woozy. He didn’t love her, he swore up and down he’d never date someone again. But as he slowly pushed his pride and fears aside, maybe she had wormed her way into his heart. With her warm skin and the scent of her perfume, or perhaps the cheeky smile always slung across her face.

It made him a little suicidal that he had somebody infront of him, that despite the sole purpose of their relationship was to be greedy, and seek sexual pleasure from eachother with no strings attached, was so, so deeply infatuated with him. He felt guilty that he wasn’t ready and in the right place to hand himself over to someone, yet still agreed to be friends with benefits. It was a selfish act, nobody could connect in the way that they did, and not fall in love.

Nothing has ever felt so wrong.

Tour had kicked off, something to distract Noah. He wrote and scrapped so many songs in the two years he had between touring. His song writing, and the new album sumerian was egging for, were a losing battle.

On a particularly windy night, Noah was sitting in the confines of his tiny bunk, hunched over his notebook. Nicholas poked his head in, staring at the tall man, concern lacing his tone. “You look like shit.” his words echo within the bus, earning a grunt of agreement from Joakim.

Noah rubbed a hand over his face, the words scribbled on the page barely making sense. “I know.” he grunted, crossing out a line. “Look, i get that sumerians on your dick about the new album but-” Noah cut him off, waving his hand in his face. “I don’t have time for a break. I’ve pushed it back far enough.” Noah grumbled out, pulling the black fabric of his curtain along the rod, concealing himself from his concerned bandmates.

‘I’m taking it slowly, you’d never know’

‘Her skin feels unholy, but I'm still drawn.’

‘No god, no religion. Just bad, bad decisions.’

The words made no sense by themselves, but they sounded right. He took a swig of hennessy, the bitterness burning his tongue. it almost made him laugh, thinking back to that night. Their relationship was just one, big bad decision.

‘Bitter ends to the night’

‘I'm along for the ride.’

‘Out of breath out of time.’

‘Everything has a price.’

The way everything flowed together made Noah want to tear his own skin.

‘You can be all ive got, what's the difference?’

‘Hennessy, and a lot of bad decisions.’

The song itself made Noah think deeply if perhaps everything that happened had stemmed from his ‘slight’ alcohol problem that had lingered from the stress of last tour. He had managed to polish off a whole bottle of hennessy and a whole new song by 2am. Drunkenly sliding under the covers to fall asleep.

He awoke to Nick and Nicholas standing above him, reading the notebook he had forgotten to stash away. Immediate regret filled his stomach, this is not what he needed.

“Yooo is this about art hoe? Damn bro she got you messed up,” Nick said, laughing.

“Who the fuck is art hoe?” Nicholas says, brows furrowed as he read over the lyrics.

Noah rubbed his hands over his face, groaning internally. He was hungover and not about to deal with their shit today.

READERS POV

I tied the apron around my waist with a weary sigh. Morning shifts at the café were always tough. It was early November, and winter was starting to creep in, its chill settling in the air. After flicking on the lights, I got to work, preparing the weekly specials with practised ease.

A small interchangeable collection of cakes Nevada and I designed. I’ve taken an interest in design lately, taking short classes at the local uni. I was gradually ticking off the long strenuous list of chores when the bell above the door rang. Looking up, I met the eyes of a happy looking boy.

“Hey, what can I get you?” I smiled up at him, his dark brown hair was loosely combed back, his nose adorned a silver ring, a grin on his face.

“I’ve got quite the order, if you don’t mind.” he said, pulling his phone out. I internally groan, peering over the counter to the long message laying out his order.

“Okay.. perfect. Let me just type that into the system..” I hummed, lip between my teeth as I focused. “Alright, name?” I said, looking up at the boy, taking notice of the casualness, and sweetness radiating off of him.

“Nick” he replied, a small smile on his face. He really was beautiful, ugh. And youthful, how old was this guy? “Alright, that’ll be $63.80” I respond, a little astounded myself at the price. “Fuck, sorry one moment please.” he smiled, pulling his phone out. I make myself busy, cleaning up my mess from before, managing to catch on briefly to the end of his phone call conversation.

“Alright, I'll just use the band card-”

Huh. Maybe this guy is a musician or something. I've definitely dealt with a fareshare of musicians.

All done?" I asked, smiling at him. He nodded, handing over the payment for the drinks. The bell above the door jingled as Nevada rushes in, offering a flurry of hurried apologies as she quickly tied her apron and hurried behind the counter.

It took a while, but we finally sent Nick off with his seven drinks. The day moved slowly after that—Fridays aren’t exactly prime café days. Most people prefer hitting up bars or catching a gig. I used to enjoy concerts, but these days, I’ve become more of a homebody.

“Yo dude i saw the cutest girl at the coffee shop-” Noah groaned, having heard enough of Nick’s questionable relationship choices while on tour. “No- seriously, she had this long, thick hair. She probably has a boyfriend though. Californian boys snatch the hot ones up real quick-” fuck? This kid was yapping.

“Do you say that about every girl you see?” Jolly snorted, throwing a pillow in Nick's direction. He scoffed, throwing it back. The smaller boy sits down next to Noah on the bunks, handing him a controller. “You’re all so uptight, come on, play a round of mario kart with me.”

Nights like these always ended the same, drunk rounds of mario kart followed by play fighting until everyone was too tired to move. The sun set hours ago, yet Noah found himself sitting on the bus roof with his notebook. The creative flair just wasn’t quite there though, the page having been empty for the past hour. He was feeling so many different, violent emotions, yet none at the same time. It was hard to portray these emotions in a controlled way, especially during tour. He tried not to let the boys see him when he was most vulnerable, wanting to maintain the respect they had for him. It was unrealistic, almost like a ticking time bomb.

When Noah went back inside, Nicholas, his best friend, was the only one still awake. They sat opposite each other on the leather couch, beer in hand. “How’s the missus?” Noah slurred, taking a swig. “Ivy’s good, I really wanna marry her, yaknow?” Nicholas slurred back. The mention of marriage knocks the breath out of Noah’s lungs. “I wanted to marry Natasha.” he drunkenly murmured, slumping back on the couch. “I think she was a porn star.” Nicholas mumbled, his words make Noah laugh.

She laid staring at her ceiling, the window, which faced the city, was cracked open the slightest. Something so melancholic, yet comforting about laying in the dark, just feeling feelings.

Not even about anyone in particular, just feelings.

She knew she needed to be awake at 6am for work, but the feeling pooling in her stomach was addicting, overwhelming, and most of all, fucking amazing. It was like a coil, seconds away from laughing, seconds away from crying.

hi gang!!! see, this one is somewhat better than the first chapter. I understand if you feel that this story is moving too fast but honey... this is just the beginning xoxo.

reply to be added to the taglist x

Tags: @emluvsuxo @Ima1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy

93 notes · View notes

ch3rrybbie · 1 month ago

Text

Need.

Randall Kirkland x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

———

Summary: You can’t seem to stay away from Randall, you’re yet to speak and he can’t stop staring. Why do you feel like you know him? What does he want? What do you need?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, masturbation, smutty daydreams, y/n is stubborn asf.

Note from author: Hi there! Tysm to the love on the snippet I put out, I just randomly write it and decided to share it and I’m so glad I did lol. I hope this lives up to what yall were expecting and I hope you enjoy. I will deffo probs write more for Randall and other fandoms so drop requests( hopefully Ik them). Also this is basically my first ever fic and time writing smut so pls be nice and I hope it’s not too bad lmao😭😭😭

———

You’d been in town for four months now. And as much as a hell hole as it could and would prove itself to be you were thankful for the reprieve from the outside world. You’d come alone on a post college road trip looking for something anything as to what your life should be as to who you would be. Then came the crows the tree and the bogeymen in the woods.

———

Life soon became mundane, wake, work eat sleep repeat. You’d decided to live in town and not colony house,your double bed becoming a lifesaver through those long cold nights. Whilst your house didn’t have the charm of your dorm or home bedroom you tried your best. Forgoing fairy lights and band posters you supplemented with writing down song lyrics and crudely drawn flowers on the walls you were no artist but it was something to look at before the whispering and tapping got too loud and you reverted back to tucking your head under the covers, knowing all that kept you from them was a rock loosely strung on the door.But you spent your fair share of time at colony house helping rule the roost with Donna and she’d grown to love you fiercely like a daughter and it kept you going.

The day the bus arrived,the day he came,was almost alike any other. You woke at sunrise to help Tian Chen with opening the diner after Sara’s…retirement. You were wiping down the tables when you saw it through the windows. The bus had lazily rolled in and heaved to a stop right outside the diner and you saw him swing off its disgruntled steps. Tall, toned with a buzzed head and a face like thunder you mused to yourself. But there was something maybe lust or the delirious state the town caused, something tugged you to him. A feeling that you should go let him know you were there, an obligation.

You heaved the thought down, as unpleasant as swallowing bile.

———

Upon Kenny’s command you resigned yourself to ushering in the bus folk. Your eyes caught Donna’s and with it you passed a sympathetic glare you hoped she understood its messaging-“I’m sorry you have to go this again but don’t be too much of a bitch with them”.

Most of them were heartwarmingly lovely to a point your heart broke, they didn’t know the fate that had befallen them.The pain and suffering they were yet to face. You remembered exactly how each and every second felt and resorted to flittering around helping how you could, making sure their steaming cups of herbal tea were always brimming. As you were filling an old lady’s second cup you heard a gunshot go off.

Your world span. Ears ringing you dropped the cup it’s shatter giving music to your pounding steps as you burst out the diner.

“Donna?!” you yelled praying she’d be able to answer.

“I’m fine sweetie but hold the door” she casually threw back her eyes trained on someone, gun pushed into their chest.

Burning heat arose as he turned his head, his furrowed brows lifting as soon as he saw you a confused look replacing his disgruntled one. He cocked an eyebrow, as if to say you know this crazy bitch??? You ignored him and felt envy flush over you as you watched Ellis and Fatima run off hand in hand after escaping bus passengers.

You wondered if you’d ever have someone that would run with you into danger without a second thought.

You begrudgingly followed Donna’s request ushering the last of the bus strangers into the diner hoping the simulated warmth would numb the fear of the tapping and whispering yet to come.

Donna kept him for last seemingly keeping a close eye on him gun nudging him periodically. Time seemed to slow the closer he got, his stature seemed to exaggerate with his hands strung loosely in the air, a sarcastic surrender. He was surprisingly stocky, muscles taught as his agitation grew stronger.

Your eyes once again locked and your breath caught in your throat. A spark lit within your stomach and spread all throughout you. He had a similar lust struck gaze yet his eyes never left yours,never once walked across your body.

You snapped your head away.

Donna incredulously looked between the two of you and shoved him into the diner. You dared not to turn and look for him in the sea of strangers. And yet that did nothing to quell you swelling desire, you felt it cresting, waiting to come crashing down.

It was going to be a long night.

———

As soon as the sun streaked through the windows you legged it out of there citing a lack of sleep. Which was true you felt his gaze on you the whole night and you hadn’t looked once.

———

It’d been a few days since you’d had your weird eye fuck with the stranger from the bus. Randall, as you’d come to find out and you’d vowed to push aside all thoughts of him and refusing to even use his name although your only danger of using it was at night when your convictions stuttered and were only quelled by toe curling thoughts of him.

Issue was he did anything but ignore you. He was everywhere.

He was at colony house arguing with Donna. He was atop the bus staring down all who dare walk past. Hell he was even occasionally scoffing his face in the diner. And yet you avoided him, not a single word uttered yet he had your heart hitching.

His staring persisted despite your avoidance. It seemed to only make him hungrier to see you.

You found yourself slipping into thoughts of what he smelt, tasted and fucked like.

Thoughts. That was all you could have.

No more.

———

You were trudging up to colony house after a late night drinking with Jade, in summary you lost your bet of out drinking him and he soon was let in on your little secret. But you trusted him. The only person you could never tell was looking at you a face like thunder. Your confusion clouded your perception and failed to see Randall him marching away from Donna.

Your breath caught in your throat as he got closer, you felt exposed. It was a balmy spring day so you’d sported jeans and a tank top thinking nothing of it. He finally let his eyes slip down your body, staring greedily, seemingly committing it to memory.

You’d reprimand him if you weren’t doing the same.

He wore a white tank with an open t shirt strung on top, his jeans tight in all the right places. You were about to look at his arms again before the muscle in his jaw clenched harder and he barrelled on.

Donna loomed at the top of the porch steps a face like thunder. And yet she didn’t care to rant about the backend of the altercation you saw.

Shit.

“You greenhouse now” she spat.

Fuck.

She shut the door behind the two of you with a slam so you opted to give your now peace offering, “Look here’s the bulb I told you about I think it’s gonna look great with the-“.

“Honey, we all have needs and wants I understand that but HIM?!” she flung out incredulously hands on hips. With your face a mixture of horror and confusion she continued “I saw the way you two looked at each other that first day at the diner and I’m sure you’ve done more than look since, hell what was that just now?!”

God you wished.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Donna nothings happened, and as far as I’m concerned nothing will”

Her shoulders sagged and she sighed, “Good , you deserve someone better than him”

You cringed at that. Was he that bad?

“Now show me my beautiful new tulip bulb” she proclaimed.

———

Donna’s comment had been bouncing around your head for days alongside seeing less of Randall him, tension was building.

Yesterday you spied him working on a truck and couldn’t help but walk closer. He Sported the same white tank that exposed this thick corded arms. He’d grunted as he’d rolled himself under the truck. Jeans straining to contain him, legs spread. Arms straining with force. You imagined what it’d be like to even sit on his lap clothed, how good you’d feel.

How good you could make him feel.

You’d pictured him taking you pressed against the hood of the truck. Skirt flipped up, exposed for all to see. Tits bare and pebbling against the cold harsh metal. He’d stroke you first you were sure, then he’d fuck his thick cock into you. Uniting pain and pleasure,he’d make you taste yourself on his thick calloused fingers as he took you for all to see.

The day dream vanished as you watched a girl from colony house , Lola? Lila?, walk up to him and hand him water as he rolled out from under the truck.

Your heart dropped and an amassing wave of disappointment came over you. Albeit foolishly , you’d thought his attention had been solely concentrated on you and not whoever would reciprocate it.

You turned walked home before he could see you.

That night you couldn’t help but call his name as you came to the thought of him working on his truck.

———

The last place you could think of being alone was the woods, I mean your bedroom was the other but your thoughts couldn’t be controlled there as you’d realised last night.

After seeing him with the girl from colony house your conviction became stronger. And you decided to strengthen it alone in the woods the last thing you needed was to see him.

You started your descent into the peace, the trees were lush with greenery and swayed welcomingly. It was a thick, sweaty day. Your sundress swung as you walked providing the cool breeze you needed.How funny, you were trapped in a hellish town full of monsters human and other and yet it was so beautiful. Flowers were starting to sprout up through the dense leaves of the forest floor and you couldn’t help but be entranced. The less funny part was who your brain was obsessed with happened to be who you had decided was the resident fuck boy.

“Hey”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart pounded in your chest knowing the monsters wouldn’t be so polite. Your eyes were snatched up from the forest floor to all six foot of him lazily leaning across a tree. Same tank top and jeans as your daydream. He must be on break from working on his truck.

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK. He looks good.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” He inquired.

You awkwardly shuffled and looked around.

“Sorry forgot everything is secret here, you smoke?” He asked coolly

Taken by surprise you chuckled, “uhhhh yeah before, well you know” you gestured around you.

He hummed cigarette already between his teeth.in one slick motion he’d lit it and started steadily approaching you taking a drag. He lazily held it to you.

You leant forward not breaking eye contact as hou took a drag, cigarette still between his fingers. You could’ve sworn he swallowed harshly, but the moment was cut short as you spluttered and coughed.

It’d been awhile since you’d last smoked.

He laughed heartily and his hand slipped to your back stroking and patting till your coughing seized. His hand awkwardly retracted and you longed for its warmth to grace you again. He attempted to strike up a conversation again before seeming to change his mind, lips pressing back together.

They looked soft.

He had always seemed so sure of himself how strange you mused to yourself.

“I’ve seen you staring at me” you burst out, regretting it as soon as it fled you lips. So much for secrecy.

He chuckled caught aback then grew somewhat serious taking another drag, “You like it?”

“No” you lied through your teeth

“Really?” He smirked.

He paused, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you looking back sweetheart”

He looked satisfied with his own reply slowly walking back shrugging and once again leaning against the tree.

He smiled a boyishly handsome grin,took a longer drag taking in your shocked face.

SWEETHEART?! Really, he truly was a fuck boy then huh.

You once again lost control of you mouth, “I don’t think your colony house girlfriend would be too happy about you calling me sweetheart” you spat.

He coughs out smoke unable to stop himself from laughing,“ Who?” he laughs.

You refuse to let his facade get to you, not helping him with the answer.

His confusion blends back into another stupid smirk, “Oh, Laine?” He chuckles, eyes narrowing to gauge your reaction.

Laine? You think to yourself, what a stupid name. Lame Laine. EW! no you refuse to fight some random girl over him. He didn’t belong to you.

As much as you wanted him to.

Your eyes flicked back to his and something seemed to cross his face. His eyes darkened.

He knew. He knew you wanted him.

He slowly approached.

“You still want some?”, he asked. Gesturing to the cigarette.

He read your apprehension and said something that was dizzying to you.

“I could shotgun you” he she shrugged eyes not leaving yours. Unable to speak you nodded… a little too enthusiastically and he smirked. You could’ve sworn his eyes darkened.

He tilts your head up softly but as firm as needed to align your lips to his, all that separated you was air. With bated breath loosening unwillingly out your mouth in a sigh, your were lips parted in anticipation. Something he seemed to be unable to mock his face sporting the same intense stare as if he could unfurl your lips and drive you over the edge of what you weren’t sure madness pleasure?. Slowly, softly he blew the smoke into your mouth and you felt so intensely in need of him that it didn’t feel like breathing him in, it simply felt like breathing whole for the first time. It felt as natural as anything being this close needing him there needing him anywhere on you or near you. His fingers felt nice but the searing want shared silently was a feeling like no other. It radiated beyond magnetism. Staring at each other no longer held challenge but you were looking, truly seeing each other for the first time beyond the facade beyond this bodies you didn’t need to scratch the itch of knowing the conclude something. You’d know him before.

You breathed in the smoke he blew, eyes not breaking from his. His pupils were blown and it was your time to smirk. If you didn’t know before you knew now.

He wanted you too.

You blew out the smoke as slowly as you could. His eyes fixated on your lips.

He looked entranced.

His hand still cupped your jaw, his thumb coming up to glide across your lower lip. Smoke gone, you pulled his thumb into your mouth and sucked. His eyes once again met yours. “Fuck” he breathed out.

It was your turn to tease him. You spied the cigarette. It’s sweet red cherry still burning, you decided whatever was about to happen was going to burn like that.

Fast and hot.

Fuck it you thought.

You took it from his fingers, he was still entranced.

You breathed it in slowly and pushed on your toes to meet his face. Your tits brushed his chest. Your noses skimmed. His hands dropped to grip your hips and they bunched up the material of your dress. Surprisingly slowly but surely your lips softly bumped and grazed each other and you blew out the smoke. He didn’t breathed it in, so puzzled you stayed like that eyes locked till neither of you could bear it any longer.

He snapped out of the trance.

Your lips crashed together desire encompassing you heat moving lower. He smelt like pine and sea air and sweat and smoke and oil.

He tasted salty. His lips were soft.

It was almost all too delicious.

Almost.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as his hand smoothed up your back to hold your head and pull you in further. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up easily. He grinned into you as the kisses grew hot and sloppy.

Your back hit a tree and the friction between you started to give you much needed release. He started pushing his hardening crotch into yours. He broke the kiss, “I knew you wanted me” he leered. “Shut up” you groaned and seized his lips back to yours.

His lips start to wander sucking your neck and finding the spot that made you push out a lengthened moan, legs attempting to pull him in further.

“Fuck you needed this almost as much as me huh baby” he croons as his hand slithers from your waist. It skims up your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. It reaches your tit feeling its weight even inside your bra. His hand snakes in and is surprisingly cold, you hiss. “Awe is it cold baby” he mocks as he smooths his thumb over your pebbling nipple, his eyes flick to yours. “Huh baby?”, he pinches and rolls your nipple to elicit an answer. “Fuck yes” you hiss, your hips jerking even further into his.

You pull his face back to yours with both hands, teeth clashing wantonly as you kiss him viciously. He moans breathlessly , gasping and moaning as your hand slips to press against the outline of his hard cock. It’s as big as you thought.

“Tell me what you need baby” he begs, his grip on your hip tightening. You refuse to answer, smirking. He grabs your hand from his crotch and pushes his bulge into your underwear covered crotch. You throw your head back against the trunk and your moans come out as hums through your clamped lips. “Come on baby tell me what you need”.

A vision of you knelt before him flashed into you mind. And you grew wet. Going down on someone sometimes felt submissive, degrading even. But with him the idea of teasing and controlling him whilst knelt before him. You needed it.

You pushed him away and he lowered you to your feet looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry did I do something that-”

You cut him off by sinking to your knees and open palm sliding down his front and down his clothed thighs. You applied more pressure the closer to his crotch you got.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, “Is this okay baby?” You crooned.

“Yes” he breathed out.

You took your time.

Unbuckling his belt and sliding it out, you kissed the outline of his cock in his jeans before unzipping and sliding them down. You made quick work of his boxers and there he was.

As big as you thought, bigger even. The head of his cock was burning red and seeping with precum.

Oh he was aching for you.

How many nights had he fisted his cock to images of you?

You trace a finger over the seeping head and he hisses. You smirk, “is that sensitive baby?”. You do it again and he moans long and deep. You trace a finger down the thick veins and caress his balls and he rewards you with a needy “please baby”.

You lean forward on your knees and kiss the tip. Kiss the shaft and lick your way down to his aching balls. You return you attention to the seeping head continuing to kiss is gently allowing the kisses to get sloppier. His hips jerk towards you and you indulge him. His burning tip slips into your mouth and you lower it till your nose brushes against his lower stomach. You keep your rhythm soft and slow and he melts into you. His moans must be reaching the town by now and you hoped that colony house girl heard. You started to increase your suction and go faster and he pulls you off him. You release him with a lavicious pop.

He tucks himself back into his jeans and you stand there unsure until he surges down tasting himself on you. He backs you up against a tree and drops onto a knee. Both of his hands snake up your legs lifting your dress and stroking your wet heat over your panties. He kisses your thighs and licks a thick wet stripe over your clothed clit. He tugs your pants down maintaining eye contact as he spits onto your bare gleaming pussy. He kisses you clit achingly soft and begins to lick and kiss building your already approaching orgasm. You begin to gyrate against his now gleaming face. His now hot calloused hand rubs your clit and he pulls away and just stares at you. His confidence vanquished, his face desperate to watch you come. He dives back and guides two finger into your heat and curls them perfectly. Your loud breathing transforms into moans uncaring of who might hear. He hums into your aching pussy seemingly encouraging you. White hot heat encases you everything goes numb as you come around his knuckle deep fingers, pussy spasming. He watches your face contort in pleasure and continues his ministrations carrying you through.

Your breathing stills and he rises lifting his fingers to your lips, letting them sink into your awaiting mouth. You plead to be able the touch him and he smiles and kisses you full of need. “Please touch me again baby” he moans wantonly. You needed to see him come. Your hands slid down his front and once again released him. You stroked him firmly, the head of his cock an even brighter red and was pouring pre come. He was close. Your lips lunged for his and you tugged his cock harder. His moans became louder, breathing harsher as he spurted hot and harsh against your bare stomach and pussy. Your hand was covered and his face was serene. This was way more delicious than a daydream.

———

You were both bashful as you helped each other dress. Cheeks flushing as he pulled up your panties and gently tugged your dress down, you’d stopped him from wiping his come away and his confidence sprouted back. “You want something to remember this by?” He jested. “You wish” you spat back, you both knew what he said held truth.

The bell sounded in the distance.

“Come on I’ll walk you back”, he tugged your hand putting you in front of him and nudged you towards the edge of the forest. Was it to put a barrier between you and those things? No, you wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking he cared. If he cared he’d of asked you out or something along those lines. Right?

You made it back in time. “This is me” you awkwardly shrugged. You both waited for the other to speak.

You broke the silence.

“Randall, look you don’t owe me anything I get it this was nothing. I won’t tell Laine and you can go back to persuing her”.

“Y/N, me and Laine are-“ he started

You cut him off. You couldn’t bare to hear it.

“I just needed a release from whatever weird tension we had, I get it seriously no need to explain”

He looked stunned and started to frown. But he quickly masked it with a careless gaze.

Your eyes narrowed, “thanks for walking me back I guess”

“Yeah yeah , anytime”

He turned to abruptly leave.

You wanted him to stay, your bed would bed would be so warm with him. The thought made your heart skip.

“Randall wait!”

He turned

“Get home safe”, you deflated as you were unable to ask him to stay. As if he’d want to.

His swagger returned, “Don’t worry about me too much sweetheart” he smirked.

He laughed at you rolling your eyes as he strolled away.

———

Why did him walking away hurt so much? Why did you feel like you knew him?

“Fuckkkkk”, you hissed as you slid down your door. Had you fucked him in college? No,no surely not you’d shamefully remembered every drunken fight and embarrassingly bad one night stand. Then how could you possibly know him? You didn’t know but it was almost certain he remembered and the one whiteclaw too many was the culprit as to your forgetting. How could you forget a connection like that it almost felt cosmic. God now you really sounded like a colony house hippy dippy idiot.

74 notes · View notes

useless-catalanfacts · 28 days ago

Text

Why are traditional Catalan tambourines painted with the same image?

The story of a women-only music genre

One of the traditional tambourines used in Catalan folk music is the square tambourine, and often you'll find them painted like this:

1st: modern pandero made copying the drawing of an old one, photo from Carrutxa. / 2nd: pandero of unknown date, made some time between 1601 and 1800, kept in Museu de Lleida, posted by Catàleg d'instruments de Catalunya. / 3rd: pandero made between 1700 and 1800, Museu de Lleida. / 4th: pandero from the year 1900, posted by the blog Quina la fem?.

Square tambourines used to be very common ever since the Middle Ages in many parts of Catalonia. They were very widespread in the Camp de Tarragona and some parts of Ponent areas of Catalonia throughout the 18th to early 20th centuries, but they quickly lost popularity after the year 1900. They are squares made of wood covered with goat skin and often have bells inside. Very often they were also decorated with ribbons and silk and painted with an image of the Virgin of the Rosary (Mare de Déu del Roser, in Catalan, where roser meant "rosary"📿 and "rose bush"🌹 in Medieval Catalan but for the last centuries only means "rose bush"🌹).

These tambourines used to be played by women who were members of the Confraternity of the Virgin of the Rosary (sometimes other female confraternities too, but the Rosary was by far the most popular one). A confraternity is an association of people who promote worshipping a certain saint or virgin and who help each other socially and economically if they're in hardship. It used to quite common for women to join because it was mutual aid.

When there was a holiday, party, wedding, baptism, festa major, Easter, or any time they wanted (for example, if foreign men were passing through the town), women members of the confraternity played the tambourine songs (cançons de pandero or cançons de tambor), which were improvised lyrics over a song played with the tambourine. In return, people gave them money as donations for the confraternity. It was common for young people in love to give some money to these women so that they would sing a song saying how wonderful their beloved is.

This was the opposite of what was usual in that society. Back then, it was normal and seen as something good for young men to sing on the streets about the beauty of their beloved, or go to the house of their beloved to sing them songs. Many towns in Catalonia still keep traditions where on a certain day the young men do this (and nowadays, in many cases women do it too). But centuries ago it was very unusual for women to be the ones singing about the boys like the Rosary singers did.

The Catholic Church banned the Confraternity of the Rosary from singing these songs a few times, but they never managed to make them stop because it was so popular. In the end, the tradition died because of the changes in society, when people aren't part of religious confraternities like that and parties have changed.

Folklorists travelled around Catalonia and compiled the lyrics sang by these women. Many of these songs are funny, mocking specific men for being vain or flirting with every woman they find, others are praising boys or girls for their beauty and grace, others talk about the holiday or celebration they were sang in.

Nowadays, even though these women groups doing improvised lyrics over the tambourine don't exist anymore, square tambourines are still used by bands who play Catalan folk music, and some of them play old cançons de pandero that they have learned in their hometowns.

Sources: Taula Parada. Blog de recerca i difusió del patrimoni etnològic i de memòria històrica., Cases de la festa, La teiera, Quina la fem?.

62 notes · View notes

valkyriex · 3 months ago

Text

"Always with you"

PAIRING: Jill Valentine x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Fluff and angst

WORD COUNT: 1.5K+

DESCRIPTION: After leaving Raccoon City for work, you receive shocking news from Jill Valentine after days of silence, urging you to meet her.

AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first time writing fanfiction, I hope its good

September 26th, 1998, twilight. You were driving your car through the almost empty highway, raindrops hitting the windshield in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The wipers struggled, barely keeping up with the heavy rain, each swipe leaving streaks of water that blurred your vision. They squeaked slightly, their worn-out rubber scraping against the glass, making it clear that they hadn't been replaced in a long time. "I really have to replace them," you murmured to yourself, the thought lingering in your mind.

Inside the car, the smell of stale coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of wet fabric from the umbrella tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat. The dashboard lights glowed a dull orange, casting a warm hue on your hands gripping the steering wheel. The soft hum of the engine was accompanied by the sound of music quietly playing through the radio—your favorite cassette, the one your girlfriend, Jill, made for you. Each song felt like she was there with you. Her presence somehow visible in the song's lyrics.

As you drove, your thoughts drifted back to why you were even on this lonely road. You had been forced to leave Raccoon City for a job that felt more like a necessity than a choice. It wasnt very far: an hour-long drive, and the offer to move for a work project was something you couldn't refuse. Your heart was heavy with worry for Jill. Ever since her last mission in the Arklay Mountains, she had been plagued by nightmares that haunted her every night. You felt like you were the only one who could comfort her—and it was true.

In just a few days, you both were supposed to leave Raccoon City and take a flight to Europe. Jill was determined to join her friend, Chris Redfield, and continue her search for evidence to take down Umbrella once and for all. While you knew you couldn’t help her with the mission, she needed your presence, your touch, and your reassuring words—and you needed hers just as much.

Few days after that, the radios and news were ablaze with reports of a strange pandemic. You and Jill had seen enough to know that the media often twisted the truth, which only deepened your worry for her. After everything she’d told you about the horrors of the Spencer Mansion, you feared that what was happening was far worse than a pandemic—so much worse. And you were right. Days turned into a blur as you tried to contact Jill, but each attempt was met with silence. You couldn’t even focus on your job anymore, consumed by anxiety.

Finally, at the beginning of October, she called. Raccoon City had been nuked, and she needed to tell you everything that had happened—but only if you came to her. She was staying in an old hotel not far from where you were, and without a second thought, you jumped into your car and drove there immediately. As you pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the hotel, a mix of relief and anxiety washed over you. You were finally going to see her again. The building was tall, its brick exterior a mix of worn patches and faded paint, but it still exuded a certain charm. The sign above the entrance, though a bit weathered, glowed softly in the evening light, inviting weary travelers inside. As you stepped into the lobby, the air was filled with the faint scent of old wood and cleaning supplies. The reception desk, manned by a friendly clerk, stood proudly in the center, while mismatched furniture created a cozy, if slightly dated, atmosphere. Soft music played in the background, and the walls were adorned with photographs and knick-knacks that added character to the space.

"Room 128," she told you. You made your way there and knocked, the sound of your fingers hitting the door echoing through the quiet corridor. When Jill opened it, you immediately wrapped your arms around her, and she clung to you just as tightly, seeking comfort in your embrace.

“Jill, I was so worried about you. The media was saying—” you started, but she silenced you with a kiss, soft yet desperate, as if to convey all her unspoken fears. As you pulled away, you looked into her eyes—the same ones you fell in love with the first time you gazed into them. But now, they seemed heavy with sorrow. You could feel her pain radiating from her, and it made your heart ache. You were ready to listen to her every word.

“Let’s go out to the balcony,” she suggested. As you stepped outside, a cool breeze enveloped you, ruffling Jill’s hair and filling your lungs with the crisp night air. You leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view of the forest silhouetted against the setting sun, the vibrant colors fading into shades of twilight. The beauty of the moment was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your hearts.

Jill took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she spoke. “This... thing... it’s been hunting me, and I’ve lost so many people.” She paused, her gaze falling to the ground before meeting your eyes again. Her hand reached yours. “But at least... you’re here.” Her hand felt cold in yours, and you squeezed it tightly, wanting to share your warmth with her. “Always, Jill. Always for you,” you promised, your voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I just want to end Umbrella, you know? So no one will ever have to live through that nightmare again.” She looked at you, her vulnerability shining through. You settled next to her, resting your head on her shoulder, feeling the weight of her burden. “So… you’re joining Redfield in Europe?” you asked softly, and she nodded, a mix of determination and weariness in her expression.

As she recounted everything that had happened in Raccoon City, the weight of her words hung in the air. You could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the toll that the last weeks had taken on her. After the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep hues of indigo, both of you eventually retreated inside, curling up together in the bed.

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” you whispered gently, wanting her to know she wasn’t alone in this fight. A soft smile spread across her face. “I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, before taking your hand and placing a tender kiss on it. As she drifted into sleep, you watched her calm features, finally at peace for the first time in a long while. Feeling the weight of the moment settle around you, your own eyes grew heavy, and you surrendered to sleep beside her, comforted by the connection you shared.

But a few hours later, you felt Jill stir beside you, her breathing uneven as she woke from a troubled dream. You turned to her, immediately sensing her distress. “Jill, hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” you murmured, reaching out to gently stroke her hair, grounding her in the moment.

She blinked slowly, her gaze finding yours, and for a moment, you could see the remnants of her nightmares flickering behind her eyes. “I… I’m sorry I woke you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Don’t be. You don’t have to apologize for anything. Just tell me what you need,” you said, pulling her closer, wanting to shield her from the darkness that lingered.

With a shaky breath, she started to share the fragments of her nightmare, but as the shadows of fear loomed, you gently shifted the conversation. “Remember that time we got caught in the rain on our way back from that movie? You were so mad at me for forgetting the umbrella, but we ended up laughing so hard when we arrived soaked to the bone?”

A small smile broke through Jill’s anxious expression, and she chuckled softly. “How could I forget? You said we looked like a couple of drowned rats.”

“And we definitely did.” you added, joining in her laughter. “And you insisted on making hot cocoa when we got home, but we both ended up burning our tongues because we were too eager to drink it.”

Jill’s laughter filled the room, and for that moment, it felt as if the weight of the world had lifted just a little. “I think you were the one who was too eager!” she retorted, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Okay, I’ll admit I may have gotten a bit too excited, but who can blame me? You make everything better,” you replied, squeezing her hand and leaning in to kiss her forehead.

The two of you spent the rest of the night sharing stories of silly moments from your relationship, from the time you both dressed up in ridiculous costumes for Halloween to the day you attempted to cook dinner together, resulting in a kitchen disaster. Each memory was a thread, weaving warmth into the fabric of the night and allowing you both to escape the harsh reality that awaited.

Eventually, Jill’s laughter subsided into soft breaths, and you felt her relax against you, finally finding solace in your embrace. As you both drifted back into sleep, the shadows that haunted her dreams began to fade, replaced by the light of your shared memories, bringing a sense of peace to your restless hearts.

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine #jill valentine x you #resident evil x reader #jill valentine fluff #jill valentine angst

69 notes · View notes

theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 3 months ago

Text

Imagine Jaskier confessing that you are his true muse…

Geralt and Ciri were off in the woods training. So you picked up a light bag of supplies and carried it to the rickety cart for the journey ahead.

The lute-playing bard trailed behind and had struck up a conversation about his inspirations. It was not long before he started listed various women (and men) who crossed his paths and drove him to write a line or two.

“I thought you were with the Countess?” You wondered with a small turn and a carefree laugh. “You last declared, boldly might I add, that she was 'the greatest muse to be found'.”

Jaskier nodded with a small sigh. “In hindsight I probably shouldn’t have. But she had been for my earlier works.”

You let out a laugh that sang into the sky, spinning back around and adjusting the bag in your arms.

“My, you change muses almost as often as pants.” Approaching the cart, you leaned forward and set the bag down. Dusting your hands before looking at the bard who had stopped a few paces away. “Is Geralt going to be the next?”

Jaskier scoffed. “He wishes.”

This made you laugh again. Stepping toward him, you pat his shoulder gently and made to leave but Jaskier clasped your wrist, catching you by surprise. His blue eyes were trained on yours as if opening up to your soul.

“Listen.” He said firmly. All jest washed away now. “You have been the muse to my songs from the moment we met and I cannot comprehend the magic you have woven in my lyrics - the beauty.”

“I’m hardly inspiration, Jaskier.” You told him softly.

“And yet I cannot imagine another face when I think, another smile when I write, another voice when I seek a melody.” Jaskier drew your hand to rest over his heart. “You have changed the essence of my tunes - the true ones.”

It was a folly thing to believe in love and happy endings with the perilous road ahead. And yet, you could not find yourself to pull away. Jaskier found a way to drum your heartbeat and dance to it.

If your fate was to be sealed in blood, then you would feel every remaining joy there was.

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #the witcher x reader #witcher x reader #witcher imagine #the witcher imagine

67 notes · View notes

bitterbutblue · 4 months ago

Text

firefly <3

i'll come closer to you slowly, very slowly ☆ firefly x fem!reader

~ WAAA this one was the second most popular one in the votes! unfortunately i have had to make some changes (literally the entire plot and idea) because i have recently began yearning again and its such a crazy feeling im gonna write abt it.. anyways this is a short one but i got a ROBIN FIC COMING.... YAYYY ROBIN ~

song: very, slowly - bibi ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

It's suffocating when she smiles. But it's also soft like a song on the train on your way home. You could only sit next to her as she hums her favourite song by Robin. At this point you could recite every lyric and every note even though you've never actively listened to that song yourself.

"Want one?"

You snap out of your train of thought, looking up at her. You could feel your heart leap when her eyes meet yours because who knew you could fit the entire galaxy, the sun's rise and it's setting in eyes and nothing but eyes. She holds up a small cake, tilting her head to the side like a lost puppy and you want to hold her so close she becomes part of you. She's already a part of you though, you knew that. You know that from now on no matter what happens, some part of you will always end up going back to her. Some part of you will always see the Dream's Edge and think about purple eyes and sunsets. Some part of you will see oak roll cakes and think of Robin's top song on a Monday evening.

"I got one for you."

The cake is by no means your favourite. It's rough, tastes like wood and barely sweet enough to be a cake. It's more like cardboard, but you'd never tell her that. You just take it anyways because, well, who were you to refuse her? Her smile already has you feeling so weak in the knees and you know if she asked you to do anything you'd agree immediately.

"Thanks."

You can't control the small tremble in your voice. You are just hoping the smile you shot her doesn't seem too forced.

"Hey!"

The familiar voice has your heart stuttering in your chest as it falls down the familiar chasm. The golden eyed girl runs up to you two excitedly and you see the way she straightens up, the way her eyes brighten as she shows the smile she only ever shows when she's around.

"Stelle!"

You can only watch as she gets onto her feet, walking over to Stelle to engage in a conversation that she seems to be more interested in than with any conversation she's ever held with you. It sucks. It hurts and you knew you had no chance to begin with from the moment you laid eyes on her but you couldn't fight the urge that is wanting to get closer to her. Wanting to know her and be someone to her.

You knew you'd never be anyone to her.

Who are you without her, though?

She finds herself lost in the golden girl's eyes. The golden girl who you know you could only stare at from afar, wishing you could be maybe just half of who she is so that she could finally look at you.

For once, maybe.

Just once, in the way you want her to look at you.

You hate the smile she smiles at you is nothing like the smile she smiles at Stelle. You hate how she always brightens up in ways she never brightens up around you. You hate, not her, but yourself. You knew you would get hurt getting into it, but like a drug you go back to her because you can't stay away from her warmth.

When Stelle touches her shoulder, you wonder how warmth can somehow feel so cold.

"Firefly?"

"Hm?"

She smiles at you but it's muted. You can tell it's muted because you've memorised all her smiles and movements. You know what each little wrinkle of her nose means and what each little twitch of her lips means. Now you can only watch as she falls in love with someone who you could never be.

"I need to go."

"Oh!"

She smiles.

"I'll see you later?"

Stay away, would you?

For your own good.

"I'll text you."

But you can't.

You could only walk away, fully aware of how you could now disappear and she really wouldn't mind because all she could focus on was the golden girl who you hated but also loved. You hate her because she is everything you want to be. You love her because she is everything you want to be.

She would never focus on you as much.

Fuck.

But you knew you'd always go back.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #firefly x reader #hsr firefly #hsr firefly x reader #hsr sam #stellaron hunters #stellaron hunters x reader

59 notes · View notes

wavesmp3 · 1 year ago

Text

[csc] ode to you

inspired by 'daisy jones & the six'

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader (gn) genre: band au, strangers to lovers, angst wc: 13.7k warnings: cursing, heavy alcohol usage and often in an unhealthy way, one mention of blood (a terrible case of largely irrelevant side characters, an attempt at writing song lyrics, switching pov’s without any real indication, story existing in a vacuum of time and space loosely based off of 70s usa)

synopsis → The Numbers are a band well on their way to commercial success with Seungcheol as the dreamy front man, Soonyoung on drums, Joshua on guitar, Minghao on bass, and Junhui on keys. But all that changes the second you step into the studio to record “Begin Again” with them. The song is an instant hit, launching you from a singer-songwriter nobody to the biggest new name in music and catapulting the Numbers into a larger limelight than they’ve ever been in before. So with the entire country singing your song, the pressure is on for you and the Numbers to create an entire album that lives up to their expectations. But while pressure builds, something akin to feelings for the front man builds with it.

You go to knock again on the door, heavy footsteps and heavier breaths, but just as soon as your knuckles make contact with the heavy wood, the door swings open.

Jihoon looks disappointed. “You were going to knock again, weren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, pushing him aside and going straight for the marble bar cart you know sits in the sitting room off the formal dining area.

“You know you really have to work on your patience.” He says to you from the foyer, voice already sounding a bit far away. You always forget how big acclaimed-music-producer Woozi's house is. Although, you think, staring at the array of top shelf liquor arranged neatly on the bar cart, mansion is probably a more apt word for it.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey.

Jihoon joins you in the room once you’ve already taken a seat in one of the brown leather arm chairs.

“How many glasses is that?”

You scoff. “I have a show at the Roxy after this.”

He hums, flicking the square paper in his hand.

You sit up slightly. “What is that?” Jihoon takes the paper over to the record player in the opposite corner of the room. He slips a clean black record out of the manilla slip and carefully places it into position. It doesn’t take long for the gentle hum of the record spinning around the platter to fill the room.

God, I love music. You think to yourself sitting back slightly in the armchair and allowing your eyes to shut.

“I want you to listen to this.” You hear Jihoon say, followed by the small pop of the decanter being opened and the quiet trickle and crack of liquor falling over ice. The sound of a bass overtakes the room. It’s somehow… gentle.

“Who’s it by?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer at first. You hear him sit down in the armchair next to yours while drums fill in the spaces of the songs and a guitar starts to hum along. And the sound that comes from the record player next–in all honesty, you don’t think Jihoon could have prepared you for. It’s a man’s voice, polished, in a way that you just know he’s been doing this for a while. His whole life maybe. There’s this rough, almost growly quality that amps the song up even more, and yet, simultaneously, his voice glides over the lyrics like honey spilling over the side of its jar. There’s so much depth in every note he hits. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard a voice–a sound–quite like this.

“Who is this?” You ask again once the first chorus comes to a close, opening your eyes and taking a proper look at Jihoon. He looks mildly amused.

“Have you heard of the Numbers?”

Seungcheol hurries into the studio from the car, guitar in one hand and lyrics in the other, fully expecting to get chewed out by his producer. “Jihoon, I’m so sorry. There was tra-”

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. The control room is empty. He steps back into the doorway and rereads the signage. He has the right room, so then… where is everybody?

“Seungcheol,” he hears a voice call for him from the recording stage. It’s Soonyoung, waving him inside and pointing at you. You smile at him, give him a nod of sorts. His eyes dart to Jihoon, giving him a look that says, who the fuck is that?

He walks into the recording booth hesitantly.

“Hey.” Jihoon says casually. “I don’t think you guys have met yet.”

You stand and approach him, sticking out your hand. Seungcheol just looks at it.

“The label thinks you guys would sound good on one track and want you to try recording ‘Begin Again’ together.”

He ignores your outstretched hand and looks straight at Jihoon. “Can we speak privately?”

—

Seungcheol had assumed he’d be the one getting chewed out in the studio today. Oh, how things have changed. He’s worked so hard on this song. More time and effort than he’s ever put in any of the band’s songs that came out before it. He can’t believe Jihoon would allow anyone else to try and taint it. “Begin Again” is his song. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the only one singing it.

Seungcheol’s ready to say all of this, but, “Before you say anything,” Jihoon doesn’t even let him speak, “I know how you feel about this. But the decision came from above me, okay. The Number’s last album didn’t do as well as the label hoped. They think another voice in the band could shake things up. And who knows, “Jihoon continues with a shrug that only makes Seungcheol fume more, “maybe this could be what you guys have been missing.”

Seungcheol cannot believe what he’s hearing. “We aren’t missing anything.”

“Don’t be dense.” Jihoon pans with a sideways stare. “I know you guys are good. I know you guys are gonna be big, but the rest of the world needs some convincing. Just try this, okay? This could be it.”

Seungcheol just shakes his head.

“I scouted them out myself. They’re a good singer and even better writer-”

“Writer?” Seungcheol nearly screams, arms flying to point at you through the control room window where the two boys are talking. “You want them to write on the song too?”

“They have a couple of…” Jihoon sighs, choosing his next word with extra precaution, “revisions.”

“Fuck that, Jihoon. I wrote a great song. It–”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You wrote a good song.” Jihoon refutes, matter-of-factly. “You wrote a good song, and they,” he points at you, “they made it a great one.”

Seungcheol is speechless.

“Here.” Jihoon pushes a piece of torn notebook paper into his hands.

If Seungcheol wasn’t so aware of the line Jihoon was drawing, he would’ve pushed harder, but at the end of the day, Jihoon is his boss and his lifeline in this business. If Jihoon says so, really says so, then there’s not much Seungcheol can do to fight it. Seungcheol is stubborn, but he’s not a fool looking to waste his own breath. He looks back into the recording stage. The band looks happy chatting to each other. And you, well, you’re staring at him.

A red light flashes on the sound board beneath him. “Talk over the changes.” Jihoon says to the band and you through the intercom. “We record in ten minutes.”

—

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say to Seungcheol sitting on the stool in front of the second mic. Seungcheol’s never even seen a studio setup with two mics before. He swallows a scoff. “Jihoon showed me the song the other day, and your voice it—“

“What does this line mean?” Seungcheol cuts in, taking his seat on the stool next to yours. “I changed my heart. I morphed my mind. You don’t have the right to tell me I didn’t try.”

Your face drops immediately. “Are you serious?”

Seungcheol raises a brow–a challenge.

You let out a breath of pure disbelief, focusing your gaze just above his head, and hands starting to make motions in the air. “It’s about changing yourself to be with someone. It’s about them never acknowledging that.”

“That’s not what this song is about.”

You give him a pointed look. “What do you think the song is about?”

It’s his turn for the disbelief. “What do I think the song I wrote is about?” You don’t falter, not even for a second. Seungcheol grasps at the words, mouth agape. “It’s about redemption.”

“That’s too easy.”

“How is that too easy?”

“Look,” you huff, mouth opening and closing like you can’t decide what it is you want to say. You end up reaching your arm out, palm open like you want a fucking hi-five or something. In the back of his mind, Seungcheol wonders if you’re still waiting for the handshake he never gave. “Give me your original lyrics.”

He does, you snatch the paper keeping your eyes on him for a second too long before finding whatever it was that you were looking for. “Right here,” you say, finger pointing at the tattered paper and eyes darting back and forth between him and his lyrics. Your face lights up. You look like you're holding back a smile. You look… excited. “Here, in the bridge you wrote: take me home, welcome me on those familiar roads, embrace me in your arms, oh please, tell me I still belong.”

“What about it?” Seungcheol asks, almost forgetting that he’s upset at Jihoon for this whole arrangement, nearly forgetting that he’s supposed to not be accepting any of your revisions because for the first time in so long, he’s able to really talk to someone about his lyrics.

You look up at him fully, and almost sadly, you say, “You really don’t get it, do you?” Seungcheol looks down at the lyrics you gave him, scanning them again. Funnily enough, that line is the only one of his you’ve kept.

“The song’s not about redemption,” you tell him. “It’s about guilt.”

—

Seungcheol, you, and the band end up recording your version of the song. It’s a good song. It’s still his melody, his hook, and his bridge, but almost none of the lyrics are his. Just like that, “Begin Again” becomes as much your song as it is his. If he wasn’t so angry at Jihoon, maybe he would’ve had the mind to notice how good you sound singing it.

Choi Seungcheol is an asshole.

That you learned in the recording studio with him and haven’t been able to get out of your head since. Unfortunately, he’s got one hell of a voice and gift for creating a good melody. And him and Jihoon together in the studio, god, they’re magic. You went out and purchased The Number’s previous record after you recorded “Begin Again”. You haven’t stopped listening to it since.

It’s one day when you’re working a shift at the diner that you start humming the song playing over the speaker while grabbing an order from the kitchen. You don’t even think twice about it. That is until you make it right in front of the table whose orders you’re holding and start to hear your own voice.

You nearly drop the four plates of burgers.

You rush over to the jukebox, not believing your ears, not believing that your voice, your words, your song is playing for the entire diner to hear.

And there, right at the bottom it reads: “Begin Again” by the Numbers ft. you

“Holy shit.”

The desert wasn’t too far from home, but it could not have been more different. There was so much nothing for as far as your eyes could see. There was dust everywhere, all over the place, sifting up through the air and in your lungs. How are you supposed to sing like this?

You hear the bands’ voices come up from behind you.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, coming up next to you and resting an arm on the same wood railing as you. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” You answer truthfully. You could barely believe it when you got the call from Jihoon saying that they wanted you to play the festival along with the Numbers. Although, considering that your song is playing on every radio station, it probably shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was.

The crowd roars as the previous artist says his goodbye.

“Have you ever played for a crowd like this?”

“Nope.”

He nods slowly. “It’s a lot. The first time especially, for sure. But just go with it, and uh,” he smiles, towards the ground, “it’s a lot of fun once you get past the nerves of it all.”

You look at him, battling against the grimace forming on your face. “Is this pep talk for me or for you? Cause I’m fine.”

His smile disappears when he sees your face. You must’ve lost the battle.

He inhales sharply. “‘Begin Again’ is last. Come out after I introduce you.”

You nod, and he joins the rest of his band.

The crowd cheers when they get on stage. The first song starts with a familiar guitar riff and the pound of the drums, followed by the crowd going ballistic. You’ve been playing on stage for a while now, but only ever in small clubs with small crowds. You’ve never seen a crowd like this, and it makes you ecstatic.

You hear Seungcheol sing the final words of the song and Junhui play the final chords. And you don’t know if its the crowd or the shot of vodka you took during the bridge or the fucking look Seungcheol gives you, but something, something, makes you forget what Seungcheol said about waiting and walk right onto that stage.

Joshua and Minghao look confused. Seungcheol looks vaguely pissed. Junhui and Soonyoung barely notice. But you don’t register any of that. All you can think as you walk onto that stage, grin flashing and arms up in the air is: this crowd was fucking waiting for me.

You step up to your mic and wait until the crowd quiets down. You introduce “Begin Again” as a song you wrote. The crowd erupts. You look over at Seungcheol, smiling, no–grinning, loving how annoyed he looks. Minghao doesn’t miss a beat, starting the song immediately. Your body moves on its own, dancing to the song, belting out each note, and loving every second of it. It’s sometime during the second verse, the one Seungcheol sings alone, that you notice how entranced he is. His eyes are half closed, and his fingers fly across his guitar like he’s not even thinking about it. He smiles at the crowd. You think you hear someone faint. He looks your way then, right before the pre-chorus, smiling still as if he wasn’t just glaring at you. It hits you almost instantly: nothing else matters to him right now. He’s in it, like really in it, and the only thing he seems to care about is putting on a good show. He’s loving this as much as you are, and maybe that’s enough to prove that you and Choi Seungcheol are more alike than either of you think.

You leave your mic stand and start dancing towards him. His entire body turns towards you, waiting for you, his eyes following. You meet right in front of his mic just as the chorus begins. And you’re left with no choice but to stand next to him, singing into the same mic with your faces so close you can feel every ragged breath he takes, see the sweat rolling off his hair, and hear the blood pumping through his veins. Take me home. You both sing with your entire chest. Welcome me on those familiar roads. You see him turn his head to face you. You mirror the motion, and sing the next line looking right into his eyes. Embrace me in your arms. Have his eyes always been this big? Oh please, tell me I still belong. And of course it’s this line you’re singing to each other like this. Of course it’s the one line in the entire song that you didn’t actually write and the one line he did.

The chorus ends, and you slowly back away from his mic and move back towards yours. He rips away on his guitar, fingers still flying like it’s the easiest thing, all while never taking his eyes off you. Staring at you like he found something. Staring at you like it’s only you and him on that stage.

You don’t even remember the song ending.

Music flows through Northside Tavern. A jazz band is playing today, and the piano player keeps making eyes at you.

“I heard the show over the weekend went well.” Jihoon says into your ear. You just nod. “And that the label really liked what you did with the song.”

You laugh. “Not just the label. The whole country liked it.” You give one last look to the pianist, before turning to Jihoon fully. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I have a number one single.”

You head over to the bar and ask for an old-fashioned.

“Not just you.” Jihoon yells behind you to be heard over the cheers after the band’s last song.

You pivot. “Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t just you.” Jihoon flags down the bartender, orders a scotch, neat. “It was the Numbers too.”

The bartender slides over three drinks.

You lean in over the counter. “We only ordered two.”

Wordlessly, the bartender points to the other side of the bar. The piano player holds up their drink. Jihoon grabs his drink, and you grab the remaining two. You lift them both up towards the pianist who gives you a rather charming smile, and then take a simultaneous sip from the straws of both drinks. You taste your old-fashioned and what seems to be a margarita.

You and Jihoon make your way over to a booth.

“What I wanted to say,” Jihoon continues, “is that the label likes you with the band, and they want you to make an album with them.”

“An album?” You suck in your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush from all the alcohol. An album is exactly what you’ve been pushing and working so damn hard for. So then why does this feel bittersweet?

“I think this is going to be a good thing.” Jihoon tells you sincerely, eyes softening. “You and Seungcheol…” he hesitates for a moment. You hate when he chooses his words like this, picking out the bad ones and testing out all the others. But perhaps you only hate it so much because you lack the ability to do it yourself. “You guys work.”

You take another long double sip of your drinks, squinting at Jihoon skeptically. “What did Seungcheol say?”

Jihoon’s mouth parts. There. There it fucking is. Running your tongue over your top set of teeth, you say, “you haven’t asked him yet, have you?”

“No, we haven’t asked him yet–”

“I can’t believe this.”

“–but the rest of the band is already on board, and we all thought it’d be smarter if you agreed before we asked him.”

You tilt your head slightly. You thought Jihoon knew you better than this. “I’m not saying anything until he does.”

“Be honest with yourself here,” Jihoon says seriously, pushing his drink to the side and leaning forward, “it’s no secret that you and Seungcheol don’t get along. And I get it; I really do. But I know you see it.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “See what?”

“Most people in this business spend their entire lives looking for what he and you found during the ‘Begin Again’ sessions and again on the stage at the festival. And most people fail. Don’t throw that away over whatever bullshit he gave you when you first met. Don’t throw away the chance you’ve been waiting for because of that. You guys belong together. Focus on that.”

You don’t say anything after Jihoon finishes his little speech. Instead you reach for your drinks and finish them both in one long, prolonged sip. You ignore his annoyed ‘tsk’.

Putting the empty glasses down and to the side, you nod up at him, pursing your lips. “Are you done?”

He takes a long, final swig of his drink. “Yes.”

“Ask Seungcheol first.” You pull out your wallet and drop a couple bills on the table. “Then, you can call me.”

Today is already off to a bad start.

Seungcheol had come into the studio ready to record and knock out at least 2 or 3 songs off the album today, but then Minghao wanted to talk about the album’s direction and Soonyoung wanted to request everyone to add as many drum parts as possible.

And it’s as he’s listening to Junhui and Soonyoung argue about the addition of piano solos, that you walk into the studio.

Jihoon welcomes you with a hug. Hansol, the sound engineer, offers to make you tea. Meanwhile, Seungcheol can’t understand why you deserve any kindness at this moment. Your session started an hour ago.

“You’re late.” Seungcheol says, bringing the rest of the band to notice your arrival.

You look at him with a smile, gesturing to the two boys who were just arguing. “Doesn’t really look like I missed anything.”

“We were talking about the album’s direction.” Minghao says from behind Seungcheol.

You nod, putting down your stuff and taking a seat. “Okay, shoot.”

Seungcheol puts his hands up. “Well since we’re talking about it. I’ve been working on a couple songs, and,” he hesitates, pulling out a couple sheets of paper that Jihoon helped him print and handing them out, “I think I might have something good that we can build the rest of the album off of.”

Everyone takes a moment to read. Seungcheol watches the room carefully. Joshua clears his throat. Junhui plays a loose note.

Your voice is the first that comes out of the silence. “Are you serious?”

He whips his head around. “What?”

“‘Will you still love me when I’m old? Will you still love me when I’m proud.’” You read aloud, before shoving the paper back towards him, that mocking smile still plastered on your face. “I’m not singing that.”

He scoffs, tongue swiping at his lips. “Why not? They’re good songs.”

You shrug. “They’re cheesy.”

“You haven't even read the whole thing.”

“I’ve read enough.”

“Are–are you… is this–I mean, like, you…” Seungcheol only knows one thing for sure right now: you might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. “Jihoon!”

“Okay, you know what,” Jihoon’s voice comes through the intercom. You both turn towards it. “How about you two go home and figure out some way to work together instead of wasting my studio time. Write one song, just one, together, and the rest of us can go from there tomorrow.”

He slips a curse between a breath.

“Okay?”

You and Seungcheol look back at each other. It’s you who speaks first this time. “That’s fine with me.”

—

It’s a nice day out today. The sun shines through big clouds. There’s a nice breeze, and the roadways are empty. You’re sitting in the passenger seat humming something he can’t hear over the wind while Seungcheol drives. In all honesty, he doesn’t even know where he’s heading, but it might be the first time he's felt some semblance of peace with you around.

The announcer on the radio station introduces the next song. Seungcheol turns it up and sings alongside Kim Mingyu’s voice. You stop humming.

“You like this song?” You ask.

He quickly glances at you. “Yeah, who doesn’t.” The song was insanely popular a year or two ago. If you didn’t like it at first, you heard it enough on the radio and in every store until you did. Although, it doesn’t actually take anyone very many listens to fall in love with it. Unfortunately, the rest of Kim Mingyu’s songs never quite lived up to this one.

“I wrote this song.” You say to him, as if it’s the most simple thing.

“Oh, really?” Seungcheol replies with a chuckle. “You worked with Kim Mingyu?”

“Well, not all of it, but the melody and most of the lyrics, yes.” You tell him seriously, like you haven’t even registered that he thought you were joking. “I mean, worked is a strong word, but we did date for a bit.”

Seungcheol stops at a red light and spends it staring you in disbelief.

“Come on,” you say after a moment, “you really think Kim Mingyu wrote this song?”

Seungcheol listens to it again: They could never get it out of their heads. Like a scene on repeat. Like a mountain falling. Something unforgettable, but forgotten still. Something like you. Someone like me.

And instantly, it clicks–of course you wrote this song. Of course it’s the case that Kim Mingyu’s best song and one of Seungcheol’s favorites was written by none other than you.

He looks over at you while at another light. Your head leans back against the car seat, and your arm hangs over the edge of the open window. You don’t look like you’re enjoying listening to the song even if you are the one that wrote it. In fact, you look mildly annoyed, nose scrunched while inspecting your nail beds, teeth grinding.

Seungcheol changes the station thinking: why’d you let him take it?

Before he can really think about it any further, you sit up in your seat and point at the next light.

“Turn right up there. I know a place.”

—

When you had said that you knew a place, Seungcheol imagined that it’d be a coffee shop or an empty bar or anything other than the middle of the woods sitting on the rocks along a stream.

Although, he must give you credit: the setting you’ve taken him to is beautiful. There are birds humming and life strumming all around you. The water is a blistering blue that glistens and shines in the sunlight streaming through the trees like a million coins falling from the sky. The water has a small current running through it, and it beats against the rocks lightly, like the lightest, most gentle drum beat. The breeze is nice and cool on Seungcheol’s skin, sifting through his hair and past his limbs. And maybe the best part is how all around him, on every single side, he’s surrounded by green.

It would have been perfect, if not for the fact that you and him have been here for two hours and still have absolutely nothing.

“Okay,” you relent, after he turns down another one of your ideas for a song, “how about this melody?”

You start humming one of the worst melodies Seungcheol’s ever heard in his life.

“Absolutely not.”

You grunt frustrated, arms falling through the air. Your head follows suit, settling in your hands, face buried from his view.

“Why’d you even say yes to this?” You snap, looking up at him after a moment, brows furrowed and hands gesturing vaguely in the air. “If you have no intention of taking any idea I give you seriously, why did you say yes to this?”

“I didn’t.” Seungcheol reminds you. “Neither of us did. Jihoon kicked us out of the studio.”

“I don’t mean that.” You flare. “I mean letting me in to do this album with the Numbers. Why’d you agree to it?”

There’s a change in the wind. A sudden quietness that must be attributed to some insect dying. Seungcheol hadn’t expected you to ask this. He hadn’t even expected you to think it.

“It wasn’t…” he starts, looking for the words in the space between you and him. He looks up at you, hoping to find them there. Instead he finds hope in them.

Seungcheol has been in this exact spot before–sitting in front of someone that wants to believe in him and is asking him to give them a reason. He’s seen this before, and he has no interest in repeating his past mistakes. He sees no need to add you to the list of people he’s disappointed. With a short laugh, he says, “You know what, let’s just get back to writing.”

“Fuck that.” You respond immediately, grabbing at his guitar.

“What are you–”

“No. Fuck that.” You repeat, successfully pushing his guitar off his lap. “If this is going to work, you have to at least pretend like you trust me. Song writing isn’t just strumming on your guitar all day and hoping for the best. It’s vulnerability, and it’s pouring your heart and soul and life into something and praying that someone out there feels the same way. That’s what ‘Begin Again’ was. And every single person who listened and liked that song and every single person who sang with us at the festival is saying that they feel the same way. So, what are you so afraid of? Why do you feel like you can’t trust me?”

Seungcheol gulps. “Which question should I answer first?”

You inhale slowly. “The latter.”

Seungcheol just shakes his head. “I don’t know you.”

“Ask me then.” You say desperately, like it should have been obvious to him, “whatever it is that you want to know just ask it.”

Seungcheol nods. In truth, there’s a million questions he wants to ask you about everything, but at this moment, all those questions sink to the bottom of his mind and only one rises to the top and travels to the tip of his tongue. “Why’d you let Kim Mingyu take credit for that song?”

You lean back slightly at his questions. Looking away from him and towards the murky waters before answering. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.” You tell him, laughing lightly. “I used to let guys like you walk all over me.”

His heart jumps into his throat. He’s barely able to choke out a, “guys like me?”

You nod, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Guys who don’t believe that I have what it takes.”

“I never said that.”

“But you showed me.”

“When?”

You look at him then, squinting. He hopes what you see is genuineness. He asked the question sincerely. “When you were so quick and ready to dismiss my changes to the lyrics during the ‘Begin Again’ takes. When you let me join your band on this album, and then expected me to sing an entire record full of songs that mean nothing to me. I’m a songwriter, Seungcheol. It’s the one thing about me that no one can take.”

Something between intrigue and malice slips in behind his tongue. “So what can people take?”

You shake your head, smiling ever so slightly. “My turn. What are you so afraid of?”

Seungcheol inhales sharply. “Well, I’m afraid of dying and of heights and–”

“Stop that.” You cut in, like you really mean it. “Why are you so afraid to say what you really think?”

He sucks in his bottom lip, shrugging. “‘Begin Again’ was your song more than it was mine. What if people don’t like what I have to say? What if they can’t relate and just think I’m fucked up and crazy?”

Your eyes soften, and your smile lines deepen. It takes a moment for him to register that you're smiling, really smiling, at him. He’s never known a smile could feel so inviting.

“But what if they do?”

Seungcheol takes a moment to think about what you’ve said. And in that moment, whatever insect had died gets resurrected, returning to nature’s hum, filling his ears. Seungcheol looks all around him. The hum of life, the beat of water, the tune of leaves falling. He’s surrounded not just by nature and greenery, but also by music. And it’s erupting from every corner of these woods.

His eyes finally land on you.

“I think I found our melody.”

When you come into the studio the next day, the song is done. You went to sleep humming it still and running through the lyrics over and over again in your head.

“Let us sing it for you first,” Seungcheol suggests to the rest of the band with Jihoon listening in from the control room. “And whenever you feel like you got it, just hop in with what you think works, and we can refine and shape it from there.”

You watch the rest of the band as Seungcheol explains it. Minghao looks shocked, but excited. Soonyoung looks proud. And you can’t really read what the other two are thinking.

“Jihoon, are we good?” Seungcheol asks, turning around to the window into the control room.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Jihoon replies, voice filtering in through the intercom. You nod. Seungcheol nods. The rest of the band nods. Jihoon presses a couple buttons and says, “This is ‘Can You See Me’.”

Seungcheol starts playing the chords he found yesterday. You’re not sure why or how but it reminds you of those woods. His voice starts singing the first line of the song. You close your eyes and take it in. You join him for the chorus, singing alongside his voice feeling the words flow. It’s Junhui that joins you two first, playing a couple loose notes, testing things out. By the end of the chorus, he’s found it, playing a little more confidently and adding a whole new level of depth to the song. A depth that makes you feel like you’ve only ever known two colors your whole life and in a matter of seconds Junhui added in a third. Joshua joins in next, as your voice takes over for the second verse, playing off what Seungcheol was playing but making it his own. Seungcheol goes over to where Soonyoung’s sitting and says something to him in his ear. Soonyoung nods. Seungcheol goes over to Minghao, but Minghao shakes his head, already starting to play something. Seungcheol heads back to his mic right before the second chorus starts. You turn and sing the last line of the pre-chorus to him

And I know that you never trusted me.

He joins you for the chorus, singing back.

Can you see me standing from there? And can you see the blood on my hands? If I give you all of the parts to my heart, Will you care that I’ve been scarred and stitched up?

Soonyoung starts playing then, the drums filling in the last thing the song needed. You listen to the rest of the band play and marvel at how insanely talented they all are to pick up and play something that actually works after only a minute of hearing it. The song needs polishing, yes, but it’s got a good sound and it’s heading in the right direction.

You don’t take your eyes off Seungcheol, and he doesn’t take his eyes off you. And for the remainder of the song, you sing to each other.

The song ends. The last one playing is Junhui. And for a couple seconds, no one says anything.

It’s Jihoon’s voice that comes out of the silence first. “I’m a fucking genius.”

You smile at Seungcheol. He smiles back.

After recording and polishing ‘Can You See Me’, you and Seungcheol fall into a song-making rhythm of sorts.

(We don’t always have it perfect.)

“I feel like this lyric in ‘Puzzle Pieces’ doesn’t fit.” You say to Seungcheol, before muttering the lyric outloud. “It’s too shy. I don’t know. I just think it’s missing the mark a little bit, don’t you think?”

Seungcheol groans tiredly. “God, I can’t think about this anymore. Can we take a break? Go get some food or something?”

“Yes, but before we do, do you think ‘I see us standing in the distance’ or ‘I see you standing in the distance’ works better here?”

Seungcheol just stands ignoring your question and muttering ‘no’ repeatedly.

You follow, running after him and begging him to listen.

(Boy, do we fight.)

“I think there should be more drums in the hook.” Seungcheol announces after the third run through.

“Why?”

His eyes widen, sarcastically. “Because there should be.”

“Don’t do that.” You scoff, used to his antics. “Answer the question: why?”

He sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “It’s missing something. The song still feels empty. I mean, the lyrics allude to a love that’s blooming and growing between two individuals, but nothing behind the lyrics build up with it. There’s almost a disconnect between the words and the music.”

“I disagree.”

He scoffs. “All that for–”

“I think it works just fine without the drums, and if you add the drums it’ll become more suspenseful. The song is supposed to feel like falling.”

He shakes his head. “It’s supposed to feel like butterflies.”

“It’s supposed to feel like peace.”

(Sometimes you win.)

“Let’s vote.” Seungcheol suggests. “If you’re for the drums, raise your hand.”

Only Soonyoung (the drummer), does.

(Sometimes you lose.)

Jihoon presses the red button on the sound board, announcing to the recording stage, “Take 3 of Aurora. Seungcheol, try softening your voice a little for this one.”

“Jihoon, can we just try one take with me in it?” You ask him. “I think even if I were just singing a harmony or in the background of the bridge, it would add so much.”

“No.” Jihoon says, scribbling something down in his notebook. “I’m with Seungcheol on this one.”

“Jihoon, you haven’t even heard my–”

“This song doesn’t need your voice.”

(But sometimes, we get it just right and fit like the last two puzzle pieces.)

“No,” you say, shaking your head as Joshua and Minghao finish off the last chords of the song, “It needs to sound murkier.”

Joshua, Junhui, Soonyoung, and Minghao just stare at you blankly.

“Less cymbals, Soonyoung.” Seungcheol says over the speaker from the control room. “And Minghao, ride out the low tones more.”

You turn and see him. He catches your eyes, smiling slightly, reassuring you. Like he gets you.

From behind you, you hear Junhui lightheartedly mutter, “since when do they have their own language?”

Joshua and Soonyoung laugh, but you barely notice because you see him. You see the way his brows furrow when he’s thinking. You see the way he sticks out his tongue when he’s focused. You see all of it.

And for a moment, he sees you. All of you. And he doesn’t turn away from it.

Today’s songwriting session quickly turned into a field trip from the studio to grab food which then turned into you leading Seungcheol’s car to the beach. You and Seungcheol sit on a stone ledge, right where the sand begins, 20 paces away from the ocean. Between you sits leftover fries and your untouched song notebook. You watch the sun dip into the sea and listen to the waves crash over and over again. The wind pushes furiously, tossing his hair to the side and pushes his head away from it. It just so happens that away from the wind means towards you.

“So,” you begin, popping a fry in your mouth and dusting the salt off your hands, “when are you going to answer my question of why you let me in the band?”

Seungcheol figured this question was coming. He’s been avoiding answering it. “You really want to know?”

You look at him sincerely. “Yes.”

Seungcheol looks out to the water. “After our first album, Jihoon prepared a tour for us. It was this tiny tour, not even big enough for a tour manager. We played in the smallest venues with okay-sized crowds. I mean, it was barely a tour, really more of a way to get our name out there. And after the northern leg of it, I…” Seungcheol closes his eyes and sees moments from that tour flash behind his lids: strobe lights, bodies in bed, empty glasses, and negative pockets. Sometimes memories can feel like nightmares. “I was just in a really, really, bad place. By the time we were halfway down the east coast, I was barely even able to play. Jihoon saved me then. He saved my fucking life. But he had to cancel the rest of the tour in that process. The rest of the band, man, they couldn’t even stand the sight of my face. Minghao especially. It was Jihoon who ended up being the one to convince them to let me back in. I owe Jihoon my entire livelihood and my life. So when he asked what I thought about you joining the band for this album and when I saw how badly he wanted it to happen, I owed it to him to say yes.”

It’s been so long since he’s recounted that story, even to himself. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. That knowledge surprises him.

“Where are you now?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his head.

He turns to you. “What?”

“If you were in a bad place then, where are you now?”

The wind quiets for a moment; he feels a warmth overtake him in its absence. “Someplace better.”

He looks down, not even noticing the smile growing on his face, and catches sight of your notebook. He points at it, asking, “may I?”

You look down at it as well, grabbing another fry. “Sure.”

He flips through the pages of your notebook. The first half isn’t even songs. It’s snippets, words, singular sentences taking up an entire page. It’s only halfway through the book that it actually turns into something that could be called songwriting. He asks you about it.

“Ah, that’s when I met Jihoon.” You tell him, smiling fondly. Seungcheol puts the notebook down and waits for you to explain. “Before him, I had songs, but they weren’t real songs, you know? They were just some combination of all the snippets and sentences I had written down. But then Jihoon heard me play at the Eastern, and said that I had a good voice. He asked if he could give me his card so that we could talk more, and I said that I wasn’t interested in people who only saw me for my voice and walked away.”

“You’re insane.” Seungcheol mutters, baffled. He remembers the chance encounter he had with Jihoon right after he and the band moved down here to make a name for themselves. He remembers how hard he begged for the same chance Jihoon offered to you so simply. “So, how’d you end up working with him then?”

“He found me again at the diner I used to work at after that. I told him I still wasn’t interested, and he asked if I had written the song I played that night at the Eastern. I said yes, and he said that he was only interested in my voice because my songs weren’t there yet.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “So he’s always been an asshole then?”

“Oh yeah.” You nod, mirroring the sound. “He was an asshole about it, but he was right. And it was the first time that someone believed in me enough to think that I could be better. That is what made me want to try and write a song that would make him see that I’m as good of a songwriter as I am a singer. I spent a lot of time working and got out one good song. I sang it all across the strip. He finally saw me play again at Ben’s Garage. I let him sign me after that.”

“What was that song about?”

Your lips do this half frown thing that makes Seungcheol want to peer inside your brain and figure out exactly where it came from. “It was about what all songs are about.”

“Which is?”

You look at him like it’s obvious. “Love.”

It feels like a shot of sunlight through his veins.

Seungcheol drives you back home after the beach. You had gotten nothing done in terms of the album, but you felt happy, and you felt free. You watch him from the corner of your eye. You’ve only known each other for some months now, but it feels like so much longer. You’ve told him more about yourself and your past than anyone else you’ve met in your adult life. You’ve told him your deepest worries and darkest secrets, and he never turned away from you, not once. Instead he took your insecurities and turned them into beautiful melodies. He turned all your doubts into celebrations of hope. And he did it for you.

Suddenly, it no longer feels like you only met him when you recorded ‘Begin Again’ together. Suddenly, it feels like you’ve known him since you were a teenager and like you’ve been in love with him ever since. Your palms start to sweat. Your heart sinks past your lungs. Is it all those goddamn fries or him that’s making your stomach turn?

He turns onto your street. This is it, you think to yourself. This is everything I’ve been waiting for.

He walks you to your door, and you stand facing each other on your porch.

“This was nice.” You tell him, taking another step towards him.

“It was.” He mumbles, a lazy smile on his face.

You take another step towards him. He doesn’t move back. His mouth parts. You watch his lips, trace them with your gaze. You think about what it would feel like to kiss them.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” The words come flying out of your mouth involuntarily. You barely register that you’ve said them. They didn’t come from your mind but from a tiny spot deep in your gut where the urge to take another step towards him lies. You give into that urge without thinking twice about it. You’re closer to him than you’ve been in months. The last time you were this close being that moment on stage during the ‘Begin Again’ performance. You’re surprised you remember that. His breaths then were ragged, uneven. His breaths now are barely there, like he isn’t even breathing. You can smell the mint he popped in his mouth when you left from the beach. You can smell whatever perfume he must’ve sprayed on his neck this morning.

And you’re so wholly aware of the fact that his eyes are looking at your lips.

He turns away from you and glances at your door, saying, “I should go.”

You feel something in your chest sink and sink and sink.

“I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.” He continues. “We still gotta help Junhui figure out his part for ‘Puzzle Pieces’.”

And with that he’s off, and you’re left standing on the porch alone wondering how someone can look at you like that and then just leave. You look down by your feet and see your heart sitting there, next to your shoes. You leave it there and head it inside.

The next day, Jihoon cancels your studio time without explanation and reschedules you and the band for the following day.

When that day finally does come, Seungcheol doesn’t show up on time to help you and Junhui figure out the right notes to play for the song you wrote together like he said. Instead, he stumbles into the studio late with a song in his hand wearing the same clothes he wore with you at the beach. And that alone, feels like a betrayal of some sort.

“What’s it about?” Joshua asks.

He looks around the room, excited. “It’s about my new partner.”

You feel the urge to vomit all over the recording stage.

—

Jeonghan, it turns out, is Seungcheol’s partner’s name. Seungcheol had brought him into the studio a week after they started dating, and he’s been coming routinely ever since. As much as you hate it and as much as it makes your heart bend and break, Seungcheol looks really, genuinely happy with him. You wonder if he ever looked like that with you.

You really wish you hated Jeonghan, but you don’t. He’s actually quite nice and gets along with the whole band so easily. He even makes friends with Jihoon. You thought he might be a distraction to Seungcheol while writing and recording, but Seungcheol is more focused and productive and creative than ever. The song he wrote right after meeting him is good, like stupidly good. There isn’t a single word in it that needs changing.

With your help, Seungcheol writes another song about him, called ‘Light of My Life.’ It’s while writing that song that you find out that Jeonghan was never a stranger, and that day after the beach was not their first meeting. It’s Soonyoung who tells you how Jeonghan is from their hometown and how Seungcheol and Jeonghan used to date.

The day that you record ‘Light of My Life’ Jeonghan is also in the studio, sitting in the control room and laughing at something with Hansol.

You light up my life even when it’s dark. You both sing together. It’s an acoustic song; only Joshua stands behind you guys strumming the chords on his guitar. The rest of the band didn’t even come in today. You color my world even when I’m feeling blue. You glance over at Seungcheol. He isn’t looking your way. He’s looking at Jeonghan through the control room window. When I’m with you, I never feel alone. You think about the times when he used to look at you while recording. When you hold me, baby, I feel at home. Jeonghan looks back at Seungcheol. It hits you how beautiful he is, with his dyed silver hair and slender face. You don’t blame Seungcheol for writing such a beautiful song about him. You don’t blame yourself for helping him. I can’t believe this has happened to me. Seungcheol wrote this song for Jeonghan, but he wasn’t the only writer on this song. Right before the next line, Seungcheol finally finally turns and looks at you. I feel alive because of you.

Seungcheol turns back to the control room, and for the rest of the song, you wonder that if Seungcheol wrote this song for Jeonghan, who the hell did you write this song for?

—

A tune comes to you while you drive home that night. You scribble down a couple lyrics in your notebook as soon as you walk through your door.

Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him.

Joshua throws a party that weekend. A housewarming for the house he bought with the ‘Begin Again’ checks. Stepping in through the foyer, you question whether you should be buying a house too. You forget that thought by the time you reach the drinks table.

After your hellos to the rest of the band and all the small talk with people Joshua wanted to introduce you to, you end up standing alone in his backyard, sloshing around the dark liquid in your cup. Truthfully, you’ve barely left your apartment all week. You hadn’t been in the mood for a party. But it’s nice out here. The air is fresh and crisp. The lights, which Soonyoung and Minghao enthusiastically and drunkenly told you they helped put up, are warm but not too bright. You imagine you’ll stay out here for the rest of the party.

“Hi,” you hear a voice say from behind you. You turn around only to find Jeonghan. You hope your face doesn’t betray you when you greet him back. “What are you doing out here?”

You gulp down a bitter sip of your drink. “Just wanted some quiet.”

“Same. Junhui started doing karaoke again.”

“Oof.” You groan sympathetically. “Already?”

He just nods with a laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all of them.”

You like Jeonghan. You really do. It’s just taken you until now to realize that you don’t really know him apart from small talk in the studio and the two songs Seungcheol wrote about him. “When did you move down here from your guys’ hometown?”

“Oh.” His chin juts out a bit. “I moved down with the band actually.”

You don’t hide the surprise on your face.

“I take it no one told you that then.” Jeonghan chuckles darkly. You shake your head. “Uh, well, yeah,” he continues, shoving his free hand into his pocket, “Seungcheol and I started dating right when the band formed. I used to do the photography for them. And when they proposed moving out here, I thought I ought to come with. And I did.” He gulps his drink. “It was good for a while. Really fun in the beginning. But then I got my job taking pictures for the paper, and they were doing the album. And well,” he looks at you like you already know what he’s about to say. You don’t. “It already wasn’t really working anymore by the time the album was finished. And then they went on tour…”

He leaves that part blank. But based on what you heard from Seungcheol about that first tour, you can piece together what might’ve happened. You question whether Jeonghan left that empty to spare Seungcheol or to spare himself. Then you question how he knew you knew about it.

“Oh.” Is all you say. You don’t ask about when they encountered each other again. You don’t want to hear it.

“You know,” Jeonghan begins again, “I actually used to watch you play at the Tabernacle.”

You groan immediately. You only ever played at the Tabernacle when you first started. You cringe thinking about what you might’ve sang on stage in front of him. “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed to even think about those days.”

“No! Don’t be!” He reassures, kindly. “You were really good. I especially liked that one song that went like… The days were wide open, as far as the eye could see.”

Your heart nearly soars straight out of your body. You had forgotten about this song. You used to love it dearly. You join Seungcheol’s boyfriend for the second line.

The world was mine to take, but I’ve never been good at accepting things.

“You and the band together,” Jeonghan says a moment after you both stop singing, “it’s magical, don’t get me wrong, but that song,” he smiles at you, “it’s a damn good song.”

You can’t help but smile back. “Thank you.”

“Cheol showed me a couple of the songs from the album.” Jeonghan mentions, and it instantly and heartbreakingly reminds you who you’re talking to. You hate that he has a nickname for him. “They’re amazing.” You look at him. He seems genuine. “They’re so good and real and raw that it almost makes me wonder…” his voice tapers off, losing the sound to a small exhale that appears as if it was meant to be a laugh, “Nevermind.”

“What?” You poke, instinctively leaning in towards him.

He meets your eyes, creases running along his forehead and frown lines more prominent than ever. “It almost makes me wonder if there was something between you both.”

You swallow, pointing at your chest. Your voice comes out raspy without you meaning for it to. “Me and Seungcheol?”

He nods. “Yeah, I mean the lyrics in ‘Begin Again’—“

“That song’s not about me. Or about him.” You defend. “We didn’t even know each other when we wrote that.”

“What about ‘Can You See Me’?”

Your breath catches. Truthfully, you answer, “I don’t know what that song’s about.”

—

When you get home that night, you finish the song you started writing about Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine? What kind of songs were we making? Were they all lies?

“What’s it called?” The question comes from Soonyoung.

You look up from the paper in your hands filled with the lyrics you had completed over the weekend and after Joshua’s party. You notice he looks sad. You turn your gaze to Minghao. You can’t really tell what he’s thinking in that moment.

“Uhm–I don’t know. I haven’t thought of a title yet.”

Seungcheol walks in then. “What are you guys talking about?” He asks, setting down his stuff. Then, more to himself than to you guys, he murmurs, “And where are Junhui and Josh?”

Soonyoung and Minghao don’t say anything. Instead, when Seungcheol asks what you’re doing, they both look at you. You imagine even if Junhui and Joshua were here, they’d do the same. Have you really been this transparent? At what point did they put together all the pieces?

You hand Seungcheol the song. You have no idea what his reaction will be.

He just nods, like he has no idea what the song is about. Like he doesn’t see his name and Jeonghan’s scribbled in the margins.

“Call it ‘Silver Lies’.” He says.

Minghao makes a noise. “Call it ‘Silver Linings’.”

“Vote on it?” Seungcheol proposes.

“No.” You look at Minghao. He stares back at you. Something unspoken lies in the space between. “We’ll call it ‘Silver Linings’.”

A party rages around you. Flashing teeth and flashing lights. Another drink, another riff. You don’t even know where you are right now. You remember coming home after working on ‘Silver Linings’; you remember wanting to forget your own mind. This is the only way you know how.

You don’t even know how long it’s been.

This is what you do know: You’re sitting by a pool. Your feet are wet. You haven’t been this drunk since your 18th birthday. Choi Seungcheol is standing across the pool from you.

Your face breaks out in a smile. Sober you will regret that. Sober you will also regret how your first thought is that he looks beautiful. You’ll regret the fact that you finally, drunkenly but honestly, admit to yourself how pretty you think he is, how you’ve thought so since your first time hearing him sing, and how you’ve been so painfully aware of it ever since.

You let yourself fall in the water. Head sinking for a moment, before breaking the surface again. Floating on your back, you start humming the melody to ‘Silver Linings’ in your head.

Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him.

You can’t tell if it’s the chlorine or something more pathetic that burns the corner of your eyes and runs down the side of your cheeks.

You feel something tug on your arm. The sudden jolt makes you lose your balance, falling beneath the water. You’re so fucking wasted you forget if you even know how to swim; you almost forget to not breathe.

You feel a pair of arms pull you up and hold your head above the surface. You know who they belong to. It strikes you in the back of your mind that this is the first time you’ve been touched by him. So maybe that’s why you relish in the feel of his arms around your waist and the way his hand grips at your hip.

He looks at you like you’re filth. Just as all your partners before him did. First they’re sweet and charming, but it always ends like this. In their arms, simultaneously wanting to be far away and fighting the urge to beg: love me, please.

Even if he wasn’t your partner, even if all he was was a hope and a ‘what if’.

You barely even register it when you say, “you're just like the rest of them.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He rages back, not even acknowledging what you said.

“Nothing.” You tell him, smiling, wishing like hell that you believed it.

“You missed our studio time. We were supposed to record ‘Silver Linings’.” He fumes at you. “Do you know what time it is? Do you even know what day it is?”

“Do you know how much of a fucking mood kill you can be?” You bite back.

“What are you on?” He looks repulsed. You hate it. Hate the way that you showed him your whole heart and that he still looks at you like this.

Seething, you say, “What do you think?”

And that—that is what breaks him. What makes him lose his shit and start screaming.

“Jihoon is fuming at us!”

You barely notice it. Instead, you repeat in your head the words to the one song you truly, wholeheartedly wrote for him.

“The record label isn’t going to let this slide, you do realize that, don’t you?”

When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine?

“You wasted an entire day of recording!”

What kind of songs were we making?

“No.” You say finally, voice coming out quiet. It sounds so misplaced and so wrong next to all the yelling between you two. “We wasted so much more than that.”

Were they all lies?

For the first time since you’ve seen him tonight, he doesn’t say anything back. He just stares at you, like he can see straight through. The party continues all around you. It never stopped. It never quieted down. And yet, it somehow feels like you and him are the only ones in this pool. Like you’re stuck in time. Like you’ve created your own world with him and that’s where you’ve retreated to now.

“Was any of it real?” You ask before you can stop the words. You hate how pathetic you sound. You hate how desperate it all is.

All he says before leaving you in the water alone is: “I’m with Jeonghan now.”

He splashes water in your face on his way out.

When Seungcheol walks into the studio, you’re already there, talking with Jihoon and someone else he doesn’t recognize.

“Hello.” He says cautiously to the group.

The man says hi back. You don’t look at him. Jihoon is the one that finally explains.

“Seungcheol, hey, this is Wonwoo. He’s from the paper, The Stones, and he’s going to be doing a piece on the band and the creation of the album. It’ll be an inside look into the process of making an album and a bit about the band itself.”

“Hey, man,” Seungcheol greets properly, extending his hand to shake. Wonwoo fumbles with a place to set down the pen and notebook in his hand for a second, before shaking it. Seungcheol doesn’t miss the way you scoff under your breath. “Wonwoo, right?” The reporter nods. “Anything you want us to do for you or for the piece?”

“No. Not at all.” He shakes his head profusely. “Just keep working on the album as you would normally. I might pop in here and there with questions, but other than that, it’ll be like I’m not even here.”

Seungcheol smiles brightly. “Well, you’re in for a treat today because we have a song to record.”

For the first time that day and for the first time since that night in the pool, you look at him. “No, we don’t.” He wonders if you remember that night, what you said to him, what he said back.

“Actually,” he reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper he’s been working on for the past two days. He hands it to you. “We do.”

You read the lyrics silently for a moment, then frowning, you read them aloud. “I’m used to making games out of broken hearts. Silly me for trying to play around with yours.”

Wonwoo makes a noise. “Damn. I wonder who that’s about.”

You snap, whipping back around to Wonwoo. “What happened to ‘it’ll be like I’m not even here’?”

He mutters an apology and quickly scribbles something down in his notebook. You turn back to Seungcheol. “I’m not singing that.”

He ignores you and looks at Jihoon. “Let me see the song.”

You extend the paper out to him without taking your eyes off of Seungcheol. In Jihoon’s defense, he’s been working the hardest to keep the peace as early as when you recorded ‘Being Again’ together. Nonetheless, your face still morphs from hurt to angry. Seungcheol doesn’t blame you, but he also doesn’t really give a fuck.

Jihoon, sounding more exhausted than Seungcheol has ever heard him sound before, only sighs. “How about we just try the song?”

—

Recording first starts with the instrumentals. The rest of the band recording their parts exactly as Seungcheol heard it in his head.

Finally, with the rest of it recorded, he focuses on vocals.

He only wants you singing it.

“Take one of...” Jihoon starts, speaking through the intercom. “What’s it called again?”

Seungcheol answers: “‘We Are Not Done.’”

You’re the only one in the recording stage. Seungcheol sits in the control room with Jihoon, Hansol, and Wonwoo. The rest of the band is either home, in the lobby, or behind him in the control room. Seungcheol’s already demonstrated for you the general beat of the lyrics against the instrumental. You still hold the lyrics up behind the mic, brows furrowed at them.

“Pour me a drink I–for all…” Normally, you’re a picture of confidence in the recording studio, but your first attempt to sing the song is an absolute train wreck.

Seungcheol reaches over Jihoon’s shoulder and presses the red button. “Cut. What’s going on?”

You look through the window, exasperated. “I don’t get it. The words, they just–”

“It’s–Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.” Seungcheol demonstrates again. “I can’t live with myself half past 12–and it’s just like that for this whole verse.” He waits a moment. “Good?”

You stare at the lyrics, brows still scrunched together. “Yea.”

“Okay. Take two.”

You sing: “Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.” Your voice is timid, almost. Seungcheol’s never heard you sound or act anything close to timid before. “I can’t live with myself half past 12.”

“Cut.” Seungcheol stops you again. “You have to sound larger than life singing, like you don’t care if people see how fucked up you are.”

“Excuse me?” You nearly scream at him.

“I’m talking about the song.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Take 3.”

You look mad now. At least that will be closer to what Seungcheol wants. “Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.”

“Cut.” Seungcheol can see you biting your tongue. “Sing it looser. Less restrained. Don’t worry about hitting the notes. Take 4.”

“Pour me a drink for all the fools–”

“Cut.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Even looser. Take 5.”

“Pour me a drink f–”

“Cut. Let your voice get ‘ugly’. Take 6.”

“Pour me–”

“Cut!”

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: So, Seungcheol, I remember there being an impossible number of takes for the track ‘We Are Not Done’, specifically for the vocals. In the end, How’d you get them to sing like… that?

Seungcheol: Sometimes all it takes is a little push

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: ‘We Are Not Done’ is such a force of nature. How’d you end up singing it like that?”

You: Well, let’s just say that Seungcheol is really good at what he does.

Wonwoo: And what does he do?

You: He inspires.

—

The red light flashes again. “Take 32.”

The only thought you have when the blue recording light turns back on is that you fucking hate Choi Seungcheol, but you still want him and you hate that he knows that.

The track starts.

Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me. I can’t live with myself half past 12. I’m used to making games out of broken hearts. Silly me for trying to play around with yours. I know you’re with someone new, But is that really true If you’re still thinking of my kiss and my tongue? I’m your wildest dream. I’m your best nightmare. You and me, baby, we are not done.

You’re beyond pissed driving home from the studio that day.

The first fucking day with the reporter and Seungcheol chose to make you look like an idiot. He chose to make you sing that song with Wonwoo sitting behind, taking it all in.

Not to mention that that was the first time you’ve seen him since he showed up at the party while you were trying to get over him the only way you know how. When he held you in his arms, made you feel so stupidly warm, and then left with someone else’s name on his lips.

You hate Seungcheol. Maybe joining the band wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth him.

Your vision goes red and all you can think is: isn’t he over this yet? Aren’t I?

Suddenly, there’s a bang. A puff of smoke. The airbag releases. Your entire body clenches, lurching forward and then back again harshly.

A crash, you register belatedly, staring at the hood of your car folded up like a piece of paper.

Paper.

You dig inside your glove box for your notebook and shove your hand in the space between the passenger seat and the center console to find a pen.

“What the fuck?” The man from the car you hit screams, stepping out of his car.

You ignore it. A song, you had it just then. You had it.

“You hit me!” He yells again, getting closer.

Your pen hits the paper, and it doesn’t stop until the song is on it. Not even when you notice blood drip. Not even when the man starts banging on your window.

Is it over now? Do you have the guts? To call it quits, baby, Say I’ve had enough. Is it over now? Can we say the words? I used to love you, Now I’m not sure.

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: What’s it been like working with the band? From ‘Begin Again’ to now?”

You: Oh, well, ‘Begin Again’ was a totally different story. I wasn’t really part of the group or anything. I was more just an outsider that Jihoon and the label had brought in. I changed up most of the lyrics, but the song was never really mine. I think it’s taken me a while to realize that. But, now, I mean, working on the album together couldn’t be more different. Seungcheol and I co-write almost all of the songs. It’s been a much more collaborative project compared to ‘Begin Again’. It’s been exhausting and tiring and life-consuming, but um, it’s been a lot of fun.

Wonwoo: So, going back a bit, if you rewrote all of the lyrics to ‘Begin Again’, how is it not your song?

You: Seungcheol already had some lyrics written for that song. I was just the one to figure out what he was really trying to say with them.

Wonwoo: Hm

Wonwoo: So what’s it been like working with Seungcheol?

You: Well, it definitely wasn’t easy at first.

Wonwoo: Why not?

You: I think we were both just used to writing alone. We learned a lot in those first couple writing sessions, and I think we’ve both grown a lot since then.

Wonwoo: What’d you learn?

You: We’re very similar people. We think about love very similarly. We have fought the same battles, and we’re both able to turn our pain and struggling into something beautiful.

Wonwoo: How would you describe you and Seungcheol’s personal relationship?

You: What do you mean?

Wonwoo: Friends, lovers, enemies, etc.

You: We have chemistry, but

You:

You: But I think that to write together there has to be love. What else would all the songs be about?

Wonwoo: Is that what ‘Can You See Me’ is about? Love?

You: That’s for each listener to figure out for themselves.

Wonwoo: You also said that you co-wrote most of the songs with Seungcheol.

You: Yes.

Wonwoo: So, did you guys co-write ‘We Are Not Done’ and ‘Is It Over Now?’?

You:

Wonwoo: No need to go into details if you’re not comfortable. I’m only really looking for a yes or a no.

You: It–

You: It’s not as simple as a yes or a no.

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: What’s it been like working with someone else for the song writing on this album?

Seungcheol: It’s been hard. There’s a lot of push and pull for each word in each song, but I think at the end of the day, we’ve been able to put together an almost complete record of songs that we’re both proud of.

Wonwoo: It’s been said that the two of you have chemistry–

Seungcheol: Who said that?

Wonwoo: –do you agree with that?

Seungcheol:

Seungcheol: It’s not what you think.

Wonwoo:

Seungcheol: Look, whatever chemistry people think there is between us, I mean, it–it’s for the music and for the songs, not for each other.

Wonwoo: Are you saying it’s all fake?

Seungcheol: No, but it’s not real life either.

Wonwoo: So you guys fabricated some of it to sell records?

Seungcheol: I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.

Wonwoo: Which is what?

Seungcheol: That there’s something between us romantically. There isn’t.

Wonwoo: Not even a little bit?

Seungcheol: Not even once.

The photo shoot for the album they decided should be in the desert. You’re not really sure why. Probably something to do with the desert show where you and the band first played together. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. If you did, you would have suggested the opposite. Maybe something on the shore. Nonetheless, you let them tell you where to sit and exactly how to do it.

The photographers look between each other after each flash of light in your face. Thank god they aren’t actors. You can read on their faces how much they hate each photo taken.

“You know what,” the head photographer says to the band, “let’s just take 5.”

You’re up immediately, walking away from the weird set they’ve put together and heading straight to the snack table. You say hi to Jeonghan standing there with a camera around his neck.

“Did the paper send you or did you come with Seungcheol?” You ask lightheartedly, picking at some grapes.

He laughs, fiddling with the lens. “No, not the paper. I just like to bring my camera with me sometimes. Plus,” he adds with a far off smile, looking up the hill at Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao talking, “reminds me of the old days.”

You look up past those three to where Soonyoung and Seungcheol are laughing at something you wish you were privy to. “I get that.”

“Actually, Seungcheol and I wanted to talk to you.” He says. His lips look pressed, eyes bright, fighting a smile but also fighting something else far beneath that. “Once the album wraps, we’re, uh, we’re gonna get married.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. It was his idea, but I’m really excited about it too.” He tells you, abashedly. “We’re gonna keep it small, I think. Do it back in our hometown so that our families can be there and everything. I think most of the band is gonna travel back too to be there, and, uh, I know it would mean a lot to both of us if you were there too.”

You look at Jeonghan. You don’t really think he’s lying about the last part, but that still doesn’t make it any easier for you to swallow. “I don’t really know if that’s a good idea.”

“I do.” Jeonghan doesn’t falter. It reminds you of you before Seungcheol. You wonder where that version of you went. After a moment, his face softens, lips turning down a bit, but eyes looking as kind and as big as ever. You notice that his hair isn’t silver anymore.

“I know that it’s complicated between you and Seungcheol. And I’m not going to act like I get it because I don’t. But I like you and I know he loves you. If not for anything, then for this.” Jeonghan gestures to the shitty set they prepared. You look at it, chuckling. It’s shitty, yes. But Jeonghan’s right. This must’ve cost the label a fuck ton of money. “He and the band wouldn’t have any of this if not for you. You did that for them.”

You turn back to Jeonghan. Genuinely, you tell him, “Thank you.”

You open your arms to him. He welcomes it, hugging you back. You exhale. You can barely remember the last time you did.

“Congratulations, Jeonghan.” You feel him grin.

“Please come.” He requests.

You don’t know if you will. But you do know that you’re happy for him.

—

The next round of photos are no better than the last. You hope at least Jeonghan, who’s moved on to taking pictures of the scenery, is having a better shoot day than the label-hired photographers.

You find Seungcheol again during the next break, standing in the back at the top most part of the hill, sun shining down directly behind his head.

“Hey.” He says to you, not casually but not maliciously either.

You stop in front of him, just staring. Without you even meaning to, you frown. Seungcheol must notice. He tilts his head. “What’s up?”

You inhale sharply. “You’re getting married.”

His mouth opens, then closes. “I’m getting married.”

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-it never..” He stops trying to find the words. You find that as more of an answer than anything he could’ve said. “I’m sorry.”

“Take me home.” You recite, thinking of the first window you ever had into Seungcheol’s heart. “Welcome me on those familiar roads. Embrace me in your arms. Oh please, tell me I still belong. It was always about him, wasn’t it?”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. You know him too well to think he would. Instead, he sucks in his bottom lip and turns his gaze to the ground. You bend your neck to see his face, see his red eyes. This is the only time you’ll have him like this again. This is it.

The only thing you have left to say to him is: “I hope you’re happy.”

—

When you go home that night, you drink yourself past consciousness. It’s only when you wake up with a pounding head the next morning do you see the song sitting next to you, written in sloppy, drunken handwriting.

Tell me was it worth all the pain Tell me would you do it over again Tell me was it worth the lights and your name Tell me was it worth the sound of my shame Tell me was it worth the album and the songs That I only sang thinking they were about us Tell me some it was true, not in my head Did we only kiss to sound how you wanted?

I know I’m not yours But let me your wildest dream You think of again On a bad night After a bad fight

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: Who wrote the last song on the album: ‘Not Yours’?

You: I did.

Wonwoo: When?

You: Right after the album cover shoot.

Wonwoo: What inspired it?

You: Well

You: I think that song had been singing in my heart for a while before I finally wrote it.

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: ‘Not Yours’ is such a heart-breaking song. What was it like recording it?

Seungcheol: Believe it or not, it was one of the easiest.

(Wonwoo’s interview with Jeonghan)

Wonwoo: It’s nice to finally meet you.

Jeonghan: You too. If I can be honest, I really didn’t expect to be called about this piece.

Wonwoo: Oh

Wonwoo: I just like to get all sides of it.

Jeonghan: Okay.

Wonwoo: I wanted to talk to you about the album photo shoot.

Jeonghan: Oh yeah of course.

Wonwoo: From my understanding, the picture that was chosen as the cover, was one that you took. Is that correct?

Jeonghan: Yeah. I took it during one of the breaks.

Jeonghan: I mean props to the photography team that was hired, I’m sure they’re amazing, but it wasn’t hard to tell that they were really struggling to photograph the band.

Jeonghan: I just happened to have my camera on me, and you know, I had photographed the band in the past, so I just kind of knew what to look for. And when I saw Seungcheol and them go off to the side to talk, my eyes just happened to follow them. And

Jeonghan: Well, I don’t know what they were talking about, but you can see it in the photo, you know?

Jeonghan: They’re looking at each other like it’s a very important conversion. And well, let’s just say that I know Seungcheol very well, and he’s never been a good actor, so it must have been. And, and the sky is so blue and so clear behind them which, I don’t know, to me sort of represents how there’s nothing coming between them in this moment either. There’s nothing that isn’t being said.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: When I saw that, I just knew I had to capture it.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: I had no idea that Jihoon would want to use it for the album cover. I wasn’t thinking like that.

Wonwoo: Was it weird at all?

Jeonghan: How so?

Wonwoo: To capture a picture of your finance and his bandmate looking at each other like that?

(Wonwoo’s interview with Jihoon)

Wonwoo: So does the album have a name?

Jihoon: Yeah. Of course.

Jihoon: Aurora

Wonwoo: Can you tell me anything about the band maybe going on tour?

Jihoon: Well, can’t say anything for sure yet, but there’s definitely been some talk from the label about it.

Wonwoo: If there were to be a tour, are you able to give us a sneak peek as to what it’ll be like?

Jihoon: Hmm

Jihoon: Did you happen to see the band play the festival in the desert?

Wonwoo: No, I did not.

Jihoon: Well, I’ll tell you what anyone who saw that show would say.

Wonwoo: Which is?

Jihoon: Get ready for the best fucking show of your life.

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: I heard most of the band is heading back to their hometown for the break.

You: Yeah, they are.

Wonwoo: Do you plan on joining them?

You: No.

You: I don’t think I will.

Wonwoo: What do you plan to do during your time off?

You: Well, I bought a one way ticket to Italy, so that should start something. Maybe I’ll go to Nepal or Japan or Brazil after that. I haven’t really decided yet.

Wonwoo: So, traveling.

You: Yeah, I guess.

You: Can you believe that the festival show we did is the farthest I’ve ever been from home?

You: It’s time I saw a little more of the world.

Wonwoo: The fans are really looking forward to a tour. Can you speak to when you will be coming back?

You:

You: Who’s to say I will?

213 notes · View notes

angelno404 · 5 days ago

Text

Does anyone remember that one time when Heart and Mind got mad that Minecraft was going woke so they decided to put aside their differences and work together to fight the liberal agenda and Soul was nowhere to be found because he abandoned them to move to Vegas in hopes of winning big at the casino after Darrell introduced him to virtual gambling and then they had to build a house from scratch because Soul sold their house for his gambling and they were in an area with barely any trees so they didn't have enough wood so as a solution they decided that they needed to call Will Wood to help them and then Will said he wrote a song for them and he ended up just singing Dr. Sunshine is Dead and Mind got offended and was like "What the fuck??" And Will got mad because he came all this way to help them and even wrote a whole song for them yet Mind was complaining so they got into an argument but the argument was literally just saying the lyrics to Outliers and Hyppocrates at each other with an annoyed and angry tone and then Mind went into the time loop mines to find resources so him and Heart and I guess Will Wood now didn't die but then he found out it was the time loop mines and every time he tried to leave he died and had to start over and Heart was alone in the box they lived in because Will never gave them the Wood and didn't see Mind for months because he was stuck in the stupid time loop mine

It was a deleted track from CCCCv1 but apparently the story arc will come back in vol 2

#chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cccc #cj #will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwatt #if you can actually guess rhe context to this I will personally put my heart mind and soul into drawing any drawing request you have

20 notes · View notes

pjisskullourful · 1 month ago

Text

• His Canvas •

🎨 Ethan × reader

18+ readers only!! 🔥 sweet but smutty, explicit af

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert

° you have been dating Ethan for a while and you decide that he's the one you want to lose your virginity to

wordcount: 10,027

° anon request: what about loosing your virginity to Ethan and like he knows that you desperately want him but he also knows and warns you that no matter her gentle he is, you probably won’t be able to walk the next day ° gigantic shoutout to queen @faye2607 for her amazing astrological insights that helped me figure out the direction of this fic& the title is inspired by a song from her spectacular spicy playlist 💋 [send your own request in here!] [or get more control& priority by booking a commission!]

° lyrics stolen from mia martina

° [ITA:] cristo: christ

paint my body boy, i'll be your canvas. don't talk to me, just show me your talent.

The fifth date and it was time for Ethan to show you one of his hidden talents - his strong artistic skills in the medium of painting. It was payback after you had shown him your hidden talent - knowing far too much about astrology. A lunchtime date at your apartment had ended with you putting hours into doing his birth chart. He had listened intently to every word, sitting on the ground with you as you had scribbled on different scraps of paper. He hadn't had someone explain this much about the zodiac signs to him before and you could tell he was actually interested, not just nodding while mentally wishing you would shut the Hell up.

It had taken up a lot of time, in fact it had taken up the remainder of the date. He had to rush off for rehearsals, leaving you in your self-created mess of enthusiastically sharing your special interest. He had to leave before the deed could be done.

The fourth date - you should have been sleeping with him by now. Every piece of media that you had ever consumed had told you that the third date was the magic one. A woman who didn't sleep with a man on the third date was frigid, prudish and not worth his time.

But now you were at the fifth date and you hadn't gone any further than second base. Your tongue knew his quite well at this point, but the question of what would happen if you let him do more than just unhook your bra hung heavy in the air.

He knew that you were a virgin (you had blurted this out during your second date) and it seemed he was determined to stay as respectful as possible. Potentially he was waiting for you to make the first move, but you kept finding distractions.

Was this what today's art project would be, just another distraction as you remained within your comfort zone? He had invited you to his apartment, but beyond telling you that it would include painting, you were in the dark of what he actually had planned. Was he going to teach you how to paint something? Would he ask if you could recreate the sketching scene from Titanic?

You had been to his apartment once before, but that was a quick stop in. This would be hours in his home.

It looked different to what you recalled, all of the furniture pushed out, towards the walls. In the lounge room, a large portion of the wood floors was covered by a plastic sheet. It clicked when you saw three canvases of varying sizes resting against the wall.

He came over to stand beside where you were, your eyes trying to locate the easels. He was dressed in a tank top that already bore smears of paint, all in different colours and different stages of fading to indicate the inconsistency of their ageing. When you looked at him, it was to find he was smiling and you felt yourself put at ease.

"I figured that we should do something less formal, something fun- 'cause you said you hadn't painted since you were a kid, right?" He said. "Which means the last time you painted was for fun and that's what we wanna do here- finger painting. You don't have to do anything that's focused on perfection. It's to just play in the paint, you don't have to try to impress me. Nothing too serious."

You snickered before you could stop yourself. "Sorry. It's just… you just literally always look like every situation that you're in is the most serious thing in the whole world."

He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "Just for that- you're getting the smallest canvas."

The two of you took up a place on the ground, cross-legged and surrounded by bottles of paint of seemingly every colour. He had one canvas laid out in front of him and, in the opposite of his threat, it was the smallest of the three. You had your own sitting in front of your folded legs, at a complete loss of where to start.

"Are you ready?" He asked, tying his hair away from his face into a quick, careless bun. "Or do you need more wine to get the creativity flowing?"

You picked up a bottle of lilac paint, popping open the lid and upending it over the blank white surface. "I've got it covered."

You squirted out a generous dollop towards the bottom right corner of the canvas, pushing it up in a half-circle. Then you collected a bottle of the darkest purple in sight. You worked at creating a gradient, adding in other shades of purple to fill out the canvas.

You kept sitting back to survey your progress, looking over it and letting your sticky hands rest. You couldn't stop yourself from seeing the imperfections - the different sections were inconsistent in size, the lines that separated them too obvious.

Then your overthinking became an issue for you to critique - surely you were thinking too much and messing this whole thing up. Your critical eye was keeping you from properly connecting with this process as he had intended. You worried that you were taking too long, so much of the canvas was still bare and he must be bored.

But when you looked up, you found that he wasn't progressing far ahead of you at all. His canvas had only one corner covered in a small swatch of light blue. Instead of paying any attention to his painting, he was watching you, a small, shy smile pulling at one cheek.

At once you felt self-conscious. "What? Am I doing this so terribly wrong?"

"No, not at all." He said, still looking amused. "I'm just… don't mind me. It's nothing, I'm just curious about your process."

"Does it look like I have any kind of process?" You asked. "Wait, but what about you? Or is this part of your process- studying me like a zoo exhibit?"

"I wasn't… you're cute, okay? And I was getting distracted, 'cause I just wanted to look at you."

You felt a stirring of giddiness in your gut as you smiled at him, it made you tremble, it made you want to take action. You broke eye contact just long enough to swipe your finger through a dollop of paint. "Well, that's not what I came here to do. I wasn't told that I'd be getting googly eyes on me." You leaned forward, across the space between the two of you. "I was promised painting."

You smeared the purple paint across his cheek and he smiled, no witty retorts lined up for this scenario.

"This paint is non-toxic, right?" You asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, that's good, because…" You put a darker shade of purple on your fingers before you dragged them over his other cheek. "Sorry, I just have a thing about symmetry. It would've driven me nuts looking at just one painted cheek."

"Good, I'm glad, I would hate for you to go nuts."

You looked down at his canvas. "You look like you've hit a bit of a creative block here, huh? Do you need some help?"

"Help?" He repeated.

"Yeah, maybe it's the canvas, maybe it's the wrong, like, medium, or whatever." You said. "Maybe if you painted on something else, it could give you a different perspective on what to paint."

He furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side. "What are you suggestin-..." His eyes grew wide as he watched your movements. "What are you...what are you doing?"

You had grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off from over your head. "What if you painted on me?" You pushed yourself up onto your knees.

He gazed up at you. "What do you, um, are you sure?"

"Yeah." You said with a shrug. "You said the paint was non-toxic."

He was starting to smile as you continued taking off your clothes, wriggling free of your denim shorts. "I've never really painted on someone's body, and I don't even know if this is the right paint for that. But, that could be fun. I've already kinda got an idea in mind."

"You do?" Your face flushed, your heart pounding - the way you were trembling under his gaze was more intense than usual.

"Yeah." He had grabbed a paintbrush. "I could paint a fish scale design up-and-down your legs, to kind of make you look like a mermaid, mid-transformation or something. Does that make any sense?"

You nodded. "It does and I think that sounds really cool, I'd love to get turned into a mermaid."

"Okay." He picked up the mostly-blank canvas and moved it away, clearing the space in front of him, right before his folded legs. "Sit here and you can just stretch your legs out, or you can lay down if that's more comfortable."

You considered making a joke out of asking if he wanted you to spread your legs. But the words got stuck in your throat. You could feel the anticipation was thick in the air between the two of you and you were silently grateful that you had put on a cute, matching pair of lingerie.

It was the first time he was seeing your underwear, it was the first time anyone was seeing your underwear. You had been expecting this moment, both excited for and nervous over it. Your body had always been your secret, all of the parts that you didn’t like could be kept hidden.

But now you were exposing and entrusting yourself to him. You knew that he’d dated skinnier girls. Maybe there had been girls who could keep up with him in the gym - girls who had contoured muscles, where you had curves.

But if he noticed your stretch marks, it was for less than a second. His gaze spent most time on your face - this was where he was studying, trying to read what you weren’t saying.

You sat down with him on your left side, stretching your legs out straight in front of you. “Paint me like one of your French fishies.”

“Do you have any colour palette in mind?” He asked.

“None whatsoever.”

He had picked up one of the mixing trays, resting this on his knee, before he started to grab at different bottles of paint. “You started with purple over there, which I appreciate, ‘cause that’s my favourite colour. We could have these warm-toned purples…” He showed each colour to you. “And what I think would also look great, adding in some oranges. Again, in these warm-tones, ‘cause that’ll match the warm colour of your eyes.”

You smiled, he hadn’t required a second look to confirm the colour of your eyes. He already knew this detail beyond a shadow of a doubt. “That sounds good to me.”

He prepared the colours, squirting a few generous dollops onto the palette. You were experiencing what was the opposite of leering - there had been men on the street that had stared at your body for a greater length of time.

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, like if I put my hand somewhere that you don’t want it or anything- please, tell me straight away and I’ll stop, no explanation needed, I’ll just…” He demonstrated how quickly he could raise his hands into the air, making you chuckle a little, reminding you of a criminal getting a gun pointed at them. “Okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “Okay, thank you.”

He had wet the bristles of the brush with the purple paint, but he touched your skin with his fingertips. “Are there any ticklish or otherwise sensitive spots that I should avoid?”

You bit into your lip, it didn’t matter how respectful his gaze was, he was still able to make you blush. “No, you can touch me wherever.” His hand halted on your knee, his eyes growing wider. “I mean, when you’re painting, uh, when you’re painting on my legs.”

“Good to know.” He said, his hand holding firm to your knee as his fingers caressed over your skin.

When he did start painting on you, it seemed that he was picking the safest zone possible - creating his first cross over your ankle, the outside of your ankle. In precise strokes, he painted higher up your leg, the purple lines evenly spaced in a uniform pattern.

But watching the painting as it developed on your skin couldn’t hold your interest for very long. Soon, you had found something better to focus on.

“Now who’s studying who like an exhibit at the zoo?” He asked, meeting your eye as he paused to dip his brush back into the paint.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Where am I supposed to look, Ethan? You’re right in front of my face.”

“Are you complaining about that?”

“No…” You said, your voice smaller than before as you temporarily looked back to where he was progressing. “I would never complain about having you so close to my face.”

He was smiling as he readjusted how he was holding your leg steady, with his hand gliding up your skin until he could hold you firmly at the underside of your knee. “You’re so cute.”

Even beyond where he was touching, you could feel your skin heating up. “Really? You still think I’m cute, even after I smeared paint on you for literally no reason?”

“No, you had a reason.” He said, his paintbrush beginning to apply colour across your kneecap. “You were being cheeky, which does add to the whole cuteness factor you’ve got going. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you attacked me with paint, but I just hadn’t expected the date to go this way.”

“Is that so?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

The top of your knee was covered, but he didn’t move onto your thigh as you had been hoping. Instead he was guiding your leg over, allowing him to start on the other side of your ankle.

“Yep.”

“You didn’t plan this date- this quite messy date, to have the risk of my clothes getting dirty, so that you could offer to clean them at once?”

“No, I would never try to trick you out of your clothes.” He said.

“You wouldn’t have to trick me.” You said in response to the earnest look on his face. “You could just ask.”

“Apparently I don’t even have to do that.” He joked as he gestured to your current state of undress, making you giggle. “I’m really glad that you feel comfortable enough to sit here with me like this…”

You shrugged. “Comfortable, waiting for any excuse to take my clothes off in front of you. Same thing, right?”

His eyes were wider as he got distracted from turning you into a mermaid again, all of his attention placed on reading your body language. “Oh, is that what you were angling for?”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, a warm blush taking over your face. “Will it make you think less of me if I say yes?”

He placed the brush and palette aside, covering your unpainted knee with his hand. “Not at all.” The way his soulful eyes gazed into yours, there was no doubting his sincerity. “There is something very sexy about a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to communicate that.”

The change in adjective felt significant and now you were really blushing. “Not cute?”

“No, I meant what I said, sexy.” He said. “I think you’re sexy. I was thinkin’ that before you took your clothes off and I’ll still find you sexy when your clothes are on again.”

You smiled, feeling your heart overflowing with so many giddy emotions. But none of these could be translated into words, there was a lack of efficient language in your head right now.

You endeavoured to let your actions speak for you instead, planting a hand on either side of his face and drawing him in closer. You were still grinning as your lips met, with your fingers caressing his cheeks while one of his hands moved into your hair. Your chest swelled, the excitement pumping through your system faster than ever.

He put his arm around your waist and your bodies were even closer as he followed the hungry rhythm that you set. You grasped his shoulders as you felt yourself in what could have been familiar territory - you were comfortable kissing him, he had told you what he liked, you didn’t get nervous over this level of intimacy.

But the thoughts rushing through your mind kept you feeling that this was only half-familiar. You sunk into every sensation, but you were thinking of what else you could feel. The excitement was at a dizzying height and your breath grew shallower as you prepared for a diversion from regular indulgences. His hand on your back touched to where your bra was clasped shut, but it moved away far too quickly.

You pulled away, licking your lips. His eyes remained shut and you saw him remaining in that moment. You craved to know how the desire felt for him - what would you have to do to get him to share it?

“I believe you that this wasn’t how you wanted the date to go, but now that this is how it’s going…” You said, shifting in your dampened panties. “Can we let it go further?” His eyes had fluttered open as he held his hands at the middle of your back - if you had been clothed and in public, this wouldn’t have drawn stares that questioned the appropriateness.

“I wanna sleep with you.” You said as his eyes studied your face, trying to pick out the nonverbal cues he had learnt as you got to know one another. “Can we have sex?”

“You don’t wanna be a mermaid?” He asked.

You smiled as you replied. “Not anymore, I wanna be the girl who gets to say that you’re her first.”

His hand went to your cheek, drawing you in for more kisses. There were butterflies in your stomach, you were so thrilled that he hadn’t rejected you. You savoured each kiss, feeling how it was leading to something more, something grander.

“I want you.” He said, his lips remaining very close to yours. “I want you to show- will you show me how to make you feel good?” His eyes were staring directly into yours. “Will you show me the secrets of your body?”

The intensity of his gaze only heightened the impact of his words, making you start to lose your breath. “Yes, I want you to have them.”

His lips brushed against yours, making your eyes flutter shut before he whispered to you. “All of your secrets are safe with me. Do you wanna lay down and get comfortable for me?”

You didn’t suggest a change in setting, you paid little to no attention to all of the paint supplies surrounding you. You moved out of his embrace, ignoring the crinkling sounds that the drop-sheet made as you started to lie down. Flat on your back, you kept your eyes on him and the thoughtful expression that he wore.

He came over to sit beside your hip, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. “You don’t have to get totally naked if you don’t want to. There’s no need to take your underwear off if you aren’t comfortable with that.”

You readjusted, moving your hands up to the clasp of your bra because you were practically naked already and this felt like the next logical step. You took your bra off and his eyes travelled down to this part of your body, taking in more than anyone else had. You bit into your lower lip as you picked up the waistband of your panties, moving them down, until you could kick them off.

Your whole body was buzzing with adrenaline and you weren’t entirely sure how to act now that you were so far out of your depth. But he was there, so at least you weren’t facing this on your own.

“You can just tell me, at literally any second, if you aren’t enjoying yourself or if something makes you uncomfortable, okay? I need you to know that.” He said.

“Okay.” You said with a nod. “Do you think that you could take your shirt off? Just so that I’m not the only naked one.”

“Of course.” Instantly he grabbed for the bottom of his shirt.

You watched this keenly, a smile forming on your lips as your eyes moved over that perfect torso. “Nice.”

He chuckled as he tossed the shirt off to the side, some of his hair fell loose from the tie in this process. He smiled when your eyes met again. “Do a big stretch for me, okay?” He raised his arms up above his head and you copied this demonstration. You stretched all the way down to your feet, even pointing your toes. “Good. Do you feel that tension melting off of your body?”

“Yeah.” You said. “So, what is it that you wanted me to do exactly?”

“I wanna know how to treat you the way that you like, so if you wouldn’t mind giving me a kind of tutorial by touching yourself. Only if you want to. I think it will help you relax and it puts you in control of the situation, which is how I want it to be.” He said.

“Okay.” You said and you laid a hand down over your bare cunt. You weren’t sure how to start, but you knew that your pussy was getting desperate for attention.

You could see the encouragement in his eyes and you moved your thighs a little further apart. Touching lightly, you used your fingers to explore the curves of your crotch. You could feel how heated this area was as your fingers brushed over the tight curls of hair.

You massaged your labia, just letting the blood pool in this area for a moment. He leaned down alongside you, using an elbow to keep himself somewhat propped up. He seemed unable to determine where to rest his eyes, looking from your pussy to your face and back again, the most thorough audience you could ever have.

You slipped your hand down lower, extending two of your fingers. With these, you sought out your entrance. You weren’t surprised to find just how wet your cunt was as you moved your fingers for the hole. You spread yourself open with the tips of your fingers.

He leaned in closer, his breath warming your face before you felt his lips caressing yours. You kissed him back as you ran your fingers up-and-down the sides of your entrance. He broke away only slightly, murmuring against your lips. "Take your time, okay?" You kept your fingers in their steady motion as he looked into your eyes. "There's absolutely no hurry."

You nodded, unable to think of anything to say right now. He remained close, kissing you slowly, with little breaks in between so that he could keep watching you. You guided the tips of your fingers inside of your wet walls. You maintained control, only going in slightly, just to get your fingers coated in the eager moisture.

You took your fingers up, gliding them up to your clit. With your thighs clenching, you began playing with the sensitive bud. It felt exciting and dreamy straight away, making you want to keep going. He put one hand to the back of your head, cradling you here as his eyes moved from your face to your pussy again, almost like a pendulum swinging back-and-forth.

You rubbed the hood up-and-down, taken in by the building sensations. He was seemingly transfixed by you and you let him see you squirm. Your chest was tight and you started to press a little more firmly.

You didn't stop to question yourself, or give time for shame to sink in, instead you somewhat confidently followed what felt good. You swirled the tips of your wet fingers around your clit, making yourself quiver in the process. You kept going as your knees shook and he began pressing kisses to your lips again. You slipped into the momentum with him, your mouths moving in sync with one another.

You stopped your swirling, seeking out a different kind of stimulation. You extended your middle finger and moved your hand down, until you could penetrate your cunt. You went in properly this time, whimpering against his mouth as you pushed in deeper.

His curiosity prompted him to break the kiss and he looked down at your progress. Lightly, he placed his hand over the wrist of your occupied hand. “Does that feel good?”

It took effort to swallow. You were sure that your eyes and reactions were giving away your enjoyment. But he wanted to hear it. And that was intimidating, you weren't accustomed to speaking during masturbation. He wanted you to expose what you were truly feeling, inviting you to savour something you could occasionally feel ashamed of.

But you felt soothed, trusting he would take care of you and whatever you offered to him.

“Mm-hmm, yeah. I really like the way it feels.” You said.

“Do you wanna keep going?” He asked.

“Definitely.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to yours. “Show me more.”

You had started to move your finger, going back-and-forth between your receptive inner-walls. He kissed you more, at the same time his hand was leaving your wrist, moving to cover your hand. He was just shadowing you at first, getting a sense of the momentum you had established.

Then you felt him properly grip your hand, this was followed by him adding to your pumps, guiding you to more defined conclusions. You couldn't determine if it was his influence or not, but you began to increase your speed. This allowed you to tap into some wonderful friction.

As you kissed him back, you could feel your gut tightening because you were anticipating the next level of this pleasure. You couldn't help it. You were feeling confident that an orgasm would happen, but first you needed to get through that intimidating loss of control, marked by wild tremors. It was all getting closer, you were sure of it.

“What do you usually do next? Do you go in deeper and try to get your g-spot?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” You said, keeping your eyes shut.

“Do you wanna show me, baby?”

Your breath shook, not filling your lungs as much as you hoped for. “Mm-hmm.”

His hand remained attached to yours as you began extending your finger in deeper. You concentrated on moving it the right way, bringing your other fingers flush to your wet labia. He was too distracted by watching you to kiss you presently. Your breath skipped again-and-again as you strived for consistency.

You found the sweet spot, warmth blooming into your tummy in response.

But you didn't get fixated on this stimulation. You moved your hand, acting on an impulse before you could overthink it and get scared. You removed your finger so that you could change the way his hand held yours, you relocated his hand to the bottom. Now your hand was going to guide his as he gained uninterrupted access to your bare skin. You pressed your finger into the back of his middle finger, giving him the indication that this was the one you wanted.

He didn’t rush, letting his finger get slowly swallowed by the warmth of your pussy. He took a moment to watch what he was doing.

When his eyes moved back to your face, you felt like you could have immediately caught fire under his gaze. It was intense, so intense that you didn’t know what to do.

Your only solution was to return his intensity by kissing him. You wrapped your arm around him and lifted your torso from the floor a little. You shut your eyes as you captured his lips with yours. You enjoyed a kiss that felt like it didn’t have to end - both of you had nothing but time to explore this new level of intimacy, which kept your heart fluttering.

You preferred the feeling of his finger in your cunt. Your appreciation for the thicker digit only increased when he began to curl it, reaching up once he was in deep enough. A little whine left your mouth because you were feeling amazed over how easily he had found your g-spot.

Even more amazing was what he could do with it. Dazzling tingles were spread all throughout your body as he ended every plunge of his finger by colliding with your g-spot. As he steadily worked his finger back-and-forth between your inner-walls he made you wait to feel the tip of his finger in that magical spot again. The anticipation made you squirm. And it was always worth the wait.

You couldn’t help the way that your hips started to move, excited little thrusts that worked to their own pacing. When you weren’t actively thrusting, there were twitches and shivers that took over your body. You clung to him even tighter, your fingernails pressing against his skin.

You were moaning before your mouths separated, the sound only getting louder once the kiss had ended. You held your eyes shut, trying to come to terms with the pressure that was building up at such a deep point inside of you. It was going to get overwhelming, already proving to be inescapable.

“Is-... does that feel good?” He asked.

You gave a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s-... do you really need to ask me that?” You met his gaze. “I thought it would be obvious that I’m liking it.”

A sly smile came onto his face as the movement of his fingers eased off slightly (it felt like he was giving you a chance to think, how considerate). “Well, yeah. But do you have any idea how sexy it would be to hear you saying all the things that you’re feeling and enjoying, the things you’ve never shared with anyone else before?”

“That sounds dirty.” You said.

“Yeah, you could call it dirty talk.” He said and you almost felt like laughing again. “Did you want to try it for me?”

You hesitated. “What if I’m not good at it?”

The first part of his response was to kiss you. “Don’t think so much about it, baby. It’s the honesty that makes it sexy, you don’t have to be poetic, or even grammatically correct. And no matter what you say, I will not laugh at you. I promise.”

You nodded as you looked into his eyes, not doubting him for a fraction of a second. His words were immediately believable because he almost always looked so damn serious.

“Okay.” You said, moving in closer to him and closing your eyes, this made it easier to feel like you could lose yourself in all of this.

You kissed him, trying to think without falling victim to overthinking. He let you feel more stroking from his finger and this helped you break free of any thought cycles. You caressed his cheek as his massaging continued to give you indescribable sensations.

“You can go faster…” You said, unable to get your voice above a whisper. “I wuh-... would you go faster for me?”

“Of course, I’ll do anything you want.” He murmured against your lips, his words quickly followed by kisses.

He pumped his finger with more speed and maybe he went in deeper too. This prompted more eager whines to swell up in you and he consumed them all instantaneously.

You had never felt closer to anyone else, you thought you might stay on this high for at least a day, maybe longer. “You’re making me… that feels so good.”

“Good, baby, that’s exactly what I want.” He said, his voice was the perfect companion to all of the sensations rushing you. “Can I try a second finger?”

“Yep, I wanna try that.” You said.

His lips went to your very warm cheek as he retracted his finger, just the tip of it held by your cunt. Then he eased a second fingertip into this space.

Slowly he extended both fingers and your cunt adjusted for this. He didn’t rush for depth and you felt a new kind of warmth rushing out from your core, reaching down both legs. It was decadent, inviting you into the sweet surrender.

“Breathe deep.” He said in between kissing on your cheek.

You did this, your chest trembling in the process. At the same time you were feeling his fingers going deeper. You followed with another deep breath while your attention was primarily consumed by the gentle spreading of your cunt. It was more important than your breathing rate currently was.

“Is that too much?” He asked.

“No, I like it.” You said.

“That’s perfect.” He breathed into your ear.

He wasn’t stopping, there was still more of his fingers to fill you. Your cunt continued to accommodate this with the eagerness that you felt with each heartbeat. There was a pressure starting in the deepest part of you and you knew exactly what it could lead to.

Once his fingers were entirely buried inside, he tensed them. Then they curled and he was reaching for a different angle. Your breath caught when you realised he was going for your sweet spot again.

Both of his fingertips crashed into your g-spot, making your head fall back. You latched your hands onto him, gripping with all of your strength. You arched your back, feeling even more pressure at your core.

“Oh, Ethan…” You rasped as he brought motion into his fingers, bringing them back so that he could repeatedly push into your sweet spot.

Your hips were rocking again. Your movements weren’t perfectly synchronised to him, you didn’t have the coordination for that. This was just about using some of the powerful energy in your body, and the bits of friction you earned felt like an extra reward.

“Do you wanna come?” He asked.

“Yeah, yes, I do, I really wanna.” You said.

He moved his fingers faster again, until his treatment of your sweet spot was relentless. You could feel yourself beginning to fall apart, your sensitivities absolutely dominating you.

“Alright then, come for me.” He said.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you, a careful stare that noticed every reaction. You were too filled with ecstasy to get weighed down with the insecurity that you would look ugly as you orgasmed. You let any thinking like that go.

And before too long, the pressure inside of you was snapping. You swore as your body jerked into his. It felt like all of your muscles were melting and you were grateful for his arm around you to keep you at least a little steady.

He pulled his fingers out of you, enabling him to wrap his other arm around you. As the warmth of your release started to peter out, the warmth of his body comforted you. His lips covered your forehead with kisses as you started to catch your breath again.

“Good girl.” He whispered. And even though this was the first time you had heard this, you immediately liked its sound. “You’re such a good girl…” You had started to smile, feeling like you had earned this compliment. “Good fucking girl.”

“That felt amazing.” You said, still elevated by the tingles in your body.

“Thank you for sharing your secrets with me.” He said and you lifted your head as you began to keep your eyes open for longer. “I appreciate it.”

You were infatuated by the high that filled you, and it had spawned from him. You caressed his cheek as you admired him. “What about your secrets?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it can’t just be all about me. What about how you’re feeling? I hope that got you turned on.” You said.

“Oh, it did, it really did. You don’t have to worry about that.” He quickly told you.

“Good.” You said and you placed a kiss on his lips. “So, don’t you wanna have sex?”

“No, I do, I definitely do. The idea of being your first is appealing to me, very appealing.” He said. “But I don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

You sat up, feeling more assertive. You put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. In this context, being overwhelmed could be a great, fun thing, right?” You gave him some more kisses. “I know that some people really like overwhelming their partners. It’s okay if that’s a thing you aren’t really into. But I’m not against-”

“It’s not that I’m not into…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Even if we put that aside, approval or disapproval, whatever. Beyond that, no matter what I do, no matter how gentle I try to be: it’s going to hurt you. That’s just the nature of first times, and I only want to make you feel good.”

“It can’t be that bad.” You said while you were still feeling brave.

“You might not be able to walk tomorrow.” He said.

This was such a dramatic statement that you couldn’t help the way you burst out laughing. This was something that would get said in porn, not real life. It was so unexpected and over the top that you couldn’t take it seriously, not at first.

Then you realised that he wasn’t laughing with you. He wasn’t smiling, not even a little bit.

Feeling awkward, you raised a hand up to cover your mouth as you started to get your laughter under control. As the sound died down, he continued to look at you with that serious expression.

“Sorry, I really thought that you were joking.” You said.

“No, I’m just trying to prepare you for what will probably happen if we sleep together.” He said.

As it got clearer that he wasn’t going to reveal this as some sort of prank, you tried to wrap your head around what he was actually saying. It seemed that he meant these words he was saying, so you needed to figure out how that made you feel. It was difficult to know how to respond to something so unexpected.

“Honestly, I don’t know-... I don’t get it. How is losing my virginity gonna affect my ability to walk?” You asked.

He cast his eyes down, taking an extra moment to gather his thoughts as he swallowed. “It’s ‘cause you wanna lose it to me. And I’m…” He hesitated, sighing. “This is gonna make me sound like such a fucking douchebag. But I’m- well, it’s kinda big. And your pussy, and your body are gonna go from nothing to a lot. It could turn out to be more than you can take.”

You definitely didn’t feel like laughing now. “Shouldn’t it be up to me to decide what I can or can’t take?”

“Baby…” He sighed.

You put your hands to his cheeks, easing him into looking up at you, meeting your eye again. “I appreciate you trying to, like, warn me. But I’m not worried like you are, and I don’t want to get into that headspace. I don’t have work or any kind of plans for tomorrow, so I can spend the entire day in bed, off my feet if I need to. I believe this will be worth it.”

You saw his lips part and you rushed to add another point before it was his turn to talk. “Please don’t ask me if I’m sure, because I definitely am. I couldn’t be anymore sure than I am of the fact that I wanna lose my virginity with you.”

“You’re really sexy when you’re all assertive like this.” He said, hints of a smile coming onto his face. “I can’t say that I’m not attracted to this side of you.”

“Explore it with me.” You said, inching closer to him as you were feeling encouraged again. “Stop worrying and just…”

You concluded your thought by putting your lips to his. To you, everything was so clear in that kiss.

But he gently broke it before you were ready for it. “Not here.”

He secured your hand in his then started to get up from the ground. You were grinning as you stood up as well. He led the way and you keenly kept up with him, heading for the hallway that led to his bedroom.

You had only been passing by this room before. The uncharted territory was very exciting.

He walked toward the bed, but turned to you rather than sitting or lying down. His eyes appraised you and you felt quivers throughout your body as his hands caressed your naked sides.

He licked his lips as you eased yourself in closer, feeling his body heat touching your skin again. He let you initiate the next kiss, stepping up the intimacy. He kissed you back as you put your hands on his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you to press against him. As you enjoyed this closeness, you got the sense that he had stopped being so consumed by his worries. And so you didn’t have to keep yourself prepared for this embrace to end at any second.

You slid your tongue past his lips, tasting him deeper. At the same time he trailed his fingertips down your back. You felt so secure with him like this, even though you couldn’t predict what he was going to do next.

He didn’t rush you to progress, it seemed that he was perfectly happy to just go on kissing you. You tapped into your assertive streak, initiating the next step as you desired it. You moved your hands to the top of his chest and pushed, only separating from his mouth once it was absolutely necessary.

He knew what you wanted without you having to speak. He backed up a couple of steps. Once he was close enough, you gave him a proper shove, getting him to fall back and land on the bed, his hair (which had come completely loose at some point) fanned out in the air around his head. Before he could get settled, you proceeded to place yourself on top of him. He put his hands on your body, supporting you as you climbed on top, bracing yourself with a knee on either side of his hips.

He gathered your hair up in his hands, holding it away from your face as you swooped down to capture his lips. As you kept kissing him, you pressed more of your body into him, gradually bringing more of your weight to rest on him.

When you eased your tongue into his mouth again, he moved his hand to the back of your head, encouraging you as he gently held you in place. Serving your greediness, you started to grind your body on him. At the same time you were massaging your tongue on the roof of his mouth. You could feel his body responding to you and it invigorated you.

“You’re so perfect.” He said as you moved your lips lower, exploring onto his chin, and then throat. “Your sexiness: I can hardly believe it’s real.”

You paused, so surprised that you had to look at him. “How do you think I feel when I’m looking at you? You’re so unbelievable, Ethan.”

He gave you a quick kiss. “We can stop anytime you need to.”

“Thank you. But that feels like the opposite of what I need.” You said. “Please keep talking to me. Through the whole thing: please just talk to me, that’s what I need. But not like I’m a virgin that you have to over-explain everything to. Talk to me like I’m any other girl.”

“But you’re not any other girl.” He said.

Whatever you had been planning to say next promptly went flying out of your head. As you stared at him in the aftermath of that statement, you felt like you could have melted. You rushed to memorise these unexpected words.

A moment was necessary to gather yourself. “Just don’t feel like you can’t do shit with me. I don’t know what I don’t like, not really. So I wanna try heaps of stuff, everything. It’s gonna be amazing for me, no matter what. But I want it to be amazing and fun for you too.”

He lifted himself up a little, kissing you. “It already is, babe.”

He wrapped his arms around you as he readjusted, getting himself into a sitting position. Your body was controlled, ultimately moved off of his. He guided you onto the bed, then showed you that he wanted you to lay down on a pillow. You complied, getting comfortable as his attention went to the nightstand.

“I’ve got a lubricated condom here.” He said and you saw the small, packaged item now in his hand. “That should help us with, um, the fit. But if it starts to hurt, I need you to tell-...”

You placed your hand over his, giving it a brief squeeze to ensure that you had his attention. “I will. Could I see it, so I know what I’m preparing myself for?”

He held the square wrapper up for your benefit. “It says extra lube on the packet, but I’m sure it looks just the same as any other condom.”

“Uh-huh, I meant your cock.” You said. “And I think you know that. Please? You’ve been seeing me naked for hours now.”

He bobbed his head as he moved his hands down to the fly of his jeans. “Okay, you’re right.”

You did your best to affix your poker face (you hoped it was enough to convince him that you weren’t intimidated, as it was enough to convince your co-workers that you were genuinely interested in small talk with them).

He got the pants undone and down. As he removed them altogether, your eyes went to the shape that was pressing against the inside of his briefs. Your breath came in a little quicker as you properly registered the fact that you were about to see something you had fantasized about many times.

He started to take the underwear down, and quite quickly his cock sprung free. Your eyes grew wide because it was big - he hadn’t been over-exaggerating from a place of ego. You thought that both of your hands wrapped around it wouldn’t be enough to cover the entire length.

“Do you remember what I was saying a couple of minutes ago- about how you’re unbelievable” You asked as he removed his briefs. “Yep, I’m very confident that I chose the right word.”

He smiled, looking bashful. “Thanks, babe. We can take it as slowly as you like, I don’t want it to be too much for you.”

You parted your legs, creating a space that he could fill. “What if I want it to be too much?”

“You’re very ambitious, huh?” He asked as he tore into the condom wrapper. “Is that something that was covered in your birth chart?”

“Oh yeah, it’s in there. Does the ambition take away from my sexiness, or does it add to it?” You asked. You were hoping it wasn’t making you seem rude the way you couldn’t consistently make eye contact with him. You were getting distracted by watching him put the condom onto his erection.

“Adds to.” He said with a decisive nod. “Nothing could take away from how sexy you are.”

He got all of his shaft covered, then he started to lie down with you. He took his turn to be on top, kissing you as he settled into this new position.

You had never felt his body like this before, with nothing to interrupt or distract from the sensation of skin-on-skin. You didn’t mind the way this kept you from totally filling your lungs. Instead your focus went to noticing the brand new spots where you could feel his body connecting with yours. You were excited by what you didn’t know, rather than intimidated. You wrapped your arms around him, thrilled by the possibilities to be explored.

“Mm.” You hummed against his lips. “Are you gonna show me the secrets of your body?”

He caressed your hip, giving it some experimental squeezes, which you were definitely enjoying. “Yes, I’m gonna for you, my good girl.”

The hints of possessiveness in his tone pleased you, added to the intoxicating feeling in your head. You kissed him because you didn’t have any words worthy of saying right now. You knew you wouldn’t be able to express how marvellous it felt being wanted more so than you ever had been before.

He did some readjusting in the space between your legs, only one of his hands held onto you as he altered how his body weight rested on you. This led to you feeling something new pressing against you, high up on your inner-thigh. It took you a moment to recognise that this was his erection. The realisation made your heart skip over some beats.

The curiosity was burning through you. But you weren’t left waiting long to feel his dick on your crotch, being directed to your entrance. You kept kissing him, concentrating on what you knew you could handle.

You felt some pressure at your entrance, but it didn’t progress to anything more than that. You thought his hesitation had everything to do with you. Without separating from his lips, you showed him that you were ready for more by grinding your hips on his.

Your eagerness only grew with the tentative tempo that you moved your hips with. You could feel how sensitive from the earlier orgasm your pussy still was. The blood rushing back into this area made you notice a throbbing.

You got your hips lined up in a way that allowed you to drag your pussy up-and-down his shaft. You rubbed your wet heat along him, prompting him to wrap an arm around your middle, holding you firm to his body. The sounds of your lips meeting was soon accompanied by his quick inhales.

Your confidence in your movements was continuing to grow, but he was soon interrupting by drawing his hips away. There was some distance between your bodies, and you instantly disliked it.

But before you could figure out how to fix it, he was coming back to you. The first thing you felt was his cock, the tip pressing into your cunt. He didn’t pull it back this time. Instead you got to feel the increasing pressure that came from him beginning to fill into you.

You clung to him tighter than before, depending on the security of his embrace through these brand new sensations.

He paused while there was still more length to be buried into you, his arms tensed as he braced himself. “You okay, baby?”

Your heart was racing and you could feel quivers rushing through your system as you stood on the precipice of more. “Yeah, yep, I can take it.”

“Breathe deep.” He said, those serious eyes watching you carefully.

You nodded, but this very simple instruction took more effort than usual to complete. Your chest slowly inflated as you drew in a shaky breath. Your eyes fluttered shut and you moved your focus to how the breath felt.

As you were exhaling you felt him move closer, pushing in deeper. The pressure seemed to become more evenly distributed through your body, a presence you had to acknowledge.

“Good girl.” He said, inserting more of his length gently. “Do you like it?”

It was all-encompassing and the hints of intimidation only added to your excitement. Everything you were feeling was brand new, an intensity you had never achieved before.

And you knew you wouldn’t be the same after this.

“Yes, I really do.” You said.

He smiled, while appearing just as serious as he always did. He kissed you softly and you immediately responded, parting your lips and showing him more passion.

A moan was passed from your mouth to his as you felt him coming deeper again. One of your hands went to the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair. Your body was burning for him as you tried to prepare yourself for more.

His tip gently spread you further and you sucked on his top lip in response. More needy little sounds built up in your throat as your pussy adjusted to him.

With his lips still touching yours, he spoke. “You feel so good and you’re doing really well for me.”

You were continuously clenching and relaxing for him, your body’s only priority was to accommodate him. His kisses moved down to your throat again. Your mouth stayed open, trying to reclaim some air for your lungs.

He slid an arm beneath your body, lifting you from the bed. Locked in his embrace, you felt how he started to move, no longer just filling you. Between your sensitive walls, he rocked his dick, hitting new spots, all of them so receptive.

You swore under your breath as you marvelled at how perfect this motion felt. It was accelerating everything, while still giving you moments to slightly recover.

Your fingers clenched around the strands of his hair when he got a little faster. He moved with less hesitation, showing you more of what he could do with this determined rhythm. Your system pumped a gooey-kind of warmth through your body, the pleasure affecting so much of you.

He whined against your skin as he powered deeper. Your body jerked up into his as you were surprised by a new level of intensity.

“Uh, Ethan…” The syllables came out as strangled noises - nothing like how you were used to hearing your own voice.

“Are you gonna come for me again?” He asked and you felt his firm hand caressing the side of your face.

Opening your eyes to find him staring at you made your heart do a somersault and it felt like your knees turned to jelly. But you felt so safe, he didn’t need to say it.

“I want to.” You said and you turned your head, repositioning your mouth so that you could lick his thumb. “I really want to. But I want you to come, so badly.” You wrapped your lips around his thumb, giving it a brief suck. “Please, I want it. I want you to come.”

He gasped and you saw a new look in his eyes as you sucked more. Had he started to pump into you harder, or were you just getting more sensitive to his movements?

“Yeah, I- fuck, I will, baby. I’ll tell you when I’m getting close.” He said.

You kept his thumb in your mouth. You did your best to hold your eyes open, wanting to see the reactions dawning on his face. His responses, even in their subtlety, made you feel like you were doing it right, something you hadn’t expected.

“It’s not hurting?” He asked.

“Fuck no.” You said as quickly as you could.

He showed you a relieved smile, still working his hips into yours. His thumb left your mouth as he moved his hand lower, grabbing your hip.

“Baby…” He cooed. “Can you follow my lead?”

“Mm, uh-huh.” You said, knowing he would make sure this was something you could handle.

“Good. Move with me.” He said, and with a pull on your hip, he got you to rock up. “Mmn, yep, keep moving just like that.” You repeated the motion, feeling less uncoordinated than before. Then he was matching his movements to yours, adopting a different pace. “That's good. Yes, that's good. Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” You said, finding you could slip into a momentum without too much difficulty. To help brace yourself, you laid your hands against his sculpted chest. “I really fucking like it, Ethan.”

He held an arm under your body, supporting you away from the mattress and guiding more of you into the tempo. You were proud when you could consistently match him, your inexperience wasn’t leaving you behind.

The way your bodies matched felt Heavenly. The synergy was more than you had anticipated, feeding into the desire that burnt in your gut. You thought that every place where your skin met his would be marked with this lust for hours afterwards.

“This tight pussy was worth the wait.” He said.

He moved you into rocking quicker and you could pick up this tempo, feeling confident that this motion was something maintainable. It heightened the pleasure, your heart going faster because your widespread tingles were gaining power. You felt the excitement everywhere, your body becoming primed for the release.

With every movement creating more thrilling sensations, you started to go quicker, wanting to lessen the time spent between those rewarding peaks. You rutted yourself into him at your new, energetic tempo.

When he began matching you, he glided in deeper and made contact with your g-spot. Fireworks filled up your mind and your lungs froze around the current breath. Before he rocked back, you thought you could lose yourself entirely.

His next pound concluded at your sweet spot as well, then the next and you were soon consistently seeing fireworks. Keeping quiet was no longer an option, not while your composure was being turned into shreds. You wordlessly sobbed, getting louder than the sounds of your bodies collisions.

“Don’t stop, please.” You begged before he could have the chance to pause and check in with you. “Please don’t stop, please, please, baby please. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

He didn’t falter, not missing a single jolt. You weren’t able to keep your eyes constantly open. But when you did gain a glance at him, you saw the expression on his handsome face, it was full of concentration and looked similar to clips you had seen of him drumming an especially intense part of one of his songs. It didn’t matter when you looked, he was always watching you.

“I know you’re getting close.” He said between little grunts of effort. “I can see that you’re fucking blissed out, it’s so gorgeous. So, so fucking gorgeous and sexy…”

The pressure was so intense that it felt like it could split you in half. But that wasn’t enough to make you stop. You remained invested in this rewarding momentum.

“Come for me.” He coached in a strained whisper. “You’re right there, I know you are. Come for me like the good girl you are.” It started to sound like a chant and you were shuddering wildly against him. “Come, cuh-um…”

Something so deep inside of you burst, a significant rupture and you instantly let everything go. You threw your head back and cried out in triumph. You lost yourself entirely, feeling the most powerful afterglow of your life.

He whimpered and groaned, writhing against your overworked body. But it was only for a moment longer. Then he pressed himself against you, swearing and saying your name as he completely dropped out of the rhythm.

“Cristo…” He sighed as he rocked his body weight back from you.

You were satisfied, but tender. Parts of your body ached and throbbed with slight hints of pain. The exertion had been incredible and you thought it could take longer than an hour for you to start feeling any energy returning.

He murmured your name and you looked to find him surveying you with a deeply concerned expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I promise I am. I’m just… you’ll have to forgive me for being a little out of it, my whole world was just rocked and I lost my virginity.” You said, caressing his cheek. “Did you see which way it went?”

This relaxed him enough to show you a slight smile. “No, I’m sorry. I think it’s gone for good.”

You lifted yourself up so you could kiss him. “I’m not sorry.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

🍑taglist: @bethanysnow - @gr8rainbowpunk - @idyllicbutterfly - @maneskindiva - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa - @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskintifoso - @thegeminisgirl - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee - @ursulalurks - @itsmaneskinbitch - @icarodamiano - @crwnnjules - @paralianeyes - @fand0mskullfa1ry - @chocolatepizzatyrant - @lizzylynch1 - @kammerstx - @myleftsock - @tellmesomething01 - @adoredamianos - @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic - @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis - @shinshans - @lonnybunnys - @lyricalliz - @chemical-killjoy [join here!]

#maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin smut #maneskin fic #ethan x y/n #ethan x reader #ethan torchio fic #maneskin x virgin y/n #losing your virginity to ethan fic

23 notes · View notes