#but it’s after the film so he doesn’t feature really

[thelightsandtheroses]

I think I just figured out some of my Frankie Morales fic and I’ve finally found its point of difference, if it truly has one, because I don’t think I’ve read anything with this specific scenario to date and if I can make it work, it could be fun and I get to play with so many plots and tropes I’ve wanted to explore.

And it was mostly thanks to @peterhollandkait and their ask last night - again, if you’ve got a notification every time I edited that post this morning, I am genuinely so sorry. But on the plus side it may have helped me figure out my plot so yay??

[rafey-baby]

hidden

Been thinking about outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes.

cw: outlaw!rafe is more obx accurate in this so he’s pretty mean and manipulative, mentions of murder and violence and other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end?

wc: 2k

he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part two part three

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the oak door at 3am, revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg. 

At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to. But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real. 

She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth. 

”Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine.

And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars.

And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times. 

”I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey. 

”I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?”

She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences.

He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again. 

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. ”When someone’s knocking on your door at 3am you don’t fucking open, alright?” 

She’s making it entirely too easy for him. 

The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.

However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room. 

She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears. 

”Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her. 

”Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him. 

”I’m sorry, I...I don’t— ” she’s paralyzed, unable to move. 

”You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment. 

”Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest. 

”Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her. 

”You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air. 

”No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip. 

”Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?” 

”I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment. 

”If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?”

She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration. 

He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore. 

He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet. 

”What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question. 

”Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes. 

”Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions. 

”So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore. 

”You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows.

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest. 

”So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more. 

”Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat. 

All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after. 

She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.

“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her. 

“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.

He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him. 

His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender.

“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face. 

”I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure. 

And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing. 

”You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.

”Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable. 

“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates.

“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens. 

“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.” 

“You don’t— know me.”

“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers. 

”If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed. 

“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel. 

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper. 

“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.

“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.

“See? Not hurting you, am I?” 

She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—” 

“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child. 

“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid. 

”Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form, pushing her back to stumble on her feet; setting the gun back on the coffee table with a clank.

[beenbaanbuun]

cock warming w/jongho

words - 🫣

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - cockwarming, dom!jongho, sub!reader, kind of non-sexual intimacy (cockwarming but not necessarily horny), a single spank, praise, guidance, it’s just very cute

you cant convince me that jongho doesn’t absolutely love cockwarming. like there’s just something about the intimacy of it that really gets him going. mix that with the casual dominance of it all - him pinning you down with a strong arm, spanking your thigh if you begin to grow restless, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear as you lay your chest against his in a dizzy haze - and he’s going practically insane.

it’s movie night, just you and him, and for some unknown reason he decided to use that feature of netflix that picks a random film for you

of course, after 4 or 5 tries, it lands on nothing good (because it never does) and the two of you decide to settle for whatever random film it decided on

it starts off with you two making fun of the poor editing and direction of the film, picking at all the plot holes until you were both giggling incessantly

that little game lasted a while, but it didn’t take long for it to become boring and the two of you were plunged into a comfortable silence once more

until, of course, a sex scene!

in the grand scheme of things, it had no relation to the film whatsoever and was quite frankly incredibly poorly made

like you don’t know who those moans were coming from, but they didn’t match up with the mouths of either of the actors

but just as you were about to make fun of it to jongho, you noticed a little something of his lap

well, more like a big something, and you couldn’t help but gasp

“this is making you hard?” you scrutinise, eyes narrowing as you pull them away from the tent in his pants to instead look at his face

you expected him to be embarrassed or ashamed, but he wore a stoic expression as he shushed you

again, you gasped and sat up from the position you were in, leant up against him

“first you get hard to the worst sex scene i’ve ever seen, then you shush me?” you scoffed, “just say you hate me, next time.”

you watched as he rolled his eyes, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to look at you

“i’ve been hard for the last 20 minutes,” he grumbled, “you just didn’t notice so i didn’t say anything.”

oh… that’s weird

it’s not like you’d been doing anything to try and make him hard, and it’s not like the film had even been remotely sexy in any way shape or form

like you’d understand if you were lay there in lingerie, but you were in what you described as your ‘grannie nightie’, curled up against him like you would be on any other night

you frowned

“well, why are you hard?” you asked

“am i not allowed to be?” he replied

it was a fair response, but you still wanted answers

“well there has to be a reason…” you mumbled

“i’m sorry, why don’t you just call the erection police?” his voice was dripping in sarcasm, “hello? 911? yeah, i was being cute around my boyfriend and now he’s hard. come arrest him please!”

at this point the film was just background noise as the two of you went back and forth bickering about his penis of all things…

“wait, your erection is because of me?” you cock your head to the side in confusion

again, your pyjamas were hardly the sexiest thing in the world, unless you’re an 80 year old man and this is the most thigh you’ve seen in years

but jongho wasn’t 80, and he saw your thighs on a daily basis

fuck, he saw a lot more than thigh on most days

“well who else would’ve caused it?” he glanced between you and the screen, “you can’t seriously believe this shit show made me hard?”

“oh,” you mumbled

“yeah, oh…” he rolled his eyes

and you thought that was it for a moment before his hands were on you and you were being tugged onto his lap like you were nothing more than a rag doll

you squeaked in surprise as his strong arms pinned you to his lap, erection digging into your thigh

you squirmed, but the look he gave you quickly stopped you in your tracks

“you want to know why i’m hard?” he mumbled into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips

he looked so innocent, and you would’ve believed it if it weren’t for the obvious

you nodded

“you’re just too cute, baby,” he chuckled deeply into your ear, the sound heading immediately south, slicking you up a little, “in your cute little nightie, making your cute little comments. sue me for being attracted to you…”

“but that’s not…” you trailed off, “i’m not being sexy, am i?”

“you don’t have to be, baby,” he cooed, “you don’t have to make yourself sexy for me to want you. i want you just as much now as i would any other day.”

“so you want to fuck me because i’m not sexy?”

he scoffed, “i want to be close to you, baby. it’s not the same.”

it sounded the same to you, but still you nodded as if you understood

“want me to take a seat?” you grounded down once and he groaned

his eyes rolled back into his head in pleasure, but just as you were about to do it again he stopped you

“not if you’re not going to be a good girl and sit still for me,” you barely registered the sound of the slap until the stinging sensation spread though your thigh a moment later, “i said i didn’t want to fuck you, and here you are grinding on my dick like you can’t understand basic instructions!”

you stilled at his comment, a frown forming on your face

now you really didn’t get it…

he seemed to notice your sudden change in demeanour and sighed

“i don’t want to fuck you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be inside of you,” he explained slowly, desperate to make you understand, “i just want you to be around me, sweetheart. no expectations, i just want to be close to you.”

oh…

you supposed that made a little sense

with a slightly less confused look, you nodded

you didn’t move though

you misunderstood him before, now you wanted him to guide you through it so you didn’t get it wrong again

luckily for you, jongho took more than a little pride in telling you what to do

it boosted his ego, and he couldn’t deny how sweet you looked when you followed his every instruction

so he gave you a sweet smile before setting his hands on your waist

“straddle me, baby.”

his hands never left your sides as you followed his directions

“good girl,” he praised, making you puff your chest out a little with pride, “now i need you to pull my bottoms down, hm?”

and you did it, because jongho was right - you were his good girl!

you reached your hands down and shuffled back a little to give his dick enough room to spring free

and when it did spring free, you couldn’t help but sit in awe of how pretty it was

you’d seen it before, but you were still shocked at how perfect it was every time you saw it

a decent size lengthwise, but thicker than most

a pretty pink tip that leaked pearlescent precum in little droplets

jongho chuckled

“you done staring, or do you want to take a picture?” your eyes widened and your gaze shot up to his face again.

he wore a wide smirk as you mumbled an apology

“it’s okay, sweetheart,” his thumbs rubbed circles over your sides, “now, can you slip your panties to the side for me? i want you to sit on me…”

and again, you did as he asked because you were good and you wanted to behave for him

so your fingers slid south and pushed the thin cotton to the side (ignoring the way you had to peel them away from your gooey wetness) and you shuffled forwards until your core was hovering above his cock

you slid down slowly, the stretch almost painful but not quite

it took a moment for you to bottom out, his tip snug against your cervix and your thighs resting against his own

the temptation to start bouncing was certainly there, but at the risk of no longer being his good girl, you decided not to

not that you could anyway, not when he brought his arms around you, pinning you to his chest and holding you there like it was just any regular cuddle on any regular day

like his dick wasn’t resting heavily inside of you

like you weren’t so close to disobeying and seeking out your own pleasure

a big hand came up to the back of your head to hold it against his shoulder, fingers lacing themselves in your hair and giving it gentle, rhythmic tugs like he always did when you needed to chill a little

his fingernails scratched against your scalp in a way that was so soothing, it seemed to turn your whole body to jelly

and suddenly, the horny tension that laced itself up within you dissipated like it was never there

well, it wasn’t completely gone - you still had your boyfriends dick in you, after all - but it was duller, more manageable

you moaned as you relaxed into his warmth that surrounded you from every angle possible, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle

“do you get it now, honey?” he whispered into your ear, “do you understand what i mean when i say i want you close?”

you just nod

“oh, you’re so precious, baby,” he gave you a particularly tight squeeze with his thick arms, “so good for me, hm? letting me hold you close like this. i expected it to take you longer to settle down, but you’re such a good girl, right? shouldn’t have doubted you, baby…”

his words made your mind cloud over as you sank into the praise that he spoon fed to you

you just lay there with your head on his shoulder, staring up at him like he was your entire universe, eating up every single word he said to you

“love you, bear,” you mumble into his neck

he chuckled

“love you too, honey.”

[chahnniesroom]

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[izurou]

STOP TELEPHONING ME FT. BLUE LOCK MEN

features: shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, and when someone calls you during sex.

contains: female reader. pro! blue lock charas. penetrative sex. oral sex. fingering. semi public for reo and bachira. a creampie from sae. brief filming in shidou’s. she and her pronouns used. you or him are on the phone in all of them so yeah !!

note: these are so long for hcs i am so sorry about that

SHIDOU RYUSEI

one of the sweetest things about ryusei, is that his camera roll is filled to the brim with you.

countless rows of what seems like every image of you ever—screenshots of your instagram stories, all those pictures you’ve sent with the message do i look ok attached, and of course—the dozens of photos he’s snapped of you himself.

sweet indeed—although, he’s still him, and so this habit of his isn’t all innocent admiration and good intentions. he has zero hesitation when it comes to filming you during sex—it’s a nasty side effect of his little obsession and, even nastier, he prefers leaving that type of media on your phone; sweet videos of him with his cock stuffed inside you.

so when he’s doing just that—using your device to record himself fucking you from behind, and the words can i help you suddenly leave his mouth—your heart nearly stops. did he really just? with a reluctant glance over your shoulder, you find him holding your phone up to his ear, grinning. he did.

“ryusei! what the fuck? who’s—” you attempt to scold him through an aggressive whisper, but get cut off by your own gasp when he pushes down on the side of your head—forcing your cheek flat against the mattress. he rolls his hips forwards with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but melt into the cotton sheets and moan when he does so—being effortlessly tamed by the thickness of his cock.

“oh? you sure you wanna talk to her? she’s a little busy right now,” he sneers into the receiver, grin tripling in both size and arrogance when he looks down and sees your face—scrunched up in pure ecstasy as you fist the fabric on either side of your head. yeah, busy being all fucking his.

nevertheless, he thinks it’d be rude of him to not transfer the call over—this person went through the effort of dialling your number, after all.

so he tucks your phone between his shoulder and his ear, and uses both hands to pull you upright—flush against his chest. with his left hand latching onto your throat, and his right now holding your phone a couple inches from your ear, he purrs, “it’s for you, babydoll. wanna say hi?”

there’s a beat of silence, and then you hear it, a voice seething with anger—one that belongs to none other than your ex boyfriend. shit.

you’re holding your breath now—hoping that if you can remain silent, he’ll give up on his attempt to reach you altogether. a decent plan—but not for someone who’s currently dating the world’s biggest instigator. “c’monnnn, at least tell him how good your boyfriend’s fuckin’ you.”

he hums in content as his left hand travels south—between your tits and eventually, onto your clit. he uses his middle finger to rub tight circles, and with his cock still pressing kisses to your sensitive spots, with his tongue dancing across your neck—a whine slips out from between your lips.

and your ex hangs up—spewing a few unsavoury comments about your boyfriend before doing so.

“awwww, we were just getting to the best part,” ryusei whines, but he doesn’t stay down for long. “get ready to cum for me baby, and don’t fuckin’ hold back. we’re gonna leave him a voicemail.”

MICHAEL KAISER

when it comes to you, michael is both equal parts selfish and selfless.

he’s great at sharing. everything from his clothing to his habits—routines he’s stuck with for years, changed, because he wants his luxe life to be something you can experience with him.

like tonight, for instance—where a past version of himself would have returned home from practice, and immediately gotten into a hot bath to loosen his sore muscles. present him is in fact relaxing in a hot bath after a rather shit practice, but present him also has a pretty girl to help him wind down.

and while your boyfriend has no problem sharing with you, hell would freeze over before he’d share you. you’re his, and though he seldom allows his possessive behaviour to control him—it seems to linger on his shoulders nonetheless, particularly after a bad day.

you’re doing your best to lift his spirits—bouncing on his cock, pressing needy kisses along his inked neck—when your phone starts buzzing against the tiled ledge surrounding the tub. he knows you’ve been expecting an important call, but he doesn’t want you to stop—he’s not going to let you stop. even so, he’d be a pretty bad boyfriend if he ignored the call altogether, so he’ll answer it himself—seeing as you’re preoccupied.

“hello?” his voice is smooth, nonchalant—a little too much so. you still your movements, watching expectantly as michael’s gaze shift to yours. he smiles before continuing, as if he’s softening the impending blow. “an interview? sure, let me pass you to her.”

his eyes darken ever so slightly as he holds your phone out, mouthing the words take it.

you obey your boyfriend’s command with a little too much confidence—bringing the device up to your ear and barely managing a hello of your own before michael has you cupping a hand over your mouth with a sharp thrust of his hips. he doesn’t stop there either—grabbing onto your waist tight, more or less holding you still as he begins fucking into you at a steady pace.

“uh, i-i’m,” your mind goes blank as the voice of your potential employer rings in your ears with a simple question—what does your availability look like? michael is eavesdropping of course, sucking feverishly at the delicate skin on your neck as he strains to hear the conversation.

“monday through friday my love, isn’t that right?” he purrs into your opposite ear—handing you the answer on a silver platter. he wants you to get at least one response out before he inevitably, but indirectly ends the call. maybe it’s his sour mood tainting his train of thought, but the future where you have a job—is one where you have less time for him, less time for this. he doesn’t want that. “because you’re all mine on the weekends, aren’t you? such a precious girl, letting me fuck you like this. i don’t know what i’d do without you, baby.”

the words drip from his mouth like honey, sweet and genuine. it’s times like these that prove how scary love is, because in the heat of the moment—you’re convinced that you don’t really want this job, that all you want is to be his.

the water sloshes against the walls of the bathtub as you crumble onto his shoulder with a whine—phone silent and blank as it sits uselessly in your hand. michael runs his palms up and down your back in an attempt to soothe the upset he just assisted in—cock jumping when you sit up and pout at him.

“you’ll definitely get the next one, my love. in the meantime, this can be your full time job,” he grins—smug, but not insincere in the slightest. “you’re already a perfect fit.”

MIKAGE REO

reo, prim and proper at first glance—the perfect textbook gentleman, is anything but.

he has the courteous mannerisms down to a tee, all charming smiles and soft touches as he opens the door to his luxurious car—holding out a hand to help you inside. once you’re seated, he’ll do an adorable little jog over to the driver’s side because—keeping a pretty girl waiting just isn’t right.

his chivalry ends there though, because a parking lot is the perfect place for you to suck him off, he thinks.

and oh, how absolutely perfect you are—leaned over the centre console with your tongue swirling around his tip. he can’t help but pant a little as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

but his euphoria is short lived, because the sound of your ringtone fills his vehicle almost as quickly as it kills the mood—bluetoothed and displaying a name on the dashboard’s touch screen. seishiro. reo figures he’s only calling you to ask about him, but it’s awfully late, and while he has no reason to distrust his best friend—he finds himself curious, wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

so, he taps his finger on the little green button.

“ynnn,” nagi’s voice emanates from the speakers—syllables drawn out and on the whinier side. you peer up at reo, and he’s looking down at you, eyes heavy with anticipation as he waits for a follow up. “are you with reo?”

your boyfriend visibly relaxes upon hearing that—and with his curiosity fed, he reaches forward to hang up, but—you swat his hand away.

“no, why? what’s up?” you hold eye contact with reo as you speak—ghosting your lips over his tip before licking up his shaft and taking him back into your mouth. you’re hoping that nagi will start to ramble, because if he does—reo will have to stay quiet, or at least attempt to.

and nagi happens to want an unreleased game, one that reo could pull a few strings and get his hands on if he wanted to—all things the voice on the other end is in the midst of explaining. he’s mere background noise though, because your attention is solely on reo and his cock.

you hold him near the base, using your hand to pump whatever your mouth can’t accommodate. reo shifts in his seat—biting down on the knuckle of his index finger as he goes one on one against the urge to buck up into your face, because that’d really conjure up a sinful sound.

and reo worries he might draw blood when you hum against him—sending vibrations throughout the length of his cock, and oh fuck, he’s so close. his brows knit together as he taps frantically on the screen—ending the call. he cums seconds later, head thrown back in pleasure as he groans and gasps through his orgasm.

“c’mere,” he breathes heavily—cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips onto yours for a messy kiss. “you wanna sit on it, sweetheart? we can head to the backseat.”

ITOSHI SAE

it might not seem like it, but there’s nowhere sae would rather be on his day off than here.

sitting on a small padded bench inside the private fitting room of a store, with you straddling his lap in a little floral mini dress. he figures that if he’s going to blow this much money on so little fabric, he might as well trial the garment’s true purpose—sex whenever and wherever he wants.

and now, as he watches you grind down onto the growing bulge in his pants—dress bunched up at your waist with one of the straps slipping off your shoulder, he can definitely see himself getting his money’s worth.

he’s just getting into it—running his hands over your ass and hips, tangling his fingers around the lace of your panties—when your phone starts to ring. at first, neither of you even acknowledge the sound, but it persists with a second call, and out of his peripherals—sae sees his manager’s name sitting the top of the screen. great, so much for your alone time.

“hello?” your voice is soft, and yet it still manages to catch your boyfriend off guard. during his brief sulk, you’ve not only answered the call, but put it on speaker as well. “is everything alright?”

the words i need to talk to sae come through, and you feel the breeze from his eye roll. you run your fingers through the hair at the back of sae’s head, pulling him a little closer as you continue to move your hips. he nuzzles into your neck soon after—eyes heavy as he watches your movements in the floor to ceiling mirror directly across from him.

“sorry, no can do. you know he needs the break,” you hum into the receiver, and you swear sae’s grip on you tightens. he loves it when you defend him like this—he thinks it’s hot.

so hot—he just can’t keep it in his pants anymore. he’s unbuttoning and unzipping—pushing fabric out of the way until his cock is springing free, and finally, he’s sinking into your cunt.

a breathy fuck falls from his lips as he leans his head back against the wall—staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity, which—in this dress, just might be true. his nails carve into your hips as he drags you along his shaft, and oh—it’s so easy for him to get carried away when you’re hugging him so tight.

“he’ll call you first—first thing in the morning.” you fumble over your words a little when the head of sae’s cock presses against a sensitive spot, but you get the response you wanted nonetheless—a that’s good thank you, and the call ends there.

a reward worthy performance, he thinks.

“oh god, sae,” you whine—and he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, recognizing the familiar knot unraveling just below his waist. his teeth sink into your shoulder, and he cums hard, breathing heavy against your skin as he watches the mirror’s reflection through hooded lids—staring intently as white starts to leak out of you, and down the side of his cock.

“careful, you’re gonna ruin the dress,” he mutters—knowing full well that the sticky mess is all him. “guess i have to buy it now, huh?”

BACHIRA MEGURU

meguru’s fatal flaw is his attention span, or rather—his lack thereof.

the dinner reservation was at seven—a table for four. you, him, and two representatives from a sports brand that’s interested in sponsoring him.

it’s a few minutes past the hour, and the other duo is evidently running a little late—no big deal, but your boyfriend thinks otherwise. he’s sitting with his chin in his palm, twirling a straw around his fingers, and crumbling under the weight of his boredom. unfortunately, you don’t think this is an establishment that’d have a colouring page and some crayons for him, but not to worry—he’s just found something else to entertain himself.

“meguru, behave,” you shoot him a glance as he scoots closer—hearing him mutter a yes ma’am, but still feeling his hand beneath your skirt a few seconds later. he brushes his middle finger over the thin fabric of your panties—gently rubbing over your clit before he begins tracing what you think are hearts onto your cunt.

your gaze floods with desire—a look that meguru knows well, and loves dearly. he’s getting excited now, tail wagging with delight, because he knows that you’ll let him continue—so long as he doesn’t make it obvious to anyone in the room.

this means that, when one of the representatives suddenly starts calling you, he technically doesn’t have to behave.

“hello?” you bring your phone up to your ear, and at the same time—meguru’s hand slips past the waistband of your panties. he sighs in content—slouching back in his seat and lolling his head to the side. you’d almost think he was the one being touched. “w-what? you can’t find it?”

ah, so you’re saying they’re lost—which loosely translates to you have more time to play. good.

using his index and ring finger to spread you open—he sinks his middle into your warm cunt, curling it upwards and moving his hand side to side a bit. meanwhile, the voice on the other line is begging for directions, and you’re struggling to give them.

you lean into meguru’s side and hold his wrist—not to stop his movements, but to limit them, at least until you manage to get off the phone. but your boyfriend—sweet as pie and smart when it’s convenient for him, presses a kiss to your temple, and decides that he’ll take care of it for you.

“look for the big arena tour billboard, we’re right below that. see you soon,” he leans in and hums happily into your phone, and the rep thanks him before hanging up. with time now running out, he brings all three of his fingers up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. “mmm, i don’t wanna stop, baby. wanna make you cum.”

“megs, that’s them!” you squeak—spotting two well dressed, important looking people scurrying past a window on the opposite side of the room. you claw at meguru’s wrist—but his fingers stay glued to your clit for as long as possible, and he ends up pulling away mere seconds before they round the corner.

he’s all innocent smiles and waves as the two approach the table—not so subtly licking up the side of his middle finger, which—wouldn’t be so awful if there were more than just drinks on your table. either way, it’s swept under the rug, and the four of you begin introducing yourselves while looking over the menu.

and your phone is on silent at this point, but it lights up with one new message from meguru.

bathroom in 5? <3 i know what i wanna eat ;)

[moonstruckme]

hi!! first of all, i am a frequent reader(???) of your blog because your writing is immaculate and you seem so sweet and fun to talk to you, thank you so much for all the work that you do

second of all, i really hope your request are indeed open so that i am not spamming you🫶 in case they are closed, i am so very sorry and freely ignore this

I was wondering if i could request a little reader x either james or if the spark comes to do poly! i will NEVER say no to that lmao, where the reader seemingly out of nowhere starts feeling down, voicing that she doesn't think she's a good person? because she thought of all the friendships and extremely close people that left her and she just feels hurts and confused?

need some hurt/comfort rn, i know i am a little mean, and probably not the nicest person out there, but thinking of all the failed friendships/folks that i loved so dearly makes me feel like perhaps i am not a good person and that thought plagues me a bit ng

either way, thank you so much in advance, i hope you are well, getting to take care of yourself and have a lovely rest of day, evening of whenever you are reading this!

Thanks for requesting honey, love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James is talking to you about the movie he wants to go see, and if you were a better girlfriend—if you were better, period—you’d be listening, chipping in occasionally but mostly just letting him talk with the same adoring attentiveness he always gives you. But instead, you’re still stuck in the pub you’d left a few minutes ago, watching the surprise play over Sirius’ features. The flash of something you suspect might have been hurt in his cool gray eyes before he covered it up with skillful quickness. 

“And whatever I say, I can’t seem to lure the boys to another sci fi film,” James goes on, “so I’m afraid you might be conscripted for that one.” 

“Okay.” 

“Really?” The disbelief in James’ voice brings you back to attention. “I thought you’d have more qualms after that last one.”

You did swear to James that he’d never be dragging you to another of his nerd movies again. But maybe this is your opportunity to turn over a new leaf. “You want to see it, right?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Then we’ll go.” 

The two of you walk under a streetlight, giving you a clear view of your boyfriend’s skeptical expression. “You’re really alright with it? We can go see that new rom com instead, if you want.” 

See, this is the problem with being around James. He’s so, so good. It makes you seem even worse in contrast. And he makes it impossible to be selfless, because he always has to be the most giving person in any situation. It makes you want to cry from both love and frustration. 

“Let’s just go to the one you want to see,” you say, and despite your best intentions the words come out with a slight edge. 

“Alright,” he says slowly. Now you can feel his eyes on you, your own gaze vaguely ahead as you keep pace alongside him on the sidewalk. You live in a more shadowy part of town, but the clouds obscuring the moon make the darkness complete. James’ voice is tentative. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You chew your bottom lip. “Do you think I upset Sirius earlier?”

“You mean that joke you made?” It doesn’t help your anxiety that he knows exactly what you mean. No chance it flew completely under everyone else’s radar, then. “No, he was fine.” 

“You don’t think he looked…I don’t know, shocked? Like his feelings were hurt?” 

James’ gaze burns into the side of your head, but you won’t look at him. “No, angel. I think your sense of humor can be a little…” he fumbles for the right word, and a worm of unease writhes in your gut “...brash, sometimes, but Sirius is made for that stuff. The last person you’re going to offend with that is him. He gets it.” 

You sigh and nod, doing your best to convince yourself he’s telling the truth. 

“Hey.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “What’s going on in that head of yours? I can hear you thinking.” 

“I just don’t really know if I’m a good person.” 

Your voice is quiet, but you know James hears you perfectly. His steps actually fumble for a second, like he might stop in his tracks. 

“Of course you are,” he says. “I mean—listen, of course I would lie to you even if you weren’t, though I guess we probably wouldn’t be together if I thought you were a bad person, but—anyway, you are. You are a good person.” 

You force a laugh, ignoring how your throat contracts around it. “Sorry. I know you’d lie to make me feel better, Jamie. You’re too nice.” 

“I would,” James acknowledges, following as you go up the front steps to your apartment and dig around in your bag for your key. “But I’m not right now.” He ducks his head as you twist your key in the lock, jockeying for a view of your face. “Sweetheart, why would you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble as you step inside. You set your keys down on the table by the door and knead at your chest, but it does nothing to relieve the hollow ache forming there. 

“Yeah you do,” James says softly, hot on your tail. “I know you, you don’t just say these things. Come on.” He takes your shoulders in his hands, trapping you, and you drop your gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. (You know how that goes. They make you feel all soft and melty and get you to talk and talk and talk.) “I can’t be fully honest with you if you’re not honest with me,” he says. 

“I just know—I know I can be really mean sometimes.” Your voice cracks on mean, and James tightens his grip on you, holding you together while you crumble. The pressure in your throat is hot and thick, but it feels so good to cry. Like your outsides finally match your insides. “I want to be better but I don’t know how.” 

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds like heartbreak. His hands slide from your shoulders, wrapping around your upper back and squeezing painfully. “Darling, you don’t need to be better. Or, not more than anyone else. You’re already a good person.”

You make a miserable choked sound, frustrated with him for only telling you what you want to hear and frustrated with yourself for not knowing better.

“You are,” he says, half desperate. “Know how I know?”

You take your face from his shoulder, eyeing guiltily the glossy wetness of your tears and snot on his jumper. James takes your face in a big hand, finally succeeding in angling it towards him. 

He’s giving you a little smile despite his own watery eyes and the deep crinkle between his brows. He takes your look as enough prompting to go on. 

“Because bad people don’t worry about if they’re good people, angel.” The words are emphatic, beseeching. Begging you to understand. “They don’t try to do the right thing. You being worried about Sirius is just proof that you care. Do you think a bad person would get themselves so worked up” —he thumbs at the wet skin underneath your eye, smiling thinly— “over whether they’re being too mean? That just doesn’t happen, love.” 

You swallow thickly, letting James press a solid kiss to your temple. He holds your face between his hands like you’re something special. Something worth having. 

“I wouldn’t be with someone who was always being actually mean to my friends,” he tells you, voice dropping into a lower register. You know he’s being sincere. James would never let anything happen to Sirius or Remus, certainly not by someone he’d brought into their orbit. “But we all know you don’t mean anything cruel by the things you say. It can be a little…” 

“Brash?” you supply, and James smiles. 

“Yeah,” he admits, “sometimes. Anyone who knows you doesn’t take it personally, though. You’re kind in your own way, it’s just not always what people are used to.” James tilts his head, assessing your expression and giving you full view of the earnestness in his in turn. “You’re a good person, sweetheart. And please don’t worry about being that kind of mean to Sirius, alright? He can take it.”

[super-cosmic-library]

staring at you staring at me

written for @steddie-week day 3: mutual pining

wc: 1085 I rating: G I tags: alpha steve harrington, omega eddie munson, courting, happy ending I [ao3]

“If you don’t stop staring at him, I’m going to tell Keith you’ve been slacking on the job.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve says, turning away from watching Eddie examine every single VHS in the horror section of Family Video.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Robin agrees. “Did you know he tried asking me out again?”

“What the fuck? What’s wrong with him?”

“I could give you a list. First off, he needs a better deodorant, his sense of humor is abysmal, he thinks that women can hold their periods in like pee, he doesn’t know what the Loch Ness Monster is, he . . .”

Steve glances back at Eddie as his best friend continues to prattle on about their manager’s flaws. Eddie’s examining the same copy of Friday the 13th he’d looked at the day before. Steve loves the way the omega’s face scrunches up as he reads the synopsis before putting it back on the shelf and moving on to the next film.

Eddie’s attention flickers over to them, catching the alpha’s eyes. Steve gives him a little finger wave, which has Eddie pulling a chuck of hair in front of his face to hide behind.

“Steve, are you even listening to me?”

“Uh, yeah,” he whips around to look back at her, trying to recall the last thing she’d said. “Keith calls mashed avocados guacamole.”

“It’s just avocado, salt, and lime juice, Steve! That’s not guacamole!”

“Yeah, no, totally.” His gaze wanders back to Eddie, who’s now examining Fright Night.

“Just court him already.”

It’s a discussion they’d had repeatedly over the past several months. Steve had come up with excuses to not court the omega every time, ranging from giving him time to heal from his demobat wounds to having to kill Vecna again to Steve just having a bad hair day.

“My hair can’t be a mess if I’m going to start courting someone. It’s my best feature.” Steve had said.

Now, though, after months of excuses, he doesn’t have the energy for anything less than the truth. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

Robin raises an eyebrow at that. “Really? You think that Eddie doesn’t want you?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not exactly the type of alpha a guy like Eddie would go for. I mean, you’ve heard his cafeteria rants. I represent everything Eddie hates in the world.”

“He hates secretly nerdy guys who fight monsters and mother pups that don’t belong to him?”

“Preps,” he gestures to his starched polo and jeans. “He hates preps and rich kids.”

“Well, you’re not exactly rich anymore.”

She’s right. His parents had cut him off back in June when they found out once again that he’d not been accepted into any of the colleges they’d wanted him to apply for. In the year since he had graduated, his parents had expected that he would use the free time to round out his character and develop more “real world” experience to make his college applications more appealing to admissions boards. Unfortunately for them, the colleges they’d demanded he apply to required better greats than the ones he’d eeked by with. So his dad decided to cut him loose. Now, he rents the Henderson’s basement from Claudia, happy to help out around the house and get more time to torment Dustin like a real brother would.

“Come on, Steve. He’s in here practically every day for hours at a time, browsing the same selection of movies and making eyes at you. I mean, have you ever even seen him rent a VHS?”

“That’s because I rent them for him with my employee discount.”

“Does he even watch them?”

“Yeah, we watch them in the trailer for our weekly movie nights. I’ve told you about them, Rob.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” she nods. “And how, exactly, do you two sit when you ‘watch’ these movies? Opposite ends of the couch? Separate seats entirely? Cause I’m willing to bet that not only do you cuddle during them, but Eddie initiates it.”

She’s right. But friends can cuddle without being romantically interested in each other. He and Robin cuddle sometimes. He and Tommy used to cuddle all the time before they drifted apart. Cuddling doesn’t mean Eddie’s interested in being courted by him.

He repeats the sentiment to her.

“I’m just saying, I think he’d be interested if you court him.”

“She’s right.”

Steve practically jumps out of his skin. He hadn’t heard Eddie approach the circulation counter. Embarrassment floods his cheeks. “Eddie, what–”

“You know I can hear everything you guys say, right? This place isn’t that big, and your voices are loud.”

Steve wants to shrivel up in a hole and die. He’s going to have to change his identity and move to a different state in order to escape his mortification. He’s going to have to–wait. Did he say . . .

“Did you say she was right?”

“Yeah. I feel like I’m going crazy with anticipation for when you start courting me,” Eddie easily admits. “I would have started courting you, but you seem like the kind of guy who’s traditional in that sense.”

Oh, god. He gets to court Eddie. Eddie wants him to court him. This revelation makes him want to sprint home to grab the gifts he’s been accumulating over the past few months and give them all to him at once.

Calm down, tiger. No need to rush it. Eddie deserves a proper courting ritual.

“So, when I ask to court you, you’re going to say yes?” His thoughts are in overdrive. He needs the confirmation before he gets ahead of himself with planning.

“Yes,” Eddie smiles.

Steve takes in a deep breath. “Eddie, sweetie, I’m going to need you to leave.”

The omega’s face falls. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m going to start freaking out in a really embarrassing way, and I don’t want you to see it. And,” he shoots him the signature Harrington smile. “I’ve got to start planning out our first date.”

Eddie pulls his hair in front of his face, swaying on the balls of his feet. “Will I still see you for our movie night tonight?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it. You still want Beetlejuice?”

Eddie nods.

“See you at eight, then.” He gives him a wink.

As soon as the shop door closes, Steve turns on Robin, eager to start talking through all his ideas until he comes up with the world’s best and most perfect first date.

The beta slumps against the counter. “Oh, god, what have I done?”

[hoshikarasu]

LOOKS BETTER ON YOU. — CHOSO X M!READER

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀featuring   :    choso with a male reader .

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀synopsis   :    trying the lipstick trend with choso ! — WC: 1.1k

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀notes   :    male reader . you/your pronouns . reader wears lipstick . choso briefly thinks about the idea of being marked by reader . not proofread . this is entirely self-indulgent .

“I’ve never seen you wear lipstick before.”

Granted, Choso can’t say he has ever seen you wear any type of makeup before. You didn’t particularly dabble with it aside from the occasional eyeliner, but even then, you didn’t see it as necessary to include in your routine.

It was a surprise to see you return after a trip to the store with a few tubes of lipstick in different shades of red and purple; the same colors that he answered with when you asked him for his favorite color before you left.

The tubes of lipstick sat innocently at your desk for a while before he finally caved into his curiosity and asked if there was a reason you bought them. It seemed as if you were waiting for that question, a light flickering in your eyes, as you explained to him how you saw this trend on Tiktok. (He would later go track down Yuji to ask him what a Tiktok was and listen attentively to his younger brother’s explanation.) 

You then mentioned that you wanted to try this trend out with him.

Now here you both are, finally having free time to spare from your busy schedules, and you wanted to film that Tiktok today. And Choso could never say no to you. Especially when you looked up at him with a hopeful, excited look. 

At his observation, you glanced up from the mirror you set up before you. The corners of your mouth curved into a smile. “There’s a first time for everything. Besides, don’t you think it’s coming out great?”

His eyes dropped back down to your mouth to examine them. There was something mesmerizing about the way you applied the lipstick. Despite your lack of experience with makeup, you could’ve fooled him with your precise movements.

You chose one of the red shades to apply on. The one that was a deep blood red and reminded you of his blood manipulation. 

It felt like an eternity of him staring at your lips being painted before he swallowed down the thoughts that crossed his mind briefly. “What.. should I be doing?”

Choso can’t help but feel a bit guilty for simply admiring you and doing nothing else. He glanced over to where you set up your phone for a moment before he turned back to you. 

“Nothing yet. I still have to do something, so you can just stand there looking pretty for me.” 

Your words brought a tint of pink to his cheeks as he struggled to think of a response. He soon settled with murmuring your name in a quiet, low voice. 

Turning his head away, he heard your muted giggles and felt his face grow even warmer.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before you’re suddenly right in front of him. You’re forced to stand on your tippy toes just to reach out and cup his face, guiding him to look into your warm gaze.

It’s then that he noticed how perfectly painted your lips were. You looked absolutely breathtaking. Any and every thought in his mind disappeared, far distracted by the sight of your lips coming closer to his face. 

Pleased at the prospect of a kiss, something he’ll never say no to, Choso leaned forwards.

Except right when he was about to capture your lips into a kiss, you tilted your head and pressed your lips against his cheeks. Your lips lingered against his skin for a moment before you finally leaned back and admired your work. 

A stain in the shape of your lips is left on his cheek.

He can vaguely see it from the mirror you had been using. He can’t pull his gaze away from his reflection. The mark kept him in a trance that his heart skipped a beat at the thought.

He really likes the thought of having marks adorning his skin if they’re left by you.

A part of him wants to ask you to leave behind more marks, to smear your carefully done lipstick across his skin. But luckily, you sense this desire within him. Or maybe it’s simply because that’s what the trend requires (Choso wouldn’t know, he didn’t ask for the details on what this trend was about).

Either way, Choso’s pleased to see the way you leaned forwards again and smudge your lipstick by pressing more kisses on his face.

A significant amount of the lipstick is wasted in planting perfect marks all over Choso’s face. By the time you’re satisfied, he looked a bit dazed, resembling a love struck teenager who just kissed his boyfriend for the first time.

He can hear you barely holding off your chuckles before you make a comment, “This looks better on you than me.” You shoot him a grin and walk over to your phone, motioning him over.

Without hesitation, Choso slides up in the space beside you. You gave him a quick rundown over what you want for him to do, which he took to heart seriously to not disappoint you, while you set up the timer on your phone.

Like you requested, he ensures that he’s off to the side enough that he doesn’t appear in the frame of your phone.

Your phone displays the countdown and the selected audio you chose starts to play. You began to apply the lipstick on your lower lip, which you had apparently wiped clean at some point without him noticing. 

The lipstick drags across your lower lip with bolder movements than your first attempts now that you have some experience under your belt. You soon ‘accidentally’ drag the lipstick down past your lip, leaving a smudge against your skin because of this mistake. 

Ah, his cue.

Reaching out to grip your chin, Choso watched how you craned your neck to look up at him, and used his thumb to gently wipe away the stain. 

The phone captured it all thanks to your subtle shifting of the phone to pan over to Choso. He looks as he always does, a bored expression resting on his face, but there’s no denying the fondness in his gaze. 

His attention is solely fixated on you, never sparing a glance at your phone, until the audio comes to a stop and your phone replays what was just filmed. He refuses to move from his spot though his grip is loose for you to move out of it when you turn towards your phone.

He watches over your shoulder as you do all that is necessary before posting the Tiktok and redirecting your attention back to him. 

You notice that he seems a bit lost in thought.

Before you could ask him what’s wrong, he speaks up.

“Can we use up the rest of your lipstick?”

And just like him, you can’t find it within yourself to tell him no.

[lovebugism]

Halloween is not really a big thing in my country so our october is as lame as every other month 😭

What do you think about sunshine/ditzy!reader planning her all on pink Halloween costume and eddie trying to convince her to go as something from one of his fav horror movies, or something silly like as a gremlin.

I love everything you write so I'll be happy with anything really

ily <333

ty angel! hope you like it! — eddie and his ditzy gf have trouble deciding on matching costumes (established relationship, fluff, ditzy!reader, can be read as a modern!au, 0.8k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“You don’t like my costume?” you wonder, all pouty in your pretty pink leotard and biker short duo. 

You’ve mastered the Barbie look — at least from what Eddie can remember. You’re only missing the neon rollerblades and matching yellow kneepads. You’re the prettiest, most vibrantly colored ball of sunshine he’s ever seen in his life.

“I love your costume, babe, don’t get me wrong…” Eddie assures as he rises from the couch, flashing you a rosy grin as he shakes his head. “But I am not wearing tights.”

Your pout deepens at his refusal to match with you. He was the Ken to your Barbie, after all — even if he wears so much black he basically absorbs all the light in any given room. “But why?” you ask in an unabashed whine.

“‘Cause if I knew I’d be wearing biker shorts for Halloween, I would’ve started doing squats three months ago.”

“But you’d make such a nice Ken!”

Eddie’s chocolate eyes narrow. “Do I look like Ken to you?”

“Well… No,” you answer, faltering only slightly when your gaze darts across the pale features of your wild-haired, metalhead boyfriend. “But it’s not like I look like Elvira!”

Eddie’s face twists like he’s tasted something sour, he’s that offended by your words.

His matching costume idea was the total opposite of your bright pink and sporty one. He wanted you to be a beautiful, shadowy thing hanging on his side in all black — the Mistress of the Dark to his Prince of Darkness. He still gets a little giddy thinking about it.

“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, playfully insulted and loud with it. His voice booms across the trailer as he takes you in his arms, curling his calloused fingers around your elbows. “You’re a total smoke show, babe— you’re killer. That’s, like, the only prerequisite.”

You roll your eyes at his compliment, though it has you blushing something fierce. 

Self-loathing was always hard with Eddie around ‘cause he thinks you’re the prettiest thing that’s ever walked the Earth. You’re not quite as certain as he is about it, but he says it with so much confidence that it’s hard to disagree.

“I do have a great set of boobs…” you lilt quietly, eyes flitted to the ceiling as you imagine yourself as the bombshell from Eddie’s favorite movie.

Your quoting of the film, along with your subtle reconsideration, has him grinning. “Yes, you do,” he affirms with a rapid and boyish nod. 

His gaze falls to your breasts, squeezed tight by the spandex fabric clinging to you like it was made to do it. His face heats with embarrassment when he notices he’s all but ogling at you. Then he realizes he doesn’t have to be embarrassed because you’re his girlfriend. It’s his job to ogle at you. It’s fucking metal.

“And an incredible pair of legs…”

“Exactly.”

“…But I still wanna be Barbie.”

Eddie’s grin never wavers. “Figured.”

“But you don’t have to be Ken if you don’t want!” you affirm quickly, eyes as wide as your glittering smile. “You can still be that weird, freaky singer guy that bit the head off that bat that one time.”

“Ozzy Osbourne,” he corrects.

“Yeah! We can just compromise. Easy peasy.”

Eddie deflates with a dramatic huff. His features twist in a puppy-like pout as he pulls you closer to him. “But you know I hate not getting my way,” he whines, mostly playful.

“I know,” you hum with a sympathetic smile. You gravitate towards him without thinking twice, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press your chest to his. “But it makes sense, right? I’ve always been like Barbie, and you always liked me anyway… Right?”

He hates that you’re even asking — like he hasn’t been head over heels for you and stumbling all over himself since the day he met you. “I mean, obviously.”

“And you’ve always been a freak! And I’m, like, fucking obsessed with you—” you ramble, as bright as sunshine, until you realize the weight of your words. You grow abruptly serious. “No offense.”

He keeps on beaming like a lovesick idiot. “None taken.”

“And Halloween’s a cool way to represent that, right? Like, yeah, we’re different and we’re hot. Screw couples’ costumes!”

Eddie grows so suddenly fond. His chest warms and sparkles with it, like his dark eyes that melt for you. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“I know,” you shrug, still smiling. “I usually am.”

He grins wide before pressing a kiss to your smart mouth. It’s an innocuous peck — a meshing of plush lips and a lingering there. A quiet smack fills the tiny trailer when he parts from you just to pout, “You know I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep people from staring at you, right?”

You giggle when his warm, calloused palms smooth over the outsides of your hips. “You do that anyway, Eds.”

“Well, yeah,” he responds, shrugging like it’s obvious. “‘Cause the view’s so nice.”

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 7)

Masterpost

A short one today, but I thought this section was funny (until it got sad again).

-----

It’s a quiet evening in the Lane-Kent household: Lois is trying to turn her notes into an article, Clark is going over Jon’s math homework, and Jon is watching a show Lois is only half-following.  It features lots of gunfire and explosions, though Lois’s— unfortunately extensive— experience with witnessing real violence makes the version on TV look cartoonish.  She suspects that is part of the show’s appeal.

Danny is paying about as much attention to the TV as Lois is, engrossed in something on his phone.  At least he’s in the same room as the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself away.

“Hey Lois?” Danny suddenly asks.

Lois looks up from her work.  “What’s up?”

“Did you know the internet thinks you’re Superman’s girlfriend?”

Lois knows that if she looks at Clark, he’ll be turning red, the way he always does whenever this particular subject comes up.  Lois herself is barely holding back a laugh.  Jon’s wrinkling his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his parents.

“Well, I am,” she says, barely keeping herself composed.

“No, I mean—” Danny begins.

“You mean people say that I’m dating Superman and married to Clark?”  Lois glances at Clark, who is now hiding his face in his hands.  “Someone forgot to check for cameras after rescuing me a few years back, and we got caught kissing on film.  It was let people think Superman is a homewrecker or let them think I’m in a polyamorous relationship with my husband and his alter ego.”  

“That’s… really weird.”  Danny is giving her the kind of judgmental look only teenagers can give.  

Lois does laugh at that.  “It is, a bit.  But it helps protect Clark’s secret identity, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Clark finally says.  “There were other ways to handle that situation; she just thinks this is funny.”

“Even your parents think it’s funny,” Lois says.  Clark just sighs, faux-aggrieved.  

“It’s not even the weirdest thing on the internet about Superman,” Danny says.  “It’s just the weirdest thing everyone agrees is true.”

“Please do not tell me what else you’ve found,” Clark says.  

“You can tell me,” Lois says.  “We can just make Clark leave for a bit.”  Reading conspiracy theories about Superman is her guilty pleasure, though if anyone asks, she does it to keep tabs on anyone who might have a viable way of hurting him.  

Danny just laughs, and something in Lois’s chest seizes up.  Is this the first time she’s heard him laugh since he came back?  She thinks it might be.

She doesn’t want to call attention to it; like as not, that would just make him pull away again.  Instead she says, “Superman doesn’t even get the best conspiracy theories.  Those are all Batman.”  That’s because Bruce purposefully cultivates them, of course, but that’s not important.

“Which one is he, again?” Danny asks.  

It’s not that Lois ever forgets that Danny has spent most of his life in another dimension.  But little offhand comments like that… they really drive it home.  There are plenty of superheroes, even Justice League members, that most of the general public has never heard of— but Batman is not one of them.

She's saved from answering by Clark.

"You'll meet him eventually," Clark says.  "He's a good friend of mine.  And Jon and Kon are close to his two youngest sons, Robin and Red Robin."

Danny nods thoughtfully.  "Right.  I think Red Robin's in the group chat Kon added me to."

Lois reminds herself to thank Kon next time she sees him.  He and Danny seem to have connected, and Kon seems to have made it his personal mission to keep Danny from slipping too far into one of his funks again.

"Speaking of Kon," Clark begins.  "Ma and Pa want to know when we'll be able to make it to Smallville to visit."

They've been trying not to overwhelm Danny by introducing him to too many new people at once, but maybe that was the wrong choice.  Maybe they should be pushing him to get out more, to connect with this dimension.  Besides, Kon spends most of his time in Smallville, and they already know that he and Danny get along.

Lois re-evaluates the article she’s been working on.  Perry would probably appreciate it sooner rather than later, but if she turns in a smaller article this week, she can probably swing a weekend off.  If not, she can always work on it from Kansas.

“This weekend should work,” Lois says.  “If that’s alright with you, Danny.”

Danny looks a little surprised to be consulted.  “I— yeah, that works.  Not like I have anywhere else to be.”  He laughs a little, but the joke falls flat, and Lois resolves to double down on helping Danny connect with more people here in this dimension.

[ellieslaces]

KISSING LESSONS.

featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader

synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)

notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.

word count: 3.13k

chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)

now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus

Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.

It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.

It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.

PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.

It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.

Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.

You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.

You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel’s boyfriend and a complete moron.

Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.

You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.

As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.

“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.

Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.

You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.

“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.

Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.

“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.

Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.

“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.

“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.

“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.

Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.

Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.

You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?

Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.

A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.

She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”

Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.

“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.

“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.

“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.

“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.

Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.

The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.

So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.

It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.

To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.

“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”

Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.

Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.

It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.

“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.

“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.

It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”

Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”

“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?

“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.

“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.

You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.

Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.

“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.

“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.

A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.

“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.

The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.

So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.

This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.

“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.

It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.

“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.

“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.

You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.

Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”

You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”

“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.

You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.

2023 ©️ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

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[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader but she’s not really there, masturbation, reigen keeps videos, oral sex ( m!receiving ), probably poorly written reigen, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ big big special thankies to @arabaka for not only introducing me to reigen but also giving me advice about his characterization and helping me get to know him better 🥺. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

Reigen is so sloppy when he jacks off. that’s why he typically prefers to lie in bed, moaning your name, that way he can ruin his own sheets, or roll over on to his stomach to hump against the mattress. his sweat and cum mingle on the bedding, cheeks red and glistening, eyes closed as he digs his fingers into his pillow, rutting, needy. he imagines you under him, legs spread and eyes glassy like they get when he pounds you hard. he likes to make you go dumb on his cock, and remember how you drooled and begged him, later when he’s alone.

but every now and then, the urge for you rears its head while he’s at the office.

and that’s what the videos are for.

so that he might find himself sprawled in his chair, legs spread wide and cock jabbing upwards, pink-tipped and throbbing, coated in the spit in his palm as he strokes himself silly with one hand, and grips his phone tightly in the other. the audio is cranked, and the way your visage slurps as you worship his tip on the video before him is forcing his breathing to catch in his throat. you were always so damn eager to suck him off, and he was way more than willing to let you.

“So cute… how are you s-so cute when you—” he grunts to himself, and when your tongue glides against his slit on the screen, Reigen mimics, pressing his thumb against the sensitive hole and rubbing back and forth, just the way you would. he groans in the back of his throat, and his eyes threaten to close, but he wants to watch so bad, they simply flutter instead, lids heavy. after a moment of teasing himself, he watches your mouth open wide, and he elicits a soft, happy whimper when the squishy head slips in. he can remember exactly how the inside of your mouth feels, and he attempts to imitate the sensation by enveloping his cock tip with his palm, tightening his grip around the frenulum to simulate the tight, stretch of your plushy lips. your eyes, though zeroed in on the camera as he films you, go hazy when his dick fills your mouth, and Reigen’s hips push forward, fucking his own hand and the air, simultaneously, breathing ragged. he loves that look on your face— when your senses are overwhelmed, and all you can see, smell, and taste is his sex; it’s as if the moment his cock slips in, your brain turns off.

when your head starts to bob, up and down, Reigen has to shift, changing the pace and angle of his stroking, smearing spit and the beading precum over his cock as he pumps furiously to keep up with the rhythm you’d set a few nights prior. the cocktail dribbles along the edges of his fly, soaking a ring of wetness against his gray pants, but he doesn’t care, he’s too caught up in it. jaw hanging slack, cheeks cherry red, his breathing comes and goes in furious, strangled puffs in between gargling, desperate moaning.

“Pretty, little cocksucker… my pretty girl, so f—fucking talented with that, hng, soft mouth a’yours…” perspiration runs in racing stripes down his temple, over his cheeks, and streams on his throat as a prominent vein bulges there, a telltale sign that he was inching closer to release. Reigen can hear his own voice over the recording, begging you to suck it, pleading for you to suck his cock like it’s the only thing in the world that matters to you, and he can tell by the dizzy look on your face, that it is.

“P-please, oh— shit, ‘s good… you make me feel so, so good!” Reigen hunches forward, closer to the screen as his strokes become erratic, squeezing his tip and then bucking his hips to slide through his slick palm, fucking it like it was your throat. seeing the digital clone of his dick disappear, only to watch your cheeks bulge and your eyes roll back in your head, he’s teetering on the edge of a big orgasm, a needy one, but when you start to cluck with each thrust, Reigen knows that must’ve been about the time he was battering your gag reflex, and he lost it.

furiously pistoning his fist up and down his own length, he forgets where he’s at. he forgets himself, and becomes a grunting, panting, whimpering mess of taut muscles and rutting. “That’s it, y-yes, yes, yes!”

falling back against his office chair, his knees spread, the muscles in his arm burns, but he can’t stop, he can’t ease up off this brutal rhythm until the first spurts of his release erupt from his swollen, twitching cock. a flustered gasp, one in the form of your name, escapes his lips, and so does a small trickle of drool, as the first streamers land against his phone screen, dripping on and obscuring your euphoric expression. Reigen gargles a contented moan, his fist running up to wring at his tip, extracting more of his load in a milking fashion, until it splatters on his abdomen, staining his suit and dampening the white shirt underneath. what he had left to siphon out of his tender, softening cock dribbled out from his slit and oozed down along his shaft while he panted like a wild animal, globbing in the patch of golden hair at his base.

the video ends, and he’s too worn out to do much but allow his phone to clatter against his desk, twitching and bathing in afterglow. his office smells of his sweat and sex, and he closes his eyes, taking a ragged, satiated breath.

he still can’t believe the power you hold over him, how you make him a depraved, base fool. just the thought of you is enough to have his cock twitching again, and he groans, running the pad of his thumb over the throbbing vein nearest the base. “Already?” he asked aloud, incredulous at just how willing his body was to spring back and demand your attention. he would have to rub at least one more out before he could focus long enough to get through the rest of his work day.

but he would still be desperate enough that you would get the fuck of your life when he got home.

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 4

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~1.1k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, tension!!, occasional alcohol consumption, office crushes, office romance, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading!! This part features Dino and Shua 😊, MC is crushing hard!! How does Jeonghan feel?? We’ll see! Remember this is as slow of a slow burn as you can get! But I will have these two touch soon don’t worry. Also yes, there is the corny character-forgot-their-own-birthday trope in this part, sorry! Enjoy!!

Taglist:  @yeoberryx, @crownprincehoeshi (ask me if you want to join my taglist! 😊)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You practically ran to the parking lot from the equipment storage closet, touching up your makeup faster than you ever had in your life in the elevator before meeting Jeonghan, Joshua, and Dino outside the building.

“Nuna!” Dino called out in an excited voice. You and Dino had gotten along almost immediately. He was very sweet. He was the maknae, after all, so you couldn’t help but feel endeared to him. You were often tasked with helping him out with Lives, and he sometimes asked you to shoot his dance challenges.

“Dino-mite!” This was your nickname for him after you’d made the awkward pun trying to hype him up while you were filming one of his challenges, and the two of you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Wah, I’m so curious to talk to you outside of work!” Dino was visibly excited, jogging to meet you halfway while Jeonghan and Joshua hung back. He’s so cute, you thought. Honestly you were relieved that someone as outgoing as Dino was coming with you. You felt like it cut the tension you felt around Jeonghan in half. You were also relieved that Joshua was joining you. You still hadn’t quite gotten to know him. But you spoke in English together sometimes, which felt nice. He was quite softspoken, really. But he could help you out with Korean, too, if needed.

“I’m happy you’re coming too, Y/N,” Joshua said to you, already speaking in English. “Jeonghan told me and I was really surprised, to be honest.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t gone out with you all sooner,” you said in English.

“Wait, speak Korean!” Dino whined jokingly.

“You should practice English.” Joshua said.

“Oh, come on,” Dino said, “we’re supposed to have fun! I want to talk freely with Y/N! Nuna your Korean is really good!” You laughed.

“Joshua, Dino, sit in the back,” Jeonghan said, as the four of you reached the car. “Y/N is sitting up front.”

“I didn’t hear her call it,” Dino said.

“She doesn’t have to; this is a special treat for her first time going out drinking with us.” Jeonghan looked at you, and you felt your throat tighten and your heart start pounding harder. A treat!? Am I that obvious to him?

“It’s okay, I can sit in the back!” you said almost too hastily. I thought we were getting dinner, you thought. We’re going to drink? The two other times you’d gone out drinking with people in Seoul had been rough. You were a lightweight to begin with and could not keep up with your coworkers. You ended up staying out all night and coming in to work hungover, which you’d never done before in your life.

“Nope, too late, you’re sitting in the front.” Jeonghan said.

“Fine,” Dino said, “but only because it’s nuna and we get to relax together.” The three of you laughed at his sudden sincerity, and you climbed into the passenger seat, Jeonghan sitting right next to you.

He looks good behind the wheel. You couldn’t help thinking. God, even him driving excited you. You had to be careful drinking around him.

“Nuna pass me the aux,” Dino said, queuing up music.

The four of you spent the car ride chatting, laughing at Dino’s random questions and rambling jokes. Jeonghan chided you for being too nice and laughing every time. He told you that if you laugh at his jokes too much he’ll think that he can tell them all the time. Joshua chuckled pleasantly in the back... You almost felt comfortable, until you’d catch a periodic glimpse of Jeonghan looking at you out of the corner of your eye. At a red light, as he cruised down a long road, as he pulled into the quiet parking lot of the small, out-of-the-way bar...

He's probably not actually looking this much, you thought. But you felt flustered.

“Ah, this place,” Joshua said.

“You’ve already been?” you asked.

“One time. They have private rooms, so it’s not too crazy.”

“Whoa, cool,” Dino said, admiring the clean-cut but secluded vibe of the place.

The parking lot was practically empty. You were relieved to hear that the place was quite private. You did not want to deal with any rumors. It was pretty normal for staff to spend time with the members like this, but still. You were an easy person to recognize here, and were never sure what could end up jeopardizing your job or your image. The celebrity culture aside, you were kind of self-conscious in public still. Everyone was perfectly nice! You were just self-conscious by nature. Usually people warmed up to you once you spoke with them— knowing that you spoke Korean put most people at ease. But you still felt like you might be doing something you shouldn’t without realizing it sometimes.

Did he pick this place on purpose? You wondered, watching Jeonghan walk through the front door to the bar. You knew that you were probably being presumptuous, but you wondered.

The hostess led the four of you to a room toward the back, partitioned off by a beautiful, floral-patterned curtain. The lighting was quite low, giving the room kind of a sexy atmosphere.

“Whoaaaa...” Dino stared around in wonder. “This place is so nice!”

“We’re celebrating,” Jeonghan said, swiftly taking the seat beside you. Your eyes widened involuntarily. You tried to breathe as you fumbled with one of the menus. 

“Celebrating what?” Joshua asked.

“Y/N’s birthday,” Jeonghan said. Your head snapped up to look at him.

Oh my God, you thought, reaching for your phone...

I forgot my own birthday.

“What!?” Dino practically yelled.

“Wait, what!” Joshua added.

You were frozen, looking at your phone screen. Never in your life did you imagine that you would be so preoccupied you would forget your own birthday. You just kept gaping at the date on your screen, but you could feel the familiar sensation of a certain pair of eyes trained right on you.

You turned, still astonished toward Jeonghan.

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

“You told me!”

“What?” You said, still stunned.

“Never mind, Nuna,” Jeonghan laughed lightly at you, “order whatever you want.”

“Ooo, Yoon Jeonghan that was smooth,” Joshua teased.

“It’s polite to offer to pay on someone’s birthday,” Jeonghan said, his hair cascading forward as he glanced down at the menu, obscuring his face from your view. You were still staring at him, your heart pounding so loud that you were sure he could hear it. We’re sitting so close, you noticed.

“Whoa, hyung,” Dino said, “that was a cool thing to say.”

“I’m not paying for you just so you know,” Jeonghan said.

“Not cool,” Dino replied, making Joshua laugh.

“...Thank you,” you said softly. Your voice came out weaker than you wanted it to, but hopefully it was loud enough for Jeonghan to hear.

He didn’t immediately react, so you were about to repeat yourself, but he turned just his head, leaning over the menu, to face you—his face was so close you could see his individual eyelashes.

“Nuna,” he said, smiling in his usual plotting way, “let’s get to know each other before we go to Paris.”

[stephstars08]

Drunk Mishap

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Minor Adult Language, Trust Issues, Cheating Mentioned, Alcohol, Drunk!Reader, Ethan Helps Reader Change Into Different Clothes, Some Sexual References, Anxiety, Reader Has Panic Attack, Insecurities, And Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N has feelings for Ethan but she’s too scared to tell him how she feels due to her past relationships. However, one drunken night changes that.

Word Count: 1,717

Author’s Note: Sorry it took me so long to post this. I just hadn’t gotten the energy to type this up. Also something always comes up that just takes up all my energy or attention. Sorry this is a little chaotic, I was rushing with this one so trust me it’s not perfect but at least I got something posted!

Three months ago Y/N met a boy named Ethan Landry. Y/N goes to Blackmore University in New York City. Her major is film since she wants to be a director. That’s how Y/N met Ethan’s roommate sister named Mindy since they share many classes together. Y/N really connected with Mindy so that’s how she got into the friend group that of course featured Ethan but also featured Mindy’s twin brother Chad, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Tara who has been best friends with Chad and Mindy ever since they were kids. Once in a while Tara and her older sister’s roommate named Quinn would hang out with the group, too.

Y/N fit in perfectly with the friend group but right when she laid eyes on Ethan something just struck her. When her eyes met his brown eyes she just felt something shoot through her body and the feeling was something she had never felt before. As time went on the more Y/N was around Ethan the more she felt those butterflies fly around in her stomach. Y/N knew that she was growing feelings for Ethan because all he had to do is look at her and her heart rate would speed up. Y/N feels like Ethan feels the same way about her since he flirts with her but due to Y/N’a insecurities and trust issues she’s too scared to tell Ethan how she feels.

Y/N’s last two relationships ended with her getting her heartbroken due to her former boyfriend’s cheating on her with someone else. Even though Y/N knows that Ethan is nothing like her two time cheating exes, that tiny bit of doubt just over powers her positive thoughts. Mindy, Tara, and Anika know about Y/N’s feelings for Ethan but she just denies it and brushes them off. They don’t know about Y/N’s trust issues since she doesn’t talk about her past relationships since they just bring up bad memories. When she thinks about the past it makes her feel all that heartbreak all over again.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was a Friday night so of course that meant Y/N is at a college party with the friend group. Y/N was so happy to have a night out since she had been so stressed out due to her classes. Right when Y/N walked through the door of the frat house she immediately started taking shots. Y/N was already drunk after just being at the party for an hour. Ethan didn’t even know that Y/N was completely wasted till Tara came and got him and showed him her. Tara, Mindy, and Anika had been trying to convince Y/N to let them take her back to her dorm but she just brushed them off. That’s why Tara got Ethan since the girls are hoping that Y/N will listen to Ethan and let him take her back to her dorm. Ethan made his way over to Y/N.

“Y/N, I think it’s time for you to call it a night.” Ethan told her. “But I’m just getting started.” Y/N told him with annoyance in her voice. No one has seen Y/N get this drunk before. She’s gotten drunk before at parties like this but at least she was still aware of her surroundings. Y/N went to walk past Ethan but she tripped over her own foot. Ethan quickly grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall face first onto the hard wood floor. “Y/N, you can’t even walk.” Ethan told her. “I’m fine.” Y/N told him. “No, you’re not fucking fine!” Ethan told her in a stern tone putting his foot down. “You need to go lay down so please let me take you back to your dorm.” Ethan added. Y/N just stared at him since half of her wants to stay and the other half says she needs to go back to her dorm. “I don’t want something bad to happen to you.” Ethan told her with concern in his voice. Once Y/N noticed the worry look in Ethan’s brown eyes she knew he was right so she gave him a nod telling him he can walk her back to dorm.

Ethan let the girls know that he’s going to take Y/N back to her dorm and told them to let Chad know what he’s going to do just in case he comes looking for him. Ethan walked Y/N out of the noisy frat house. As they walked together to her single dorm room Ethan had one of his arms wrapped around her waist so that she doesn’t lose her balance or trip over her feet or something else. Even drunk Y/N is still feeling the butterflies in her stomach go crazy by Ethan’s arm around her waist.

They walked inside the building Y/N’s dorm is in and walked down the hallway to her door. Y/N has a dorm all to herself. Y/N pulled her keys out her pocket and tried to unlock her door. “Do you want my help?” Ethan asked which made her let out a groan of frustration. “Yes.” Y/N said handing him over the keys. Ethan let go of Y/N’s waist and unlocked the door. After he opened the door he let Y/N walk inside the dorm and then he followed her. Ethan put her keys down onto the dresser right next to the door and closed the door shut.

“Do you um need me to help you get changed into something more comfortable?” Ethan asked her with a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Oh, yeah could you. It probably be easier.” Y/N said with a sigh. She was already feeling sleepy. “Yeah, yeah um of course.” Ethan said trying to shake off all his nerves. He walked over to her dresser and pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants. When Ethan walked over to her bed and set the clothes down onto it he could feel his heart racing so he took a deep and calming breath. He was hoping Y/N didn’t notice his nervousness. Ethan helped Y/N get out of the clothes she was wearing and into the t-shirt and sweatpants. Every time Y/N felt Ethan’s hands brush against her bare skin she would get goosebumps along her skin.

After Y/N was fully changed Ethan helped her get tucked into her bed. He could see the tiredness in her eyes. “There all comfy.” Ethan said after he draped her blanket on top of her body. “Thank you for taking care of me.” Y/N told him. “It’s no problem Y/N.” Ethan told her with a reassuring smile. “You’re so sweet. No wonder I have feelings for you.” Y/N just blurted out in a tired voice. When she said that Ethan’s whole body went into shock.

Did he hear her right? He was at war with his thoughts. Was what she just said true. He knows she’s completely wasted and tired. When Ethan finally came up with something to say Y/N was already asleep.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

When Y/N woke up the next morning her head felt like it was hit by a baseball bat. She lazily got out of her bed and took some medicine to relieve the pain she felt in her head. Y/N has no memory of the night before. She just remembers showing up to the party and taking shots. After that it was all just a blur. She doesn’t even remember how she got back to her dorm. Y/N was about to call Mindy so she could recap the night there was a knock at the door. Y/N walked over to her door and opened it to see Ethan standing there. “Hey.” Ethan said in a soft tone with a small smile. “Hi, um what are you doing here?” Y/N said obviously surprised to see him. He usually calls or texts her before coming to her dorm. “I wanted to stop by and see how you are feeling.” Ethan told her. “Can I come in?” He asked her in a curious tone. “Oh, yeah sure.” Y/N said stepping to the side so he could walk in. Once Ethan was inside her dorm she shut the door.

“I’m guessing you were the one that took care of my stupid drunken ass.” Y/N said with a sight turning around to face him. Ethan gave her a nod. “Do you remember anything that happened last night?” Ethan asked her. “Last thing I remember is drinking my fifth shot of vodka.” Y/N answered him. “Ethan, did I do or say something last night?” Y/N asked sensing something going on. “After I got you into your bed you told me that you have feelings for me.” Ethan told her which made her heart drop to her stomach. “Oh my fucking gosh.” Y/N said with panic quickly taking over her body. She ran both of her hands through her hair. “Were you telling the truth or was it just the alcohol?” Ethan asked her. That question has been going through his head ever since last night. When he woke up this morning he knew he needed to know the answer to that question. “No, it wasn’t the alcohol.” Y/N answered knowing she can’t hide the truth no more.

“I know I should’ve told you but I let my stupid fucking trust issues get in the way of me telling you.” Y/N told him with frustration in her voice. Before Ethan could say anything she spoke again. “And I know you are not like my ex’s who are complete dicks but I just couldn’t get those fucking negative thoughts out my head.” Y/N told him. Ethan knew she was starting to have a panic attack so he walked closer to her and connected his lips with her lips. Y/N was surprised by the kiss but eventually returned the kiss. All of the panic she felt going through her body quickly melted away. They released from the long awaited kiss so they could catch their breaths.

“I have feelings for you, too.” Ethan confessed to her. “We can take it slow if you want to. I know it’s hard to get past infidelity.” Ethan told her as he put one of his hands onto her cheek which made her lean into his soft and comforting touch. She always feels comfort by his touch. “We can take it slow.” Y/N told him with a soft smile.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Do you think that the fab five have their own favourite ships between Yuu and the twst boys? I somehow get the feeling that Daisy doesn’t actually have a preference, she just loves the chaos and gossip.

So I'm going to turn the Fab Five into the Sensational Six because I feel Pluto would like to add his own two cents into this:

Mickey Mouse: he just wants a break, you know? He thought that the most stress he'd get from running the club would be Pete's constant sabotage, the odd villain being up to no good, and Professor Von Drake being so irritatingly pompous. Yuu is such a sweet girl and he loves her a lot (he also really wishes Walt could have met her) - he's the founder and chairmouse of the Yuu Protection Club - but ever since she joined the club, his life has gone to both be both better and worse - yes, everyone is so much more better behaved and their solidarity in all things Yuu related is a breath of fresh air but then there's *gestures to everything*! You'd think that being almost a century old could have prepared him for one teenaged girl but he's broken out the wheel more times in a fortnight than he has in the years that club has been running. Between the petty insults, underhanded tactics and full on shouting matches that leads to destruction (and some of it coming from the heroes no less) as well as Yuu's own obliviousness regarding the situation, his fur is going to go grey - not to mention, the constant texts he'd get from Felicity and Oswald over how they want to meet their new niece (as if they haven't already kidnapped her that one day). I feel like he'd prefer a heroic character but he doesn't have anything against the villains at NRC because he knows with absolute certainty that they all do genuinely care for her. But at the end of the day, he just wants Yuu to be happy so who ever she decides would be fine by him - as long as they never hurt her :)

Minnie Mouse: okay so I'm going to say Neige. Here me out: while she is neutral on the shipping war, and is the one to reel everything in when it gets too crazy, she does have some of fondness for the boy that reminds her of her favourite Disney character. Yeah, she and Mickey say they don't play favourites but there's no doubt that they definitely hold a soft spot for the very first Disney princess/character and the main character of the first animated feature film (especially when you consider the history behind that movie and what it meant for Disney/Walt). she wouldn't want to admit it but watching Yuu's lovelife is kind of her guilty pleasure

Pluto: Probably Jack - you know, canine solidarity and all that. To be fair, I think he'd be split between being protective of Yuu and being jealous that Yuu would spend less time with him (I HC that there was a time that he was jealous of Minnie when she and Mickey would go on dates because he thought he was Mickey's number one). Would probably be conspiring with Donald to keep everyone away from her.

Goofy: He just wants her to be happy :D. No seriously, I don't want to make the 'Goofy is dumb' statement because he isn't - he's just a bit oblivious sometimes and we love him for it - but he has absolutely no idea that the shipping war is happening. He's just so happy that Maxy has a new friend and that he could look after Yuu while she works at the club ♡

Donald Duck: Absolutely Not! I get the feeling that after Goofy, Donald is the most dad-like (I haven't seen either of the Ducktales shows so I can't comment on his behaviour there) - like, I remember how sweet he was to Max during that one episode where he wanted a car and how he stood up to Goofy to tell him to stop being so overprotective. Plus, I feel like he's really distrustful of villains so the NRC boys being who they are probably won't earn any pointers from the sailor duck who isn't afraid to use his navy training.

Daisy Duck: is just absolutely loving this - there's more gossip during one night at the club than there is in a week at her salon! Like you said, she doesn't have a preference. She'll just take a seat next to Kuzco and ooh and aah at all of the tea she gets from Tinkerbell.

Thanks for the ask ♡

[millennialsalkin]

hello have not been on here in literal years and reactivated simply to post my modern bridgerton hcs that came to me as i was falling asleep would not let me go until i wrote them down! enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

the entire family is still very much british upper class - they regularly interact with the royals and attend all the family event like wimbledon and ascot. they are regularly featured in the pages of the tabloids much to their annoyance. they also went to either oxford, cambridge, or st. andrew’s (franny)

- anthony - still who he is, took over edmund’s position in the family business. huge company either a law firm, business like real estate or holdings. he’s ceo and damn good at his job. still viscount but it is really in name only.

- kate - still very much who she is, i can see her either going very much a lawyer or the artist route but i like to think of her as leaving her art as a hobby that she does simply for the pleasure of it.

- benedict - artist can do either painting or photography but has become very famous for it, initially it was because of the family name but then people started seeing his talent for what it is. his photos have been featured a bunch of times in british vogue and he is one of their go to photographers.

- sophie - very much a primary school teacher because of her experience with araminta as a child she was determined to not let that happen for other children so she makes damn sure that while they are at school in her class they know some one is looking out for them.

- colin - travel writer. he works for some magazine and has his own column. the magazine is owned by like some big media company that has their own building.

- penelope - pen works for a different magazine that is owned by the same parent company as colin’s so they work in the same building when colin is not on assignment. she secretly still runs lady whistledown that is like deux moi and once she gets outed she starts her own mini media empire. still besties with eloise.

- daphne - she is very much the perfect socialite philanthropist that is so perfect she seems like she would be a bitch but truly is that nice. is still married to simon after they fake dated due to some media scandal. lives her absolute best WAG life and has the season down to a science.

- simon - is a huge sports star, think david beckham. technically was still the duke but officially gave up the title to piss off his father. this man was born to be girl dad.

- eloise - once she realized just how much privilege she has, she put her money where her mouth is and is constantly going to protests much to anthony’s annoyance (not because he doesn’t agree with the cause just because she is giving the family a bad name in the press, he actually super proud of her.) el went to school for a degree in women and gender studies and is super involved in academia when not getting arrested.

- phillip/a - a botany professor at the university where el is based out of. still has the kids from their previous relationship with marina but they were able to get a divorce because it is the 21st century and co parent the twins quite well. their gender honestly doesn’t matter for this, they love plants and eloise - the order of that is not important.

- francesca - autistic, it is important to me that you know that. she is a film composer, she loves getting to create the score for movies and that it doesn’t require that much human interaction.

- john - still unfortunately passes away, but prior to that was some kind of finance guy. was generally the nicest guy and loved fran with his entire heart.

- michael/michaela - hot. like the most beautiful human being you have ever laid eyes on. they work as an actor because it’s fun but secretly are insanely smart and like build computers for fun.

- gregory - anthony’s mini me and he wouldn’t have it any other way. he works for the family company and loves it. generally small bean like but is insanely tall, like taller than benedict much to everyone’s annoyance but no one more than hyacinth. he worships the ground lucy walks on but they only have three or four kids because they have access to birth control.

- lucy - a mini kate. also a lawyer who’s family firm got bought by kate’s and then started working under her where she eventually met greg when he was visiting his favorite sister kate for their monthly lunch date. has ocd.

- hyacinth - a child prodigy, started university at like 15 (which she never lets greg forget) works as a ta (or whatever the uk equivalent is) for agatha who is an old family friend through whom she meets gareth. her field is like archeology or some other super niche thing. (agatha does not have to teach, she does it because if she doesn’t how else will the new generation ever be taught the right way to do things)

- gareth - is so fucking chill but absolutely matches hyacinths freak. no one is quite sure what he does, he has explained it many times but no one truly knows even hyacinth.

- violet - was besties with princess diana (old money england) she unfortunately passes around the same time as edmund and she just loses it. luckily it is the modern days was able to get help but it took a little while. though once she is back on her feet she is a force to be reckoned with. she runs the family foundation which focuses on mental health and allergy awareness.

thank you for reading this! i will take no criticism at this time but welcome any addition thoughts!