#duet turned date

[dakusan]

First Song First Love

Seungmin x Reader | fluff, karaoke, soft rizz

🎤 synopsis: You didn’t expect anything life-changing when your friends dragged you to a chaotic karaoke night. But then Seungmin walked in—quiet, sharp-eyed, devastatingly charming—and sang a ballad that made the room go silent. An unexpected duet, a shared laugh, a late-night conversation… and suddenly, you’re not just singing for fun. You’re singing your way into something real. Maybe even love. A soft, slow-burning story about spark at first sight, stolen moments between fame and real life, and the boy who gave you a Puppy.M plushie—and a kiss you’ll never forget.

💌a/n: this was supposed to be a little karaoke fic and then seungmin opened his mouth and suddenly we’re kissing in a café with a plushie in our lap and a crush in our chest. i don’t know what to tell you. the man sang ONE (1) emotional ballad and everyone folded. including me. especially me. please imagine he sent you a voice memo at 1AM and now your pillow smells like delusion and vocal line supremacy. thanks for reading 💘 ps. reblog so that Puppy.M can haunt you

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the diver.

🎶Now Playing: "Polaroid Love" – Enhypen

You were already regretting the heels.

The strap was digging into your ankle as you trudged up the narrow stairs of the karaoke bar, the neon-pink sign above flickering with half-lit Korean characters. The muffled thrum of bass-heavy music vibrated through the walls, mixing with the chaotic chorus of drunken laughter and off-key singing. Somewhere inside, your friend group was already warming up for a night of questionable decisions and even worse vocals.

Your phone buzzed.

[Jisoo]: Room 5! We’re starting without you! Run!!

You huffed out a laugh, finally reaching the hallway lined with sliding doors and colored lights. Room 5’s door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of a big screen leaking into the hall. You could already hear Jisung screaming a ballad like his life depended on it.

Sliding the door open, you were hit by the familiar wave of heat, perfume, and fried snacks. The room was packed—your friends piled on couches, tangled in each other’s limbs and laughter, drinks in hand. Some waved when they noticed you, others too busy arguing over the next song.

Your best friend stood, practically bouncing.

“There you are! Took you long enough,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the room. “Okay, okay—before you sit, you have to meet someone.”

You barely had time to react before she stopped in front of a guy lounging in the corner of the couch, a half-empty drink in one hand and an amused look in his eyes. He was dressed in simple black—hoodie, jeans, rings glinting on his fingers. His hair was soft, a little messy, and he had this calm presence like the storm of energy around him didn’t touch him at all.

“This is Seungmin,” she said. “Jisung’s friend. He joined last minute.”

He looked up—and your breath caught for a second.

It was subtle, nothing dramatic. Just a glance. But it was like the moment his eyes met yours, the rest of the room dimmed just a little. Warm brown eyes. Sharp, slightly teasing smile. A quick flicker of recognition in a face you’d never seen before.

“Hey,” he said, nodding.

You blinked. “Hi.”

Your best friend was already moving again, shouting about soju bombs and how someone needed to queue a TWICE song, but you were still standing there, not quite sure what had just happened.

Someone patted the seat next to Seungmin. “Sit, there’s room!”

You hesitated for a second—then lowered yourself onto the cushion beside him. Close enough to feel the heat of his arm, but not quite touching. He didn’t shift away. Just looked over, calm and unreadable.

“You new to the group?” you asked, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt.

“Kind of,” he said. “First time I’ve hung out with this many of them at once. You?”

“I’m here for the chaos,” you smiled.

“Clearly,” he deadpanned, nodding toward Jisung, who was now on his knees dramatically singing into the mic like a man possessed.

You laughed, and Seungmin’s lips twitched—not quite a full smile, but close.

As the night spun on, drinks were poured, songs were shouted more than sung, and someone passed you a mic with no warning. “Your turn!”

You groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” everyone chorused at once.

You scrolled through the playlist and picked something safe—a feel-good track you wouldn’t butcher too badly. As you sang, the nerves melted off with every line. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fun. When the song ended, you glanced around and found Seungmin watching you again. Not in a creepy way. Just… noticing.

“You sing well,” he said casually.

You smiled, tucking the mic away. “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he replied, tone unreadable.

That shut you up for a second. Then, Jisung clapped Seungmin on the back. “Your turn, man! You’re not getting out of this.” Seungmin sighed dramatically, but he stood and grabbed the mic anyway. He walked toward the screen, brows furrowed in concentration as he picked a song.

He didn’t look nervous. He looked like he knew exactly what he was about to do. And you suddenly had the feeling you were about to learn something unexpected.

The room buzzed with playful heckling as Seungmin scrolled through the playlist, chin tilted slightly, brows furrowed like he was reading a secret message only he could decipher. You weren’t sure what kind of song to expect—something upbeat, maybe, something fun to match the mood. But then the opening notes hit, and the room shifted.

Soft. Slow. Raw emotion wrapped in every piano chord. The kind of song that didn’t ask for attention—it demanded silence. A few people started murmuring in surprise. Someone whispered, “Wait… he’s doing this one?” But their voices quickly faded.

Because then Seungmin started to sing. And it was like everything else just… fell away.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was rich, smooth, like velvet pulled tight over a storm. Perfect pitch, but more than that—feeling. Like the lyrics lived somewhere deep in his chest and were only now being let out, piece by piece. There was a quiet ache in the way he shaped the words, almost too gentle to be real. You swore the room was holding its breath. No drunken shouting. No off-key backup vocals. Just him.

And you?

You were frozen.

Eyes locked on the way his lips moved, how his lashes lowered as he hit a falsetto so clean it sent actual chills down your spine. His hand rested loosely at his side, mic held steady like it was second nature.

You’d been to karaoke a hundred times. Heard a hundred voices.

But not like this. This wasn’t just singing. This was intimate. Like you were being let in on something personal. Like every word he sang was carefully chosen for this exact moment—and maybe, somehow, for you. By the time the final note faded, the silence that followed was almost reverent.

Then—applause. Loud, messy, full of disbelief.

“Dude,” Jisung laughed, tossing a napkin in Seungmin’s direction. “You’ve been holding out on us!”

Seungmin just shrugged modestly, handing off the mic. “Didn’t feel like singing earlier.”

But when he turned to sit back down, his eyes found yours first. A little flash of something in his gaze—playful, knowing. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all you could manage was a soft, “That was… wow.”

He smiled, barely. “Thanks.”

And somehow, that tiny smile wrecked you more than the high note he’d just nailed. “He’s so unserious for pulling out his idol voice like that,” someone muttered as Seungmin sat back down beside you, drink in hand like he hadn’t just vocally ruined the entire room in the best way possible.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Not in a weird way. Just in a what the hell just happened kind of way. Everyone knew he was an idol, but it was one thing to know, and another to hear first hand, not at a concert, but in a karaoke room.

“You’re staring,” he said quietly, not looking at you.

“I’m allowed,” you whispered back. “That wasn’t fair.”

That made him glance your way, amused. “What, the song?”

“The voice,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You came here to hang out and decided to assassinate us instead?”

He laughed—a real one this time, not just the polite idol chuckle. “I was being nice. I held back.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still thumping. Then Jisung, clearly thriving off the chaos, grinned and shouted, “OKAY. DUET TIME. We’re pairing up, and I am not accepting no’s—y/n, you’re up with Seungmin!”

You froze. “Wait—what?”

Seungmin just looked sideways at you, one brow raised like he was waiting to see if you’d run or take the mic. Your fingers twitched. “Unless you’re scared?” he said, teasing.

You narrowed your eyes. “I was going to be nice. Guess I’ll sing for blood.”

The group ooh’d at the fake rivalry as someone queued up a familiar, upbeat duet—something flirty and fun with alternating verses and a dramatic chorus. You stood up, heart pounding, and took the mic. Beside you, Seungmin rolled his shoulders out like he was warming up for a concert. “Ready, partner?”

You snorted. “Try to keep up.”

And then the beat dropped.

You started the first verse, playful and light. The words came easier now, riding adrenaline. He jumped in with the second line, voice smooth, pitch perfect, of course—but now with a new edge. He leaned into the teasing lyrics, eyes flicking to you like he was trying to make you break.

You held your ground. And that’s when the magic happened.

There was this flow between you—passing the mic back and forth like it was a game, matching each other’s energy without even trying. He leaned in on a harmony, and your voices fit like puzzle pieces. It didn’t feel rehearsed. It felt right. Someone started filming. By the time the final chorus hit, you were both practically laughing, bodies angled toward each other, eyes locked even as you sang the last line together.

When the song ended, the room exploded.

“Okay, wait, do we need to give you two the room?”

“That was unreasonably hot—hello??”

You flushed, suddenly too aware of how close he was, how easy it had felt. Seungmin looked at you, smile lazy, voice low. “You really aren’t scared, huh.” And just like that—you were in trouble.

The chaos of the room faded to a dull buzz in the background—laughter, drinks clinking, someone screaming lyrics in the next room over. A few of your friends had spilled out to grab snacks, others were too busy arguing over who got to sing next. The energy had shifted into something looser, sleepier. Like the night had finally exhaled.

You were still sitting next to Seungmin, the heat between you warm but not overwhelming anymore. Just… steady. Comfortable.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes fixed on the screen even though it wasn’t playing anything. “They’re wild,” he said, nodding toward your friend group.

You chuckled. “You’re saying that like you’re not used to Jisung.”

“I’m used to Jisung. Not ten Jisungs at once.”

You laughed again, and he smiled. Not his idol smile. Not the curated one. A real one. It was quiet for a beat after that. Not awkward. Just… unspoken. You glanced at him, then at the mic still resting near his knee.

“That song earlier,” you said softly. “The solo. Why that one?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “It’s one I never get to sing on stage,” he said, voice low, fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. “Too slow for a live set. Too quiet. Not exciting enough.”

“But it meant something.” His gaze flicked to yours—sharp and surprised. Then thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.”

There was something gentle about the way he looked at you then. Like he wasn’t just seeing you—he was choosing to let you see him. Not the idol. Not the polished version. Just the boy who liked slow songs and quiet moments.

“Do you ever wish it could all just slow down?” you asked before thinking.

His shoulders lowered slightly, like the question had knocked the air out of him in a good way.

“All the time,” he said. “But it’s rare. I forget how to sit still.”

You nodded. You got that. Maybe not in the same way, but you understood the exhaustion of always having to be on, to perform, to keep up with the people around you even when your body begged for stillness.

“That’s why I picked that song,” he added after a moment. “Not because I thought anyone would notice. Just… felt like I needed to hear it.”

You blinked slowly, feeling something tighten in your chest. He didn’t say it for effect. He wasn’t trying to charm you. He was just being honest. And somehow, that honesty felt more intimate than the duet, more vulnerable than all the shared glances and teasing smiles. You leaned back a little, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Well. I noticed.” He turned to look at you—soft eyes, lips parted like he was about to say something else, something more. But he didn’t. He just nodded, and the silence between you felt full instead of empty.

Eventually, the rest of the group stumbled back in—laughing too loud, arms full of convenience store snacks and another round of drinks no one really needed. The energy picked back up, a final burst before the inevitable crash. Someone attempted to sing again, terribly. Another person fell asleep mid-verse.

The night had peaked, and now it was coasting on the afterglow.

You checked your phone—past midnight. Your voice was hoarse from laughing, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Most of the group was starting to collect their things, slowly accepting the fate of early morning hangovers and sore throats.

Seungmin was still next to you, his thigh brushing yours when he shifted to grab his phone. You should’ve said goodbye. That’s what normal people did, right? Say thanks for tonight and see you around and maybe let fate take it from there.

But something tugged at you. A little ache. A little no, not yet.

And maybe he felt it too, because before you could move, he cleared his throat and said, almost casually:

“Hey.”

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Can I…” He paused, tapping his phone against his palm, not quite looking at you. “Can I get your number?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Only if you promise not to ghost me,” you said, recovering quickly.

That got a laugh out of him—quiet, but real. “I think I owe you at least a duet rematch,” he said, handing you his phone with the contact screen already open. You typed in your number, added a little mic emoji next to your name before handing it back. “Nice touch,” he said, glancing down at the screen. “I’ll remember you by your stage presence.”

You smirked. “And your ballad era will haunt me forever.”

He looked at you for a beat—longer than necessary. And in that moment, the karaoke room, the noise, the people, all of it blurred. Just him. Just you. And something new. Something beginning. You stood, grabbing your coat, heart still racing.

“Goodnight, Seungmin,” you said, soft but certain.

“Goodnight,” he replied. “Text you soon?”

You nodded, already walking backward toward the door. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And when the door slid shut behind you, you were smiling like an idiot. Because you knew. This wasn’t just a fun night. This was the start of something you couldn’t name yet—but wanted to.

The texts started the next morning. Nothing over the top. No grand good morning message or three-paragraph essay.

Just:

[Seungmin]: you survived the chaos?

And then, when you didn’t respond right away:

[Seungmin]: or are you still recovering from my devastating vocal power

You grinned like an idiot in bed and typed back:

[You]: emotionally and spiritually, yes. physically, still in shock.

It continued like that—daily check-ins, flirty sarcasm, the occasional voice memo that made your heart do things. You’d hear his voice and remember that night too vividly: the way he looked under the neon glow, how he sang like no one else was in the room.

But between all the teasing, there were real moments too. You found out he liked rainy days but hated soggy socks. That he collected stuffed animals people gave him, but he’d never admit it publicly. That his schedule was hectic, but he always replied, even if it took a while.

And then, one Friday afternoon:

[Seungmin]: are you free this weekend?

You stared at the screen. Paused. Typed. Deleted. Then typed again:

[You]: depends. is this a duet or a solo performance?

[Seungmin]: …it’s a café date, smartass. i’ll even buy you a drink.

[Seungmin]: and maybe a muffin if you’re charming enough.

The café was tucked in a quiet street, the kind of place that smelled like espresso and fresh flowers, with soft jazz playing through hidden speakers. It was a total contrast to the karaoke bar—slower, quieter, somehow closer. Seungmin was already there when you arrived, wearing a navy hoodie, baseball cap, and black mask. Still somehow completely recognizable. He stood when he saw you, pulling his mask down just enough to flash a smile. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t want to risk you ghosting me.”

You snorted. “As if.”

He ordered your drink before you could argue and handed you a paper bag with a smug look. You opened it—inside was a small Puppy.M plushie. Soft. Perfect. A little derpy in the cutest way.

Your heart squeezed.

“No way,” you whispered, cradling it gently. “You carry these around?”

“I had a spare in my bag,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s very weird.”

“It’s limited edition,” he muttered. “You’re welcome.”

You looked at the plush, then at him. “So… I get a plushie and a muffin?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

But he was already reaching for the display case. The two of you sat near the window, sun spilling across the table as you talked about everything and nothing. His voice was softer here—no cameras, no loud music. Just him.

He asked about your dreams. Listened like he cared. Told you stories from trainee days, his voice dipping low when he got serious, then shooting back up with a dry punchline that made you laugh out loud.

It was… easy. And when you reached for your drink, your fingers brushed the plushie instead—and caught him watching you.

“What?” you asked. He looked away, then back again, almost like he hadn’t meant to speak.

“I felt it,” he said simply. “That night. When I saw you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a confession. “At karaoke. I looked at you and thought, ‘Yeah. She’s gonna ruin me.’”

Your chest tightened. You tried to play it cool. “Too late for that?” He smiled—slow, genuine, completely unguarded.

“Way too late.”

The café dimmed as the sun dipped lower, turning the windows gold and the air warm with that quiet hush of early evening. Most of the tables had emptied, but neither of you had moved. The drinks were long gone, your muffin reduced to a few crumbs, and Puppy.M sat between you like a tiny, smug third wheel.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Just... comfort. And something else. Something buzzing beneath the surface.

You turned to him, chin resting on your hand. “So. Are you always like this on first dates?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Thoughtful. Mysterious. Surprisingly soft?”

He pretended to consider it. “Only when the other person sings on key.”

You snorted and nudged his foot under the table. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said. And then, quieter, “But... no. I’m not always like this.”

You met his gaze—and this time, he didn’t look away.

“I wasn’t planning to meet anyone that night,” he said, voice low, like he was afraid if he said it too loudly, it wouldn’t be true. “I almost didn’t go. But then you walked in and looked at me like you already knew me.”

You swallowed. Hard. “Maybe I did,” you said. “Kind of felt like I’d been waiting to meet you. Is that stupid?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Really stupid.”

And then he leaned in. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just close enough for you to feel the shift in the air between you. For his eyes to flick down to your lips. For your heart to crawl up your throat.

You could’ve pulled back. You didn’t.

Your lips met his like the softest sigh—like a secret finally spoken out loud. He kissed you gently at first, warm and tentative, one hand brushing your jaw like he was afraid to move too fast. You melted into it without meaning to, lips slotting perfectly with his, eyes fluttering shut.

It wasn’t perfect. It was better. Honest. Quiet. Real.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire day.

“Your stage presence is still better than mine,” he murmured.

“Liar.”

He grinned, eyes still closed. “Maybe. But I got the encore, didn’t I?”

You laughed, your hand slipping into his under the table, fingers lacing easily.

“You really did.”

[deus-ex-mona]

anyways! it’s herohei hours~~~~~~

[sheerfreesia007]

Let The Water Pour

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Word count: 1,839

Content warnings: Soft smut, MDNI!, Fluff, Cursing

Summary: Chan arrives home late from a long day in the studio and finds you already in the shower trying to wash away your own long day. What happens when he decides to join you in there?

Jagi: Sweetheart

It’s late as Chan trudges up the steps to your apartment, his body and mind exhausted after the day he had holed up in the studio working with the kids on their latest song. Sighing softly he slips the key into the lock and quietly unlocked the door before stepping inside. He knows you’ve also had a long day at work but he doesn’t want to interrupt your night anymore than he will by coming home so late. When he enters your apartment his eyes dart over to the end table near the front door and spot your work bag set on the floor ready for the next day before his eyes find your keys hung up on your designated key hook on the wall next to the decorative mirror that he had helped you pick out as decor a few months ago. When he steps further into your apartment he notices the living room and kitchen are dimly lit and he can see that you’ve ordered dinner for the two of you as it sits on the kitchen counter waiting for you still in the plastic bag from your favorite take out place. 

He takes his shoes off and puts them on the shoe rack before slipping into his wolfchan house slippers that you had purchased for him on one of his birthdays. He pads over to the kitchen and begins to put the foot away in the fridge figuring that it was too late for the two of you to be eating right now and it’d be saved for tomorrow for either lunch or dinner. When he finishes putting the food away he walks further into the apartment and hears the soft sound of your shower running and he smiles warmly at the thought of sharing a shower with you right now. He quickly walks into your shared bedroom and grabs some pajamas before heading towards the bathroom.

When he walks into the bathroom the steam and heat hit him almost as if it’s a brick wall and he chuckles softly knowing that it was just a quirk of yours to take super hot showers. He sets his pajamas on the counter before turning to spot your foggy silhouette through the frosted glass door of the shower, his eyes travel hungrily up and down your form and he feels a heat start to form in the bottom of his stomach and begin to travel throughout his body. It’s been two years since you and Chan have officially started dating and he still finds himself as attracted to you when you first started dating, he thinks that he’s even more attracted to you now then he was back then. The two of you have grown together and have come together to form this beautiful relationship that makes his soul happy.

He undresses quickly before he’s opening the door and stepping inside behind you, his eyes already trained on your body as the water from the shower slides down your skin in rivulets. He feels himself growing excited with desire for you as he watches you begin to soap up your body as you hum softly to yourself. Your hands are running up and down your body, your fingers playing peek-a-boo with his eyes as you soap up the front of your body. When he suddenly recognizes that you’re humming his Red Lights duet with Hyunjin a chuckle is shocked out of him and it fills the hot steamy air of the shower.

Your reaction is immediate and chaotic, you squeak with shock and surprise before you’re blindly turning on your heel to face him. Chan watches as if in slow motion as you begin to slip from all the soap and water on the floor of the shower, he steps forward and wraps his arms low around your waist pulling you into his chest holding you flush with him so that you don’t fall.

“Chan!” you gasp out and he smiles down at you as the water cascades over the back of his soaking him and yourself. “You scared me.” you scold him gently as your hands come up to rest against his pecs, your fingers subconsciously clenching to scratch your nails against his skin making him shiver at your action. “When did you get home?” you ask him softly before looking up at him with a warm smile on your face. Chan grins down at you, feeling your slick body sliding against his winding his desire up to a hotter level and he feels himself grow hard as he’s slotted between your thighs and caught between your lower stomach and his own.

“Sorry Jagi, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just got home and saw an opportunity to spend time with you before bed.” he answered huskily and watched as your eyes focused on his before a sexy smirk slipped onto your face. You shifted against him and Chan groaned low in his throat feeling your body slide against his hardness, desire and lust bubbled together in his lower stomach and he dropped his forehead to rest against your shoulder as he tried to breathe and calm himself down.

“Uh huh, just wanting to spend some time with me?” you teased him sultrily as your hand slipped up to the back of his head and raked your fingers through his soaked hair while your other hand flicked your thumb against his nipple causing him to gasp softly at the pleasure that gripped him.

“Fuck baby.” he moaned into the steamy air and you pulled him down into a sensual deep heated open mouthed kiss. Chan’s arms that were already wrapped around your hips slid further down until his hands cupped your ass tightly before pulling your body up against his even more. The moans that escaped the two of you mingled together as your tongues clashed together in battle, both of you letting your desire start to consume you and take over.

Your bodies moved as if without thought, sliding against each other rubbing at angles so that pleasure blossomed within both of you. Chan panted against your mouth as you whimpered with need for him. Your leg hooked around his hip and Chan felt himself slide further down your body until he was slotted right up against your throbbing core. He nearly fell to his knees as he felt your hips grind against him guiding him along your slick.

“Please Chan. I need you.” you whimpered softly to him and Chan groaned at your sweet words whispered into the air. He dipped his hips slightly until he caught himself at your entrance before looking into your glossy lust clouded eyes.

“I got you baby. Look at me.” he softly commanded you and yours focused for a moment on his as he slid inside of you before they rolled to the back of your head as moans were ripped from both of you. Chan turned the two of you so that your back was pressed up against the wall of the shower before his hips began to buck and cant into yours with a desire and need to make you feel good. You tilted your head back as one his hands slid to the thigh that was hooked around his hip and he pushed it further up his body so that he slid deeper and at a different angle inside of you. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as your moans rose in volume and pitch, his thrusts nearly drowning you in pleasure as your walls gripped him tightly. “C’mon pretty girl, I know you want it just as badly as I do. Come for me sweetheart.” he pants out to you feeling his own release starting to rush at him.

Your love making was always volcanic and this time was no different, the two of you always collided like this in an explosion of love and desire for each other. As Chan continued to move against you feeling your walls grip and tighten around him he knew that this time would be just as big as any other time as he felt his orgasm start to form in the pit of his stomach.

“Channie, please!” you cried out desperately and Chan shifted forward crowding you up against the wall letting his body fall flush against you as he thrusted. His forearms laid against the wall on either side of your head as you stared up at him helplessly and he ducked his head to capture your mouth as you cried out loudly. Pleasure burst throughout at his body as he felt your walls lock down around him and he bucked his hips up against yours before stilling as he spilled into you heavily.

The two of you panted while trying to catch your breaths after your releases. Chan smiled dreamily down at you as you fondly smiled up at him while your eyes sparkled with all the love you could store within your heart. He kissed you deeply once more groaning softly as he felt himself grow soft and slip out of you. He turned you both back towards the water and quickly helped you wash while you soaped up his body making sure to be careful with the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. 

When Chan turns the water off you step out of the shower and hand him a towel to dry off with while grabbing your own. Chan surprises you by slipping the towel you handed him around your body and begins to dry you off causing you burst out into happy content loving laughter as he messily ruffles your hair under the towel. When you peek out at him from under the towel he can’t help but duck down and kiss you deeply once again while moaning into your mouth.

“I love you.” he whispers against your mouth happily, feeling your lips curve up into a sweet smile.

“And I love you. So much.” you confess to him making his heart swell and beat rapidly in his chest. He lets you dry him off quickly before the two of you slip into your pajamas and then head towards your bedroom. When the two of you get under the covers of your shared bed he quickly opens his arms for you and you cuddle in close, tangling your legs with his as you contently rest your head against his chest. He lays on his back feeling so loved and taken care of as warmth consumes his body, he sighs loudly as he trails one hand up and down your back. He grins sleepily as he hears your answering soft sigh while your lips peck his naked chest just over his heart. “Love you so much Channie. G’night.” you whisper to him before he hears a soft snore slip from your mouth. Chan sighs once again feeling so full of happiness and love as his eyes drift shut slowly.

“Love you. G’night.” he whispers out just as slumber pulls him under her hold.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

@channiesrightasscheek

[rowdydevs]

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣’𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟’ 𝔼𝕧𝕖 - ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, angst, fighting, rough touch, kissing, degradation, name calling, possessive!rafe, jealous!reader, protective!rafe, rough oral male receiving, gunplay, spanking, overstim, cum licking (floor), choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, ownership kink, brat taming, no safe words

from this au if you want to read about the night they got together 🌹

📖 the reader has been secretly dating her bodyguard. During her NYE performance, she learned she’s not the only one he crossed the line with.

⭐ unedited ⭐

Reader's POV:

The backstage area is a whirlwind of costumes, stagehands, producers, and backup dancers. You eye yourself in the mirror, body hugged in a glittering black bodysuit with thousands of sequins that catch every stray light beam.

You should be basking in the excitement of a childhood dream come true—after all, millions of viewers are about to watch you perform a duet on New Year's Rockin’ Eve. But the second she walked inside, any excitement you might have felt went out the window.

Bella Dean.

She's the diva you're supposed to share the big closing number with: petite, curvy, absolutely stunning. Her talent is almost as big as her ego.

Bella’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “Look at you, baby,” she coos, sashaying up to you, flashing a smile that makes your stomach flip. “You okay? You look a little sick?” She asks, pouting her lip, her tone almost demeaning; clearly commenting on your appearance and not the state of your health–just being a fuckin’ bitch.

You fake a smile as your pulse spikes. “Sick?” You ask through a breathy laugh as you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Ill? Not feeling well? Under the weather? You don’t know what sick is?” She asks, returning a nasty laugh.

“I feel just fine. Thanks for your concern,” you reply, your face twisting slightly.

"Of course," she purrs. "I think my makeup girl’s around here somewhere… Maybe it’s just because you look a little dull. I’m sure she has some highlighter or something to add a little sparkle,” she adds a little extra sweetness to her voice at the end, her cruelty making you feel like you could lose your mind as you try to remain professional. Your fingers tighten around your microphone as you try to focus on what’s coming next instead of the 5’2” nightmare beside you.

She steps out just before your cue, hitting the stage first, looking back at you with a wink and a smug smile you wish you could hurl your mic at her face.

You take a calming breath, reminding yourself that this will be a few minutes. You have a whole night ahead of you to look forward to. A night with him… Rafe stands off to the side, looking devilishly handsome in his all-black suit. He folds his arms over his broad chest, looking into the crowd, eyes trailing the space as usual.

You turn back to Bella, your eyes finding hers, her ruby-red lips curling into a wicked smile, making a knot of unease tighten in your belly. She quirks her eyebrow, stepping closer; too close for your liking. “That bodyguard of yours…” she says, tipping her head toward Rafe, making her platinum blonde curls bounce. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

You fiddle with your microphone, trying to seem as unbothered as possible, but she sees right through you.

“Rafe?” She chirps, making your eyebrows shoot up as his name leaves her lips effortlessly. “Mhmm… Rafey. Ugh, don’t tell me he didn’t mention me,” she tosses her hair to the side. “I’m sure he had an interview. That wasn’t brought up?”

You purse your lips, look out toward the crowd, and try to distract yourself.

“Don’t tell anyone, but we did get a little cozy on my last tour,” she leans in, giddily gossiping like she’s talking to a friend, but we both know what she’s doing. How unprofessional of me, right?” she chides as she smiles out to the crowd, giving them her million-dollar smile before blowing them a kiss.

You feel your body tremble as the adrenaline of the night and this admittance courses through your veins. Rafe did mention he’d once made a mistake by getting involved with a past client, but he never mentioned a name–her name. You swallow hard, clearing the lump in your throat as your mind starts spinning out, thinking of what the two must have done behind closed doors.

“That doesn’t sound like Rafe,” you assure.

“So you didn’t know. Ouch.” She flicks her gaze toward him again. “Doesn’t sound like you’re working the man to his full potential.”

You bite your cheek, lips tightening as you try to hold back your outburst. “Well, if you are and you don’t kiss and tell, just know he has a habit of getting too close. I just want you to be careful,” she pouts again, her voice like nails on a fucking chalkboard as the band starts to play around you.

And with that, she glides away, leaving you breathless and seething as she walks to the front of the stage. Your cheeks burn as you glance at Rafe from the wings. He catches your eyes with a concerned expression–the man no doubt reading your emotion like a book. Even though he has no idea what the fuck just happened, he knows something’s off with you. His eyebrows pinch together, beautiful features hardening.

Bella and Rafe? I can’t fuckin’ handle this right now.

The crowd roars excitedly as Bella’s voice pours out of the speakers. Your heart bangs with the opening beats of the song. You look toward the camera as it pans to you, forcing a smile. Your voice wavers as your anxiety gets the better of you–Bella looking toward the wings at Rafe as well, painting a picture of what their exchanges might have looked like in the past, her stealing little glances at him from center stage instead of you.

The lights sweep over you, and the first note leaves your lips. Your muscles tighten as the pitch wavers, just a hair off, but it’s enough for Bella to shoot a look back at you. Your stomach aches, heartbreaking, as you feel yourself starting to fumble while Bella shines. You push harder–the melodies leaving your lips sounding anything but natural.

Bella steps forward, delivering her verse perfectly, making the crowd scream. Her eyes twinkle as she passes you, making your blood boil. You lose track of the music for a split second, coming in a beat too late, making the blonde smirk in your peripheral vision. Fucking cunt.

You take a deep breath with the guitar break, straining to gather your emotions, trying to remind yourself of the night and how you’ll hate yourself if you let her ruin it for you. You turn toward her, melting your voices together in perfect harmony. The tension between you is thick, but it doesn’t read that way–the crowd, eating up every second of the duet.

The music cuts and the crowd goes wild. Bella moves toward you for the planned hug, but you step away and wave to the crowd. As she waves, you feel her arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in for a half-hug. Bella leans in, looking up at you, feigning concern. “You were a bit shaky. Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” you hiss through a gritted smile to the crowd.

She gasps surprisedly before resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t be upset, babes. Let me know if you are ever in the market for a new bodyguard. I always find the best ones,” she winks. “Have a happy New Year.”

You resist the urge to run, walking off the stage gracefully before storming toward your manager, taking your purse off her hands before snapping your focus to Rafe. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was Bella you messed around with, huh?” You hiss, quiet enough to meet his ears only as you glare at him.

“This isn’t the right place,” he warns as he looks through you even still, eyes scanning the crowd.

“No, Rafe,” you snap. “This is the perfect fucking place. I just found out about your little fling from Bella. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Rafe steps closer, looking you in the eyes, making you draw a little breath. “Not now.”

“Forget it,” you scoff, and before he can stop you, you flee the scene, disappearing into the thick crowd of backstage traffic. You walk through the double doors, looking to the left at the long line of dressing rooms before taking a risk, pushing through the side door.

The winter wind whips as you walk through the tight, dark alley, heels clicking against the asphalt with each step as you head toward the main street. Fans and paparazzi push in around you, yelling your name, but you keep your head down, pushing ahead.

You look down the block, knowing your hotel is close, but how close? You shove through the thick crowd, still waiting to get into the venue. The middle of the road is packed, too, with a barrage of people gathered, waiting for the ball to drop. You lift your eyes for a moment. Halfway there… You cross your arms tighter around your waist, trying to keep warm while holding yourself back from answering the phone vibrating like crazy in your purse.

Silence.

You sigh in relief as you walk into the swanky downtown hotel. The noise behind you falls away. The lobby's hush and glamor starkly contrast what’s happening on the other side of the revolving door—velvet chairs, marble floors, and the soft golden glow of chandeliers hanging overhead.

You draw a deep breath and blow it out slowly, looking to your left. Your head hangs with mental exhaustion as you step toward the hotel bar, pushing through the door before heading toward the rail.

You order your drink, asking for a double, hearing your voice tremble with anger and stress. You stare at your reflection in the barback's mirror, your makeup perfectly done, stage outfit on; your hairstyle to perfection, but that was just a facade. You felt far from perfect underneath–completely broken.

Rafe seems so poised and professional. It was so hard to break his icy exterior…

As childish as it sounds, you felt special. He seemed so untouchable that when you were able to break through, you felt like maybe there was something different about you.

He didn’t seem like someone who would sleep with his clients, and now you can’t help but think just how many people he had took care of like he was taking care of you.

Bella… What if it wasn’t special, though? What if it was just a one-time thing–a fling, and Bella was trying to get in your head? You grab your drink, lifting it to your lips, downing half of it fast, letting it sear your throat, trying to numb your thoughts.

She wanted this to happen. You hated yourself for letting her affect you the way she did. The truth is, she saw you fall apart in front of her, catching every missed step and note; each misstep was a win for her.

The bar is quiet, the low roar of the New Year’s celebration humming outside. The soft jazz piano swells in the background, paired with the soft conversations of the guests dressed to the nines. No one bats an eye at your arrival; no one asks for anything from you, letting you sit for a moment and breathe.

“Sir!” You hear the shrill call of someone from the lobby. A sudden commotion on the other side of the door pulls you out of your peace as Rafe storms in. He looks down at his phone, eyes scanning from left to right. Your heart falls as he zeros in on you, his nostrils flaring with anger, contrasting with the look of relief in his striking blue eyes.

He sucks his teeth, holding himself back from cursing you out on sight. His Gucci suit jacket is half undone, his toffee-colored hair mussed, and his sharp jaw is set in a straight line. He looks fuckin’ angry, completely winded, like he's been fighting through thick crowds, going to Hell and back to get to you. Good. Let him be angry. Why should I have to suffer alone?

Rafe makes a beeline for you, his long legs crossing the room in a few strides. The bartender walks over, asking how he can serve him, his voice quickly fading as he sees the look in Rafe’s eyes. Your bodyguard thumbs through his wallet, slapping $100 on the counter before grabbing your arm.

“We’re leaving,” he hisses, tugging you off the barstool. You gasp, your unfinished drink sloshing onto the floor as he steers you back toward the exit.

You yank your arm back, disregarding the curious glances around you, shooting daggers at your brooding bodyguard. “You don’t get to boss me around right now,” you hiss as you fight him off, but it only makes his fingers twist a little tighter around your arm.

“Once wasn’t enough?” He snarls.

“Spare me the lecture,” you sass. “M’not in the mood for you —fuckin’ drama queen.”

Rafe leans in, his warm breath hitting your skin as he pulls you toward the elevator. “Do you have any fucking idea how reckless that was? Runnin’ out there alone on the busiest night of the year? In the busiest city? Are you insane? And you’re alone-”

“Did I look alone?” You snap as you lift what’s left of your drink. “Didn’t pour this shit myself,” you laugh tauntingly before shooting it back.

He scoffs annoyedly as his grip on you tightens even more. “So you’d rather run away and have somethin’ awful happen to you, risk my whole fuckin’ career than talk to me about what you found out?”

“Correct,” you clip. “Now, let go of me.”

“Let’s make a deal, tough girl. You can get outta my fuckin’ grip, then you can go. I happen to like you... I’m not some insane stalker who wants to wear your fuckin’ skin. Aight? It ain’t safe out there for you, and for some reason, you think that your best option is to run,” he hisses as he bangs his fist against the up button.

The elevator door glides shut, leaving the two of you alone. You both stand next to each other, seething for different reasons. Rafe tosses your arm away when you fight against him one last time, making you push out an exaggerated breath.

Elevator music fills the space around you, so light and cheery it’s almost satirical at the moment. You stand side to side with your bodyguard, arms crossed over your chests, both of you waiting for the other to break.

“You have no right-”

“Run off again, and I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he cuts you off.

“You wouldn't be mad? Really?”

“‘Course I would be. I'd be fuckin’ irritate, but I’d wait ‘til I got back to the hotel to say somethin’ like a fuckin’ adult. Not run away like a goddamn child-”

“I’m not-”

“A child,” he cuts you short, finishing your sentence as he turns toward you, his voice low and lethal. “You’re not a fuckin’ kid. Aight? You’re a grown-ass woman. Start actin’ like it before you get yourself hurt.”

You turn toward his chest, too, and look up into his eyes, not backing down. “You told me you once crossed a line with a client but never said it was her. She wasn't even mentioned on your resume, Rafe. Why was that?” You ask breathily, letting your defiance and disgust bleed through.

“That shit doesn't change the fact that that was a bad decision, princess,” he returns your same tone, that term of endearment he loves to use coming out as anything but endearing.

“Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level. Bella is a cunt. It would have been nice to know this before sharing the stage with her so I could have been prepared for her bullshit instead of being blindsided and ruining that moment for myself.”

“Ruining your moment? What the hell are you talking about?” He asks in disbelief. “Your performance was perfect.”

“The fuck it was, Rafe,” you scoff as you step out of the elevator without him. “Your performance was perfect,” you mock him. “Bella’s performance was perfect, Rafe… And tomorrow, when there’s a review on Rolling Stone, maybe you’ll get it through your thick fuckin’ head.”

Rafe runs his fingers through his hair; frustration etched into every line on his handsome face. “Baby,” he mumbles as he softens his tone and closes the space between you and him. “I screwed up by not tellin’ you before tonight. M’sorry. But you can’t keep runnin’ off when you’re mad. I’m your bodyguard; I have to protect you whether you like me or not.”

You wave your keycard in front of the door handle, rolling your eyes at his apology, if you could even call it that. “Well, Rafe… Maybe you should be better at protecting your secrets,” you grumble, going to shut the door behind you, but Rafe clutches it tight, pushing against you with minimal effort, making you growl in frustration. You toss your clutch onto the sofa, kick off your heels in protest, and rip off your earrings for dramatic effect.

"You lied by omission, Rafe. You said you 'made a mistake' once with a client but never told me it was Bella. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?”

He sighs as he strips himself of his jacket, tossing it off before loosening his tie. “Jesus Christ, baby. I was gonna tell you. Just not right before you had to perform with her."

"How considerate,” you breathe, your sarcasm palpable, making his cheeks flush with anger.

“Bella is toxic-”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“She'll do anythin’ to get under your skin-” he starts.

“Jesus, Rafe! Tell me something I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“I screwed up with her, yes… But do you know how long ago that was? That was at the start of my career. I was still tryin’ to figure shit out. I was young-”

“So, is this a serial thing for you, Cameron? Or am I an exception?” You ask, with a lifted brow as you pop open a bottle of De Venoge Louis, eyes shifting over to him. “Just another one of your favorite pop stars?”

“Enough,” he groans tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he paces the room. “You know that's not how I see you… You gotta stop.”

“And how do you see me?” You ask. “I know how I see you…” You mutter, foregoing the glasses altogether, lifting the bottle to your lips instead.

“Not gonna tell you how I feel right now.”

“What the hell does that mean,” you laugh, dribbling champagne on your chin as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in confusion.

“Because you’re actin’ irrational. This is not the time.”

“Stop telling me that it’s not the time, Rafe. Oh my god,” you whine, voice brimming with frustration.

“I get that you’re upset,” he scolds. “But runnin’ off into the city alone after a show and putting yourself at risk like that over Bella Dean was fuckin’ stupid, regardless, and you know that. Come back here… And lose your shit. Hell, you’re yellin’ at me right fuckin’ now. Only difference is you’re safe.”

“Sorry for makin’ you do your job, Rafe.”

He nods his head, a look in his eyes like he’s going absolutely insane. He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexed, looking like it could tear the fabric apart. “N’to be clear. Chasin’ you is my job?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t at the job interview… Not quite sure what your scope of work was, but I assume the details of your job didn’t include sleepin’ with me either-”

“You’re begging for trouble, you know that?” He shouts, his loud voice hitting your chest hard, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

“M’Terrified,” you giggle, trying to hide your nervousness as your heart rate starts to climb. His eyes narrow on yours–a mix of anger and something darker.

He walks over, looking down at you perched on the velvet lounge chair. You gasp as his hand comes around your throat, his grip tightening and tightening. He lifts you to your feet, pulling you chest to chest. “Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

You look at him with dead eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his threats, letting your eyes roll in the back of your head. Rafe tightens his grip a little more, making you sputter out a breath.

“Keep rollin’ those eyes at me, too, while we’re at it,” he growls. “You think I won’t give you a lesson?”

Adam's apple bobs in his throat, lip snarling as you refuse to submit. Rafe yanks you forward, crushing his lips against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. You go to shove him away, but his fingers find your hair, twisting into the strands, tugging you closer, forcing you in place. The air leaves your lungs as he shoves you into the wall, never breaking your kiss.

When he finally tears his lips away, you’re both breathless, chests heaving, longing for more.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible,” he rasps, blue eyes blazing with lust, his rasp voice taut and hoarse. “Run off, you don’t fuckin’ listen, and then you come back here and pick stupid fuckin’ fights, spoutin’ off shit we both know ain’t true.”

“Maybe you deserve it, Rafe. Did you ever think about that-” Rafe silences you with another kiss–more longing and possessive than the last. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into your lips.

Rafe breaks away again, leaving you chasing his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you panting into each other, desperate for more.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispers, voice vibrating with tension. “Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, pussy pulsing as you listen to all of his threats– his words honestly having the opposite effect. Looks like he’s the one begging for trouble.

“Fuckin’ do it, Rafe,” you dare him, smiling against his lips, “you think I'm scared of you?"

“Think you're braver than you should be, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Rafey? You gonna punish me?” You ask.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he says, firm and cold, making goosebumps spread across your body. He leans in, pinning you against the wall, pressing his big body into you. Rafe kisses along your neck, teeth scraping your ear. “Don’t even think we have a safe word. Do you?” He asks, and you can hear that crooked smile in his voice.

“N-No,” you whisper, trying to recall, but you honestly don’t think you could at this moment, the way his body surrounds you, his rich cologne clouding your senses completely.

“Shit, baby… Guess you’re outta luck.” You gasp as he picks you up off your feet, slinging your body over his shoulder. “Maybe if you start behaving-” Crack! He slaps your upper thigh harshly, making you scream. “Maybe we can think of one together, hmm?”

Rafe throws you down on the bed, making the last bit of air in your lungs escape. He strips himself out of his button-down shirt, quickly working himself out of his pants before tossing his belt and gun onto the bed.

“Wh-What are you gonna do with those?” You ask, hearing your voice tremble.

Rafe clears the space between you, lowering his hands on the mattress as you look wide-eyed at him.

“Aww, princess… You know me. I love leavin’ out little details,” he smiles wickedly.

Rafe grabs the front of your bodysuit, tearing the delicate material open effortlessly, sending rhinestones and beads flying onto the bed and the hardwood floor as he tears away the custom piece without batting an eye. He pulls the material down your thighs, tossing it to the floor before grabbing your hips, manhandling you to your belly on the bed, your ass in the air, and your feet on the floor.

“FUCK!” You scream as his big hand comes down, slapping your bare ass, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Before you can even react, he does it a second time, then a third, making tears pool in your eyes and wetting the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“The fuck was that, tough girl?” He asks through a breathless laugh.

“I-I… Fuck you,” you whimper, trying to stand strong. Rafe grabs a fistful of hair, yanking you back, his head lowered to match your eyes.

“Fuck me? You told me to do this shit, baby girl… You’re the boss. I’m just doin’ my job.” Rafe uses his hold on your hair to push your face into the mattress, pushing two thick fingers into your soaked core. “Listen up, princess,” Rafe huffs. “You deserve this. I’m not gonna put up with this shit, aight? You’re lucky I’m even fuckin’ touchin’ you.” Rafe pumps his fingers in your pussy, finger-fucking you mercilessly as you try your best to wiggle away. “Stop squirmin’,” he chides. “Hands behind your fuckin’ back.”

The second you do, Rafe grips the against your lower back, the palm of his hand clapping against your ass as he fingers stroke your G-spot. Your thighs start to tremble, pussy tightening around his big fingers. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” He taunts.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Think it’ll fix that little attitude of yours?”

“Yes, fuck!” You cry.

“I’m not sure it will…” Rafe sighs sadly. “I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.” Rafe pulls his hands out of your soaked cunt, slapping your pussy fast and tough, making you cum hard, sobbing as your pussy flutters around nothing, your hands still pinned tightly against your back. Rafe fucks his fingers into your cunt, darting them inside you at an insane pace, and seconds later, you’re coming again, pussy gushing around his hand, landing on the floor with a little splash.

And even then, he doesn’t stop, his fingers just sopping through the mess as you fight against him, crying in overstimulation and pleasure. “Rafe, please. Please. Please.”

“What?” He spits.

“I-I… Mphff… Safe… Safeword,” you hiccup.

He booms out a laugh. Drawing both his hands back in surrender. Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you pant. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jeopardizing my job, your life, our fuckin’ relationship over a bitch then means nothin’ to me. That’s the least you should be,” Rafe scolds as he grabs your hips, rolling you to your back.

You look between your thighs, eyes following Rafe as he reaches for his gun. He lifts it, making a show of it, eyeing the weapon in his hand. Your eyes fall down his body, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with his rapid breathing, his gold chain glinting in the dim. The ridges of his abs deepen with every level breath, his hard cock tenting out the fabric of his white Calvins, leaving you craving him even more.

He clicks on the safety, lifting the gun, pointing it at your pussy, slapping the piece against your inner thighs. “Spread your shit,” he mumbles. You widen your thighs on the mattress, your glossy cunt dripping with your arousal. Rafe presses the cool muzzle against your pulsing clit, making your muscles jump and your thighs drawn in. “I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I-”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Rafe repeats your words from the fight as he starts to rub little figure eights on your clit. Your body trembles with adrenaline as he continues to work you over with his handgun. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. “You gonna cum… off a gun? You that big of a slut, princess? You don’t even need a dick?” Rafe mumbles, and right when you’re about to fall apart below him, he pulls it away, leaving you whimpering and fussing for more, your bottom lip wobbling as you look up into your boyfriend’s beautiful, cruel eyes.

“Rafe, you’re being mean…” You whisper, your voice barely above a hush. “I said, ‘I was sorry’.”

“And, I told you not to run away again… N’look what happened. Get on your knees.”

You climb off the bed, stumbling slightly from your weak knees. You land on the floor, crawling the rest of the way to Rafe, glassy-eyed and pouty-lipped. You kneel before him, watching as Rafe lifts the gun slightly, mirroring his dick, the tip of it coated with your slick.

“Suck it.”

Your heart starts to race as you look down the barrel of the gun. You look up at Rafe as you wrap your lips around the end of it, feeling your heart bang in your chest.

You take the cold metal to the back of your throat, taking as much as you can get, gagging around his weapon, sucking it clean, bobbing back and forth with your eyes on him. Rafe looks down at you hungrily, desperately wanting your lips on him and giving him the same service.

“Take ‘em off,” Rafe mumbles, and you slide your wet lips off the gun, racing to pull down his boxers fast. And without warning, he shoves himself in your mouth, pushing as far as his dick would go making you sputter and gag. You reach out, grabbing his tights, squeezing tightly, losing all vision as your eyes fill with tears.

You blink your tears away as he slides in and out of your swollen lips, grunting and moaning, using your mouth like a toy. The sounds around you were downright pornographic, making your pussy weep down your thighs. Your mouth leaked as well, saliva and precum dripping out of the seam.

Rafe finally pulls you off his cock, leaving you gasping for a breath. Before he can give you a command, you wrap your lips around him again in a desperate attempt for mercy, swirling and sucking him off just like he loves. You cradle his heavy balls in your hand, and he throats his hand back to the ceiling, a broad smile spreading on his perfect lips. “Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he praises.

You bob your head back and forth, stroking where your mouth won’t reach, trying desperately to please him. You can feel his cock throb and swell on your tongue, his breathing quickening by the second.

“Better swallow it all, princess, or we’re gonna be back at square one,” he mumbles, only half-kidding. He looks down at you, watching you throat him with all you have, his plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Rafe pulls out of your mouth, jerking his cock in your face as you lay out your tongue. His warm cum shoots out of his tip, coating your lips and tongue. Your eyes flutter open as you swallow it all, licking your lips to clean up the rest of the mess as you look up at him.

He clicks his tongue, letting his gaze fall, eyeing a few loose pearls of cum decorating the floor. You rest your hands on the hardwood, lowering yourself to lick it up.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he looks down at you in lust and adoration. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you off the floor and into his strong arms. You wrap yourself in his, dressing your arms around his neck as his lips press against yours for a tender kiss.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he soothes. “No more punishments. Alright? You took that shit like a good girl. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me… This right here—this is what I’ve been wantin’ to do all night.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, pecking at his lips.

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckles as he lays you down on the bed, burying himself in his neck before kissing his way up to your ear. “Just wanted to take care of you. Make you feel good. Hard to think about much else when I see you up there. Can barely focus on keepin’ you safe when I’m just thinkin’ about fuckin’ this perfect pussy,” he mumbles as he slaps his tip against your clit.

Rafe slides his cock between your drenched folds, swirling his head around your hole before sinking in deep, bottoming you out with his long, thick dick. You grab two fistfuls of sheets as he grabs your hips in his big ringed hands, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in.

“So good, baby… Fuck. Damn, you look so good takin’ my cock,” he moans as he starts rutting in and out. You couldn’t even get a word out with the way his dick was slamming in and out of your pussy.

Your eyes roll back in your head, boobs bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you go absolutely dumb on his dick. Rafe speeds up the pace, making your body tremble uncontrollably. Tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks, wetting the pillow below. Rafe reaches down, brushing them away with his thumbs, slipping one between your lips to let you suck yourself numb as he drills into you.

“Come on, princess,” Rafe hums as he feels your body start to tighten around him. “Cream all over my cock. Show me what a good girl does, huh? Let me fill you up. Been so good for me,” he groans as he reaches down, rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as the coil in your belly gets tighter and tighter.

You scream his name, cumming all over his big cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. Rafe gives you a few more rough thrusts, emptying his load deep inside as his hungry lips devour yours, swallowing your whimpers and cries.

“You okay, baby?” He asks sweetly against your lips.

“M’perfect, Rafe,” you coo.

“You are,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “You mad at me still?” Rafe asks as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“No,” you whisper. “Can’t stay mad at you, baby.”

“Mhmm… I know the feelin’,” he laughs. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. You snag your phone out of your nightstand, pulling out your phone, seeing back-to-back messages from your manager.

Claire Baby: Rafe said you were ok. Stop running away. Thnx.

Claire Baby: Rafe mentioned that there was a history between him and Bella

Claire Baby: I told him to save it til after the show so it didn’t fuck with your chemistry

Claire Baby: I had no idea she was such a bitch. I’m sorry. Pls Forgive me.

“Rafe Cameron,” you sigh.

“Mhmm…” He asks as he pulls out of your pussy nice and slow, watching his warm cum leak out of your puffy hole, swirling his fingers around before stuffing it back inside.

“Rafe…”

“What?” He asks as he tilts his head slightly, lifting his fingers for you to suck them clean. You wrap your lips around his fingers, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you tried to say something?” You ask softly as you look back up at him.

“‘Cause I deserved it… Shoulda told you from the start,” he answers. “No more secrets…”

“No more running,” you whisper.

You roll your head to the side, catching the time on the clock. 11:58 PM… Rafe kisses your cheek lovingly, wrapping his big body in yours. “How do you see me, Rafe,” you ask softly, pulling his focus back to your eyes. He brushes your hair off your face, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Well, when I see you, I see the future. I see my dream girl. I see the only thing I want to see.”

You bite your lips, fluttering your lashes, the night's emotions getting the better of you.

“I see the woman that I love, princess.”

“You love me?” You whisper, voice laced with tears.

Rafe pulls you into his lips as the world outside the window roars with the new year, the clock striking midnight as your lips meet, your bodies tangled in sheets.

“Of course I love you, baby,” he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. six

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: After months of blurred lines and staged headlines, the truth finally breaks through—there’s no pretending anymore. You’re with Ellie now, for real. Wrapped up in tour dates, secret kisses behind curtains, and a love that’s grown too wild to hide. The concert is electric, the afterparty dizzy with heat, and through it all, you and Ellie can’t keep your hands—or hearts—off each other. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 12,3k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, fluff, top/possesive!ellie, sub! reader, strap-on sex (r!receiving), oral sex (r!receiving), chocking, slapping, hair pulling, pet names, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, cursing, violence, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Disclaimer: This chapter contains references to drug use. If you're sensitive to this topic, please read with caution or consider skipping. I aim to handle it with thoughtfulness and respect.

BREAKING: ELLIE WILLIAMS & Y/N MAKE HISTORY WITH THE FIRST QUEER KISS IN GRAMMY HISTORY!!! 🔥👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🚨

(Full emotional damage, A-list reactions, meme chaos, and internet meltdowns below. Proceed with caution.)

LOS ANGELES, CA — We tuned in for the music. We stayed for the drama. But what we got? A history-making, earth-shattering, culture-resetting moment so powerful it will be analyzed in LGBTQ+ archives, dissected in media studies courses, and quite possibly investigated by NASA—because the sheer gravity of this event sent us all into another orbit.

The 67th Annual Grammy Awards didn’t just give us winners, electrifying performances, and overpriced celebrity reactions—it delivered a full-blown revolution. The first QUEER KISS IN GRAMMY HISTORY unfolded before our very eyes, and the world has simply not been the same since.

Let’s break it down—frame by frame, reaction by reaction—because let’s be real: we are NEVER recovering from this.

THE PERFORMANCE THAT LEFT THE INTERNET IN RUINS.

🎥 [Video link attached. Side effects may include: heart palpitations, spontaneous screaming, and an urgent need to be laid to rest IMMEDIATELY.]

Our favorite agents of chaos took the stage for their highly anticipated duet of She, and within 0.2 seconds, we were all in grave, irreversible danger.

We’re talking eye contact and fleeting touches so intense they should be classified as a controlled substance. So charged they are now banned in 47 countries and counting.

At the end of the song, no warning, no buildup, not even a dramatic orchestral swell, just pure, undiluted lesbian cinema. Ellie turned to Y/N, locked eyes with her, and then—

💥 KISSED HER LIKE THEY WERE ABOUT TO BE TORN APART BY THE FORCES OF FATE. 💥

The audience? Absolutely feral. The cameras? MALFUNCTIONED. They couldn’t even keep up. Jesse and Dina, still on stage? Looking like they just witnessed a divine event.

And the celebrities?? Pure CINEMA.

Beyoncé – Shaking her head, slow clapping like she just witnessed the most powerful love story of our time. Taylor Swift – Allegedly whispering oh my god on an endless loop. Billie Eilish – Straight-up dropping her drink, mouth frozen in pure, unfiltered gay panic. Lady Gaga – Visibly screaming “MOTHERS.” Harry Styles – Nodding like a proud gay uncle.

No thoughts. No survival.

Just two sapphics rewriting history on live television.

THE ACCEPTANCE SPEECH THAT DESTROYED HUMANITY.

📸 [Clip attached. Send thoughts, prayers, and therapy bills.]

Y/N didn’t just win the Grammys—she owned them. FOUR AWARDS. A clean sweep. And as if that weren’t enough, The Fireflies won SIX. GRAMMYS. SIX. Sold-out arenas, chart-topping records, and now? A total obliteration of the competition.

But nothing—and I mean NOTHING—could have prepared us for the Category 5 emotional devastation that was Williams’ words at The Fireflies Album of the Year speech.

She stepped up to the mic, hands shaking, took one deep breath, and turned to look at Y/N with that look. The one we’ve seen a thousand times, but never like this—not this raw, not this real.

And then she said, voice steady but somehow still knocking the air out of everyone in that room:

"There are people who change you. Who tear you apart and put you back together in ways you never saw coming. And even when they annoy the shit out of you, you know—deep down—you’d be lost without them. And you are that person for me."

💀💀💀 WE WERE ALL DUG INTO GRAVES. 💀💀💀

The pause. The pause that shaved years off our collective lifespans. The pause that stretched out like the universe itself was holding its breath.

And then—

"And I just wanted to say that… that I love you."

👀👀👀 EXCUSE ME?????????? 👀👀👀

The crowd erupted. Jesse and Dina screaming in the background. A-listers clutching their chests like they had just been stabbed through the heart. The camera panning to Y/N—eyes wide, lips parted, staring into the distance like those words had just rewired her entire brain chemistry.

THE AFTERMATH: INTERNET MELTDOWN OF THE CENTURY.

✅ Twitter: Unrecoverable. Users filing for emotional compensation and group therapy. ✅ TikTok: Gone. Servers overheated on impact. Fandom historians drafting deep dives as we speak. ✅ TMZ (literally us): sprinting through the streets like it’s the Olympics of gay panic. ✅ Rolling Stone: Already calling it "the most iconic queer moment in music history." And you know what? YES.

And let’s take a moment for THE CONSERVATIVES. Fox News? Fuming. Boomers on Facebook? Typing in all caps about the ‘downfall of society.’ Every homophobe within a 50-mile radius? Visibly sweating and shaking.

Lesbians winning. History being made. Society upgraded.

AND WE. LOVE. TO. SEE. IT.

🔗NEW TMZ UPDATE: THE HAND-HOLDING, JACKET STEALING, AND CAFÉ DATE THAT FINISHED US OFF 🔥🚨

📸 [MORE Paparazzi shots and attached. If you thought you were safe, you were DEAD WRONG.]

Just when we thought we had barely survived the Grammys' emotional onslaught, Ellie and Y/N said, "Nah, stay in your casket."

Because the morning-after pap shots just dropped, and the afterglow is BLINDING.

And let’s talk TIMELINE. Not only did they spend the night together, but the afterparty photos have surfaced—whispered conversations, lingering touches, and Ellie looking at Y/N like she personally strung up the stars.

But those photos? Just the warm-up. Because the morning after, they were spotted strolling into a café, looking slow, soft, and disgustingly in love. Not their usual teasing, no performance—this was different.

This was "We-just-rewrote-history-then-I-rocked-your-world-and-now-we're-getting-coffee-like-a-married-couple" kind of energy.

🎥 THE EVIDENCE:

• Ellie leaning in too close, whispering something that had Y/N turning BRIGHT red.

• Y/N sipping coffee, still looking wrecked, while Ellie shamelessly stole bites of her croissant.

• Ellie’s oversized jacket swallowing Y/N whole. Ellie sitting across from her, smirking like she just won a championship.

Even innocent bystanders were left SHOOK. One café worker we interviewed allegedly had to take a deep breath before serving them, muttering, “the energy they have is actually too much to handle.”

And those final paparazzi shots? Our favorite rockstar holding our favorite popstar’s hand even tighter as they walked back onto the street, smiling like they just lived through the softest, most cinematic rom-com of all time.

TMZ is now officially in FULL surveillance mode. Every glance, every touch, every silent confirmation of what we already KNOW is happening—we’re tracking it ALL.

But what do YOU think? Drop your most unhinged comments below! ⬇️🔥

────────────

❤️ 20.3M — 💬 698.7K

📌 TOP COMMENTS:

@: We need a full forensic analysis of Y/N’s post-Grammys glow because sis walked out of that hotel looking RENEWED, REVIVED, AND REBORN

@: Ellie was gripping that mic like a stress ball when she said “I love you” 😭 girly was SO STRESSED SHES SUCH A LIL CUTIE

@: the way they walked into that café like they weren’t publicly obliterating us 8 hours ago 😂 

@: incredible day to be gay, my folks. my skin has just cleared.

@: WHY IS NOBODY TALKING AB THE AFTERPARTY PHOTOS OMG MY PHONE IS GONNA COMBUST FROM HOW HOT THEY ARE😩😩😩😩

@: I don’t know if I wanna study this moment in an LGBTQ+ history class or frame it and hang it above my bed like a religious shrine

@: y/n wearing her jacket like a trophy while Ellie sat there looking like the cat that ate the canary??? WHEN IT'S GONNA BE MY TURN😭

@: so much stuff happened in only one day omg that’s it I’m booking therapy and a heart transplant for all of us

@: Ellie just confirmed that she can pull both Grammys and souls straight out of bodies in one night. MY ICON.

@: it’s so crazy how they went from sneaky links to BUILDING A LITERAL LEGACY IN A FEW MONTHS.

@: that afterglow was so blinding I had to turn my brightness down just to process those café pics in peace

@: Ellie looked at Y/N on that stage like she was about to risk it all, and then she DIDDDD

@: The way the cameraman ZOOMED IN SO FAST like even he knew this was about to be a HISTORICAL LESBIAN EVENT™

@: honestly, someone get these women a throne already because they’ve earned it👑

@: they look so IN LOVE MY POOR GAY HEART CANT HANDLE IT 😭😭😭

@: I just KNOW the hotel walls were whispering the AFTERMATH of that speech I fear for the structural integrity of that building

The world had shifted.

Tilted into something softer, more tangible than either of you had ever expected.

What once had been an act, a perfectly curated illusion of stolen glances and well-timed touches for the cameras, had unraveled into something neither of you could fake. Not even if you tried.

At first, it had been easy to pretend. To play the part, to let the world believe in the effortless chemistry between you—because wasn’t that what they wanted? A fantasy to buy into, a love story they could project their own desires onto. And yet, now, the line between performance and reality had blurred.

No, blurred isn’t the right word. That suggests hesitation, uncertainty.

And there was none of that anymore.

Three months had passed since the Grammys. Since that night, that breathless moment when it all came crashing down and the truth between you was undeniable. Since the weight of what you felt had finally shattered through the surface, too big, too consuming to be ignored.

And now, there was no hesitation. No careful distance or unspoken boundaries.

Now, there were real dates—ones without touches already planned or pre-approved locations for paparazzi to conveniently “stumble” upon. There were late-night drives through LA with the windows down and her hand gripping your thigh, not for show, but because she simply wanted to touch you.

There were nights—late, hazy, endless—where conversation poured like wine, deep and heady. You talked about everything: life, death, music, the past, the kind of love that makes you reckless. Words slurred by exhaustion or laughter or both, but still honest, still yours.

There were lazy mornings tangled in bed sheets, her sleepy murmurs against your shoulder, the warmth of her breath fanning over your skin as she whispered things that weren’t meant for anyone but you.

For the first time in years, she was truly living—and so were you.

And the world was still watching, unaware of that shift.

The Fireflies’ world tour had shattered expectations, selling out in record time, each venue packed with thousands of voices screaming her name before she even stepped on stage. Articles hailed it as the tour of the decade. Fans camped outside arenas for days just for the chance to be there, to witness them in real-time. Every performance was electric, every setlist a journey, every night another testament to the fact that they weren’t just musicians anymore—they were a phenomenon.

You hadn’t planned on joining the tour—not at first. Your schedules rarely aligned, and even when they did, there was always another interview, another appearance, another commitment pulling you in opposite directions.

But then, against all odds, there was an opening.

A few weeks of unclaimed time—no press circuits, no obligations, just freedom.

And when she asked you to come with her, voice soft, fingers brushing against your wrist like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to ask, you didn’t hesitate.

"Just a little longer?" she had murmured, hopeful and hesitant, eyes flickering up to yours in the dim glow of her hotel room. "I just... I want you here. Pretty please?"

And how could you have possibly said no?

It was supposed to be one show. Maybe two. A brief escape, a chance to be with her without the constant press of cameras and expectations.

But then one show turned into another. And another. And suddenly, a week had passed, then two, and you had fallen into a rhythm that felt impossible to leave behind.

Cities changed, hotel rooms blurred together, flights stretched on endlessly—but none of it mattered. Because every night, the lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and she was there, bathed in neon glow, fingers weaving magic into guitar strings. And every time she turned her head mid-song, her eyes searched for you, always, always finding yours.

Backstage, she found you first. Always.

Her hands were on you before the door even clicked shut, dragging you into dressing rooms littered with half-empty water bottles, the scent of weed and sweat still lingering in the air. Her lips ghosted over yours in stolen moments between encore and afterparty, between exhaustion and adrenaline.

"Mine," she would murmur against your lips, against your pulse, against the curve of your shoulder as she pressed impossibly close. “You’re all mine.”

And for the first time, she wasn’t saying it for anyone but you.

Now, The remnants of last night’s party still lingered in your bones—loud music, flashing lights, the lingering taste of tequila and Ellie’s lips on yours in the middle of a crowded club.

The Fireflies had played to a sold-out arena in Seattle, the kind of show that left the whole city buzzing, and the celebration that followed had been nothing short of legendary. Shots had been poured without pause, bodies had swayed in the dim glow of neon, and Ellie had kept you close the entire night.

And now, neither of you really knew what time it is. The heavy hotel curtains swallowed the daylight whole, and your phones were lost somewhere in the mess of sheets and discarded clothes. It could’ve been minutes, or hours, or forever.

The room still smelled like the food you’d ordered earlier—warm, salty, comforting. You couldn’t even remember what it was now. The half-finished plates were still sitting on the room service tray by the door, forgotten the second Ellie had pulled you back into bed.

“Mm.” She hummed against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep. “This is so nice.”

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers combing idly through her messy hair. “Yeah, it really is.”

"Kinda wish the concert wasn’t happening so I could stay in bed with you."

She propped herself up on one elbow, tracing the curve of your jaw with her knuckles before leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

“You should stay longer.”

You sighed, heart sinking a little. “Ellie…”

She groaned, dramatically flopping onto her back like you’d just told her the worst news imaginable. “Don’t ‘Ellie’ me. You can stay a few more days. A week, even. No one’s gonna miss you THAT much.”

You shot her a look. “If I stay longer, Rachel will actually lose her mind.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed against the nightstand. You barely had to glance at the screen before groaning.

"Speak of the devil."

Ellie, ever the menace, snatched the phone from your hands before you could stop her. "Oh my God, let me answer it."

"Ellie, no—"

Too late. She swiped to answer and put it on speaker.

"Rachiee! Sweetheart! Light of my life! How are you?" Ellie crooned, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "We miss you sooo much!"

Rachel’s voice came through the receiver, flat and entirely unimpressed. "Put her on the phone before I destroy both of your careers."

Ellie grinned, completely unbothered. "Wow. Not even a hello? Ruuude."

She finally handed you the phone, stretching lazily like she had all the time in the world.

You sighed, bringing the phone closer to your lips as you slipped into your best fake sweet voice. “Heyyyy, Rach!”

“Finally,” Rachel huffed. “Please tell me you haven’t gone completely feral and run off with your little guitarist girlfriend permanently.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been, like, two weeks.”

"Exactly! Two weeks! That’s forever in popstar time! Do you even remember what a red carpet looks like? What a concert is? Or have you fully transitioned into rockstar mode? Should I start booking tattoo and piercing appointments for you?"

Ellie, listening in, perked up and wiggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, now that’s an idea."

Rachel ignored her entirely. “When are you coming back? Be honest. I need to mentally prepare myself.”

You hesitated, glancing at Ellie, who was watching you with a small, hopeful smile. "I don’t know. A few more days? I still have some time before—"

"You said that last week," Rachel cut in. "I swear to God, if you ghost me again—"

"I wouldn’t ghost you," you protested. "I’d just… delay."

Rachel groaned, audibly restraining herself. "Okay, look. I’ll give you five more days. Five. That’s almost another week. Then I’m calling in reinforcements."

You narrowed your eyes. “What does that mean?”

"It means that if you’re not on a flight back by Sunday, I’m personally calling your publicist and scheduling you for back-to-back interviews until your vocal cords give out."

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

Ellie, who had been listening with great amusement, turned to you with a smirk. "Damn. Blackmail? That’s cold. Even for you, 'Chel."

Rachel sighed, clearly so done with both of you. "I’m hanging up now. Enjoy your little love tour. Don’t forget you have an actual career. Oh, and send kisses to Dina and Jesse! Bye-bye."

The call ended with a beep. You tossed your phone onto the bed with a groan, burying your face in a pillow. 

"Ughhh, she’s the worst."

“She’s the best,” Ellie corrected. “But also, screw her. Stay longer.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. “You know I can’t. I’ve got promo, interviews, studio time—”

Ellie made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Ugh. Responsibility.”

“Yes, responsibility,” you teased, poking her side. “Not all of us get to run around the world playing shows and partying every night.”

Ellie scoffed. “Excuse you, we do very important work. Rock is a cultural movement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dina literally got so drunk two nights ago that she thought the hotel hallway was the stage and started doing an impromptu performance for the vending machine.”

Ellie snorted, fingers absentmindedly tracing lazy patterns on your bare back. “Okay, fair. But my point still stands.”

You sighed dramatically, dragging your fingers through her messy hair. “I wish I could stay forever, Els, but I can’t. Real life calls.”

Ellie made a low, disapproving noise and tightened her arms around you, pressing you flush against her. “Fine. But I’m gonna sulk about it.”

“You always sulk,” you pointed out, lips curving as you kissed her collarbone softly.

“Yeah, but now I have a reason.” Her voice dropped, husky and teasing, as she reached up and tilted your chin with two fingers. 

Her thumb dragged lazily over your lower lip, eyes flicking between your mouth and your gaze before she kissed you—slow, deep, like she was trying to rewrite your entire schedule with just her lips.

And honestly? It was almost working.

A soft, pleased sound slipped from your throat as she deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours in a way that made warmth pool low in your stomach. Your hands smoothed over her shoulders, nails grazing her skin just to hear the way her breath hitched against your lips.

You grinned and, without breaking the kiss, shifted to straddle her waist, rolling her onto her back in one smooth movement. Ellie let out a small, surprised noise but didn’t hesitate to settle beneath you, her hands sliding down your back, lingering before gripping your ass in a way that made you shiver.

“You’re trying to distract me.” she murmured, voice low, teasing. But you could feel how her fingers flexed against you, betraying the nonchalance in her tone.

You hummed, dragging your lips along the sharp line of her jaw, letting your teeth scrape just enough to make her exhale sharply through her nose. Then you kissed down the column of her throat, warm and wet and slow, biting down lightly at the spot just beneath her pulse point.

"Is it working?" you whispered sultrily against her skin before rolling your hips down against hers—slow and completely on purpose.

A sharp inhale. A low groan. Ellie’s hands gripped your ass tighter, fingers flexing like she was debating whether to pull you closer or pin you in place.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, voice rough, head tilting back slightly as your mouth dragged even lower. “If this is your idea of distraction, then—”

And then.

It happened.

The door. The godforsaken door.

It slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall, and before you could even process what was happening—

“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FU—”

Ellie jolted so violently she nearly kneed you in the stomach, hands gripping your waist like she was about to physically take you down with her in some tragic last-ditch effort to escape. Unfortunately, gravity had other plans.

In her desperate attempt to react—poorly, at that—she twisted awkwardly, sending both of you toppling off the bed in a tangle of limbs, sheets, and very bad decision-making skills.

You hit the floor with a thud, sprawled half on top of Ellie, dazed and breathless.

Not your most dignified moment.

Jesse stood in the doorway, made a strangled choking noise, and immediately shielded his eyes like he had witnessed a murder. Dina was right behind him, one foot in the room before she sensed the absolute depravity she had just walked into—and immediately spun to face the wall like she was repenting for her sins.

“Oh my fucking GOD.” Dina gasped so dramatically she sounded like she was about to faint.

“ARE YOU BOTH SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Jesse practically howled, clutching his head like he had just suffered irreversible psychic damage. “DO YOU KNOW HOW TRAUMATIZING THIS IS FOR ME? I CAN NEVER UNSEE THIS. EVER.”

Ellie, still flat on her back beneath you, scrambled for the sheets like a soldier diving for cover, yanking them over both of you in a half-assed attempt at modesty. You, frozen in pure horror, tried to adjust the fabric but quickly realized Ellie had essentially burritoed you into it in her blind panic.

“Ellie, let GO!” you hissed, fumbling for a better grip.

“I AM covering you!” she shot back, hands tightening protectively around the fabric. “Mostly!”

Dina, still very much facing the wall like she was in a confessional booth, smacked Jesse’s arm violently. “I told you to knock! But noooo, you just had to be all bro-y about it—”

Meanwhile, you and Ellie were still locked in a silent but intense tug-of-war with the sheets

"I DIDN’T THINK I’D HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT NUDITY AT NOON ON A WEDNESDAY!" Jesse shrieked. "I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING READY FOR SOUND CHECK."

Ellie, wild-eyed and defensive, shot back, “WELL, WE HAD OTHER PLANS, JESSE.”

“YEAH, NO SHIT.”

Jesse, still covering his face, took a cautious step backward. “I swear to God, if I ever—EVER—walk into something like this again, I’m deleting both of your numbers. I’ll pretend I never met you. I’ll move to another state.”

“You literally didn’t even see anything!” Ellie argued, still clutching the poor, wrinkled sheets against her chest like a scandalized Victorian widow.

“I SAW ENOUGH.” Jesse wheezed, voice cracking under the weight of his trauma.

Dina, still facing the wall, inhaled sharply through her nose. “Both of you. Clothes. Now.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, stubbornly holding onto the sheets. “You’re both still in the room.”

“BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T LET US LEAVE.”

“No one’s stopping you!” you pointed out, voice still slightly breathless from the absolute whirlwind of events.

Dina turned, grabbed Jesse by the sleeve like an annoyed babysitter, and yanked him toward the door. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

“Gladly.”

With one last, suffering groan, Jesse practically launched himself out of the room. Dina followed, but not before pausing in the doorway to shoot you both one last, deeply exasperated glare—like she was seriously reconsidering all of her life choices up until this exact moment.

Then, just as the door was swinging shut behind them—

THUD.

A loud, resounding bang as Jesse, in his blind panic to escape, ran face-first into the hallway wall.

A muffled curse. A few seconds of silence. Then hurried footsteps as they both disappeared down the hall.

The room was finally, blessedly quiet.

Ellie exhaled slowly, running a hand down her face before turning to you with an infuriating smirk.

“So, uh…” She nudged your thigh under the sheets, eyes glinting with amusement. "Guess we should… actually get dressed before the show."

Backstage hums like it’s wired to a live wire—techs zigzagging across the floor, lights blinking, last-minute mic checks echoing off the walls. Someone’s blasting the opener’s tracklist through a crackling monitor, but it’s all background noise. Your eyes are locked on Ellie.

She’s perched on a flight case, guitar slung across her chest, head down as she tunes with the kind of focus that could bend time. Calm. Steady. Jesse lounges nearby, casually spinning a drumstick between his fingers while Dina's aggressively fiddling with his in-ear like it personally betrayed her.

When you walk in, all three of them look up like they just saw a ghost—and unfortunately, they have receipts.

“Well, well,” Jesse says, eyes narrowing. “Survivor number two has entered the building.”

Dina doesn’t even blink. “Jesus. I thought I was past it. But nope. Flashbacks."

“You barged in!” you protest, cheeks already on fire.

“You didn’t lock the door!” Jesse counters.

“We did!”

“It clicked. That’s not locked.”

“Also, we thought you were sleeping,” Dina adds. “We didn’t expect National Geographic: Homoerotic Edition.”

Ellie groans, dropping her pick and muttering, “Y'all are insufferable.”

You cover your face. “I hate you both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jesse says. “You love us. Just maybe not as much as you love straddling our frontwoman while the blinds are open.”

“Yep. Blinds OPEN. Some poor guy on the third floor probably thought HBO was filming a new season of Euphoria.”

Ellie laughs under her breath, shaking her head as you shuffle towards her, mortified. She meets you halfway, her fingers brushing yours for just a second—quiet, grounding.

“They’ll get bored eventually,” she murmurs.

“Will we?” Jesse calls.

“Absolutely not,” Dina answers instantly. “I’ve already started the group chat. Title: Naked & Afraid: Ellie and Y/N Edition. First meme drops at midnight.”

You groan. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not,” Ellie says, bumping her hip against yours. “You like it too much.”

Someone yells five minutes from down the hall, and just like that, the air shifts. The jokes fade into muscle memory.

Jesse rises, spinning his sticks once before tucking them into his waistband. Dina slings her bass over his shoulder, jaw tightening as she gets in the zone. Ellie adjusts her strap and rolls her shoulders back, her whole body going still in that focused, ready way she always does before a show.

You step in front of her, ignoring the flutter in your chest. There’s a stray curl falling over her forehead, and you push it back gently, letting your fingers linger. She leans into the touch like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered.

“Kill it out there, love” you whisper.

She gives you that and stupidly hot half-smile that does unspeakable things to your heart. “For you? Always.”

Then she turns—and walks straight into the flood of stage lights, swallowed by the roar of thousands screaming her name.

The concert unfolds in a blur of sound and color, but Ellie... Ellie is impossible to blur.

She commands the stage like she was born beneath those lights—like the spotlight is her natural habitat, and the rest of the world just orbits her. The crowd knows it. Feeds off it. They scream for her until their vocal chords give out, hands lifted like reaching for something divine, faces lit up with the kind of awe you don’t fake.

Gold and crimson lights pour down from above, painting her in fire as her voice cuts through the air—sharp, aching, alive.

You’ve seen her play before. From the front row, from the wings, from the back of dim green rooms watching through grainy monitors. But somehow, it always feels like the first time. Like something’s knocking the wind out of you and you can’t stop chasing the feeling.

Because watching Ellie on stage is like falling in love in real time. Over and over again. Like your heart’s being rewritten to the rhythm of her guitar.

Behind her, Jesse is all swagger and muscle memory, pounding rhythm into the floor with a grin like he knows he’s killing it. Dina moves with that quiet, lethal grace—cool, controlled, grounding them all like gravity in a black tank top and boots. They’re tight, messy, magnetic. They’ve done this a thousand times, but tonight, they’re alive in a different way. Lit up from the inside.

And Ellie—she’s the center of it all. The fuse. The flame.

And even with thousands of voices calling for her, she still finds you.

Over and over, her gaze drifts sideways—to the shadows where you stand. A glance. A smirk. A lyric delivered softer than the rest, like a note passed under the table. Like a secret. Like a dare.

Then, between songs, just as the crowd’s scream builds like thunder, she edges closer to your side of the stage. Not enough to draw attention—just enough that only you can see the mischief in her eyes. That familiar, infuriating, heart-shattering little grin.

She leans in slightly, eyes locked on yours, and mouths it like a sin:

“You’re the only one I’m singing to.”

And you feel it—low in your stomach, high in your throat, blooming warm across your chest. Like she’s kissing you without ever touching you. Like she’s pulling you under with a single look.

She holds your gaze a second longer—just long enough to ruin you—then turns back to the mic, her voice crashing into the next lyric like she never stopped.

But you’re still standing there, heart pounding like a kick drum, skin buzzing with everything unsaid.

And you'd fall for her a thousand more times just to feel this again.

The moment your car pulls up to the club, you feel it—that wild, charged buzz in the air. It’s the afterparty, pulsing with leftover adrenaline from the show, and the second you step out, it’s like a spotlight snaps on. The crowd turns, eyes finding you instantly, tracking you like heat-seeking missiles.

Seattle’s nightlife is alive around you, neon lights cutting through the misty darkness, reflecting off the slick pavement like broken glass. The city hums, thick with movement, sound, heat. The bass from inside the club thrums through the walls, a deep, pounding heartbeat that seeps into your skin. 

But it’s nothing compared to the frenzy waiting outside.

Jesse steps out first, rolling his shoulders before throwing an arm around Dina’s shoulders. The second they hit the pavement, the flashes start. A rapid-fire onslaught of white light, camera shutters clicking in sync with the shouts already building.

Ellie exhales sharply, jaw tight, fingers twitching at her side. She’s used to this—so are you—but that doesn’t mean you like it.

“Y/N! Over here!” ““Ellie, is it hard performing love songs with your girlfriend in the front row?” “Y/N did she sing every song just for you or what?” “Huge night for both of you—what’s next for music’s golden couple?”

Her hand finds yours, fingers lacing tight, grounding herself in you.

And then—

“Ellie! You cool with dating someone who buys their awards?”

The words slice through the chaos like a blade.

The crowd keeps moving, the cameras keep flashing, but to you, everything goes still.

Ellie falters mid-step.

It’s small—so small that no one else would notice—but you feel it. The way her grip tightens. The way her muscles go rigid beside you.

She turns her head slowly, a deliberate, calculated motion. The kind of slow that sets alarms ringing in your head. The kind that means whoever just spoke? They just fucked up.

Ellie’s voice is low, but somehow still cuts clean through the noise. “The fuck did you just say?”

The paparazzi doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t back down. If anything, his smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this. Like this is sport. He shifts his camera, leveling his gaze at you like you’re an exhibit on display.

“Just saying, must be nice, huh? All that talent in the world, and yet—" He tilts his head, voice dripping with false sympathy. "Guess it helps when the game’s already rigged in your favor.”

Your stomach knots, but you don’t flinch. You’ve been in this industry long enough to give him what he wants—too good at swallowing the burn and keeping a straight face through it.

Ellie, though?

Ellie doesn’t give a fuck about playing nice.

“You wanna say that again?” Her voice is louder now, razor-sharp, dangerous.

Jesse mutters, “Oh, fuck,” and shifts closer. Dina watches, eyes flicking between you and Ellie, lips pressed into a tight line.

But the guy isn’t done. He shrugs, feigning innocence. 

“No disrespect, I just call it like I see it. Cute little popstar, riding high on all those industry favors. And hey, gotta give her credit—" his smirk deepens, cruel and cutting, "—she knows how to sell it. Flash a little skin, make the right people happy, and suddenly, she’s the biggest thing in the world.”

That’s when Ellie moves.

One second, she’s beside you. The next, she’s lunging.

Jesse barely catches her in time, his hands locking around her shoulders, yanking her back as she strains against him.

"You motherfucker!—" Ellie’s voice is a snarl, raw, venomous.

The pap flinches, just slightly, but he covers it with another smirk. “Damn, protective, huh?” He raises his camera. “Let’s get a shot of this. ‘Ellie Williams Loses It Over Question About Y/N’s Career’—catchy, huh?”

Ellie lunges again, this time so violently that Jesse stumbles back.

“You better shut the fuck up before I smash that camera over your fucking head.”

You grab her arm, your voice urgent. “Ellie, he’s trying to get a rise out of you. Don't listen.”

But she doesn’t budge. Her chest rises and falls in harsh, uneven breaths, shoulders squared, body thrumming with tension.

“Jesus, relax. No need to get your panties in a twist, sweetheart.”

His voice drips with mock sympathy as his gaze drags disgustingly slow down your body.

“I get it, though. She’s got the look, right? That pretty little face, those tight outfits—” He whistles, low and slow. “No wonder she’s everybody’s favorite.”

The he sneers, eyes flicking over you with open malice.

“What a shame. All that effort to make you every guy’s wet dream, and you’d rather be some dyke’s lapdog.”

And that’s the last fucking straw.

“ELLIE!” your voice rips out of you, but it’s too late.

Ellie doesn’t pause. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think.

Her fist connects with his face so fast, so clean, it barely looks real—until the sound hits. A brutal crack that slices through the chaos like a lightning strike.

The pap stumbles back with a choked grunt, hands flying to his face just as blood gushes between his fingers. He screams something garbled—half words, all rage—but Ellie’s already stepping forward, eyes blazing.

Jesse lunges forward, shoving Ellie back as the guy staggers, his fury bleeding through his shock. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

“You talk like anyone gives a fuck what you think,” she growls, her voice low and ragged, somehow cutting clean through the shouting, the flashes, the chaos. “You’re just a fucking pussy with a camera and a hard-on for women way out of your league.”

Security’s shouting now. Dina’s beside you, tense, pulling at your arm. Jesse’s got both hands on Ellie, holding her back as she surges forward again.

“Go write your shitty headline,” she growls. “And make sure you put in big bold letters that a dyke broke your fucking nose for talking shit about her girl.”

The pap takes a staggering step back, visibly shaken now—rage giving way to fear.

Dina grips your arm tighter, pulling you. “We need to go. Now.”

More cameras are snapping, more voices yelling. Security starts moving in, the club’s bouncers stepping forward to break things up.

You reach out, grabbing Ellie’s hand. Her skin is hot, trembling. You squeeze. “Ellie,” you whisper, urgent, steady. “Come on. Let's go.”

For a second, she doesn’t move.

And then her eyes meet yours—something in her expression cracking, softening just enough—and she exhales like it’s the first breath she’s taken since she swung.

She nods, lets you pull her away.

Inside, the club is dark and loud, bass shaking the walls, lights slicing through bodies in flashes of color. It should feel overwhelming—but next to the chaos outside, it feels like sanctuary.

Ellie doesn’t let go of your hand.

Not for a second.

Dina exhales, shaking off the tension. “Jesus, Williams. You wanna take it down a notch?”

“Take it down a notch?” she huffs, still flexing her fingers like she’s trying to shake out the ghost of impact. “He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him.”

Your grip tightens around her hand, tugging her close as you move through the crowd. She’s still wound tight, shoulders stiff, adrenaline thrumming through her.

You lean in, voice low against her ear. "Ellie, what the hell was that?"

She snorts, but the tension in her jaw doesn’t ease. "What? He was a piece of shit."

"Yeah, he was. And that last thing? He fucking had it coming." You exhale, shaking your head. "But you punched a pap, Els. This is gonna be everywhere by morning.”

Ellie tilts her head, lips curling at the edges. "You think I care?"

You glance at her knuckles, still faintly red, and sigh. "I think you’re impossible."

Ellie grins, sharp, wicked. "Nah, if I was really trying, I’d be in cuffs right now." Then, after a beat, she smirks. "And not the fun kind."

Despite yourself, you huff a laugh.

Ellie watches you for a moment, something shifting in her expression. Then, quieter, she mutters, “You know all he said was bullshit, right?”

Your breath catches.

Because, of course, you know that. You’ve heard worse. You’ve been in this game long enough to have every insult thrown at you from every angle. 

But hearing Ellie say it—hearing the fire still lingering in her voice, the protectiveness laced beneath her irritation—makes something warm curl in your chest.

You nod. “I know.”

She watches you closely, eyes scanning your face like she’s searching for something—any flicker of doubt, any sign that the words got to you. And if she finds even a hint of it, you know she’ll march right back out there and finish what she started.

So you reach up, fingers grazing her jaw, tracing along the sharp line of it, your touch gentle enough to soften the tension still coiled in her muscles. 

“Still, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Ellie exhales sharply, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Are you serious right now?” Her voice is low, incredulous. “You think I was just gonna stand there and let that piece of shit talk about you like that?”

You sigh, dragging a hand through your hair. “No, but Ellie—now the headlines are gonna be all about this. Not about the concert, not about us. Just about you throwing a punch.”

Ellie scoffs, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, still crackling with leftover adrenaline. “Good. Let ‘em talk. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before running their fucking mouths.”

You groan, rubbing your temple. “You are actually insane.”

She shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Takes one to love one.”

You shoot her a look, but there’s no real bite behind it. Just exasperation… and something else. Something warmer. Deeper.

“Yeah. You’re lucky I love you.”

Her grin softens, just slightly. That fire in her eyes doesn’t go anywhere, but there’s something gentler flickering underneath now—something only you get to see. Her hands slide down to your waist, fingertips pressing into your sides just tight enough to make your breath catch.

Her voice dips to a low, dangerous murmur, her lips brushing your ear like a secret she only wants you to hear.

“No one gets to talk about you like that. Not to your face, and sure as hell not behind it. Not while i'm breathing.”

You swallow, the words sending a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You should probably be embarrassed by how instantly and shamelessly turned on that made you.

Instead, you blink up at her, pulse rabbiting. “Is that so?”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and there’s something in her expression—protective, defiant, maybe even a little wild.

“I don’t care who’s watching. I don’t care what they write. You’re mine. That’s the only headline I give a shit about.”

Your stomach flips, heat curling deep and low. Your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “You got a problem with being this obsessed?”

She tilts her head, smirking. “Not if you don’t.”

You pretend to think, tapping a finger against your chin. “Mmm… no, actually, I think I love it.”

Ellie huffs a laugh, brushing her nose against yours, eyes bright with something fierce. “Good. Because if something like that happens again?” Her grip tightens, her voice dropping to a gravelly promise. “I won’t stop at just one punch.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re gonna get us both banned from every club in the country.”

Ellie grins wider, leans in like she’s about to kiss you, then whispers, “Worth it.”

And somehow, despite the chaos, the cameras, and the aching pull of everything else—you believe her.

The bass is still pulsing through the floor by the time you, Ellie, Dina, and Jesse regroup at the back of the club, far from the neon-lit drama near the entrance. Whatever happened with that asshole earlier is already fading into something distant, something half-laughed about under the thrum of low lighting and too many drinks.

You sink into the cracked leather booth, a drink in your hand that you definitely didn’t order, but Jesse shoved it toward you with a knowing smirk, so you drink it anyway. The ice clinks as you lean back, legs draped over Ellie’s lap. She doesn’t complain—just slides her hand over your thigh, casual, possessive, warm.

Dina’s laughing at something Jesse said, her curls wild under the strobe lights, eyes glassy from champagne and whatever she bummed off a stranger in the VIP section. “I swear to God, one of those paparazzi looked like he was about to cry when Ellie went full rage-mode.”

“His lens was shaking,” Jesse adds, holding his hands up like he’s gripping a camera. He mimics the tremble dramatically, then makes a wet, exaggerated sob. “She’s so scary.”

Ellie takes a slow drag from the blunt, eyes half-lidded, then exhales a thin stream of smoke towards the ceiling, like she’s bored with the entire planet. “Good. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before running their mouths for clicks like the desperate little bitches they are.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. There’s a glow in her, something loose and dangerous, but it’s not sharp like it sometimes is—it’s smooth, easy, like a song settling into the perfect rhythm. Her thumb moves in slow, lazy circles against your thigh, almost absentminded, like you’re her anchor. Like she needs the contact.

She’s watching you again.

She does that a lot. You’d noticed it before, but lately, it’s been different. Less teasing, more intent.

Like she’s trying to hold on to something that might slip through her fingers if she blinks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say, trying to keep your tone dry.

“Like what?” she murmurs, head tilting, that smirk already tugging at her mouth.

“Like you’re trying to decide if you want to kiss me or eat me alive.”

Ellie grins, leaning in, her breath warm against your skin. “Why choose?”

Jesse snorts beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “Oh my God, you two are giving me PTSD about today’s incident. Can we please do something else before someone starts dry-humping on the furniture?”

You roll your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, and reach for your drink. The last sip burns as you swallow it down, warmth spreading through your chest.

And that’s when you see it.

The small, discreet bag between Ellie’s fingers.

It’s quick. Effortless. No theatrics, no hesitation—just an easy flick of her wrist, tapping a neat, familiar line onto the back of her hand before lifting it to her nose. A sharp, practiced inhale. Blink, exhale. Done.

Dina follows suit, just as fluid. Jesse, already smirking, dips his pinky into the powder, rubbing it against his gums before tipping his head back with a satisfied hum.

It happens in seconds. Like breathing.

Ellie barely reacts, barely changes—just lets it settle into her system with an easy stretch of her neck, fingers drumming lazily on the table. Then she turns to you, smirking like nothing happened.

“You want some?”

You freeze for half a second.

It’s so casual. So normal. They’re not sneaking around, not whispering about it in some dimly lit back room. They’re doing it here, in the open, in a VIP booth where anyone with eyes could see.

And no one cares.

You glance between them, heartbeat ticking up. Jesse and Dina are already moving on, Jesse stretching like he just cracked his back, Dina stirring her drink. Ellie just watches you, waiting, tapping the blunt against the edge of the ashtray.

The whole thing is so… easy.

Your stomach tugs.

You shake your head. “I’m good.”

Dina grins, bumping her knee against yours. “You sure? Might take the edge off.”

You scoff, shifting back against the booth. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

They laugh like it’s the funniest thing they’ve heard all night, like you just made a joke.

Maybe, to them, you did.

Jesse raises a brow, looking you over. “Wait, hold on.” He squints. “You really don’t do anything?”

You frown. “I drink. I smoke."

“Barely.”

Ellie tilts her head, amusement tugging at her mouth. “Love.” She gestures vaguely between them, between Jesse rubbing his gums and Dina fixing her lip gloss. “You really never noticed?”

You blink. “Noticed?”

Ellie exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You never even thought about it?”

Jesse huffs. “Come on. Like we’re that subtle.”

Dina hums, sipping her drink. “I mean, think about it. Late nights, early flights, rehearsals, shows, interviews, afterparties—it’s a lot. You kinda have to even the playing field, y’know?”

Jesse gestures between the three of them. “It’s not even a thing. It’s just… part of it.”

Ellie shrugs, flicking ash from her blunt. “Part of the job.”

You stare at them.

You know this kind of thing happens. You’ve heard the stories, seen the headlines.

But it’s different when it’s right in front of you.

When it’s Ellie.

She’s watching you now, eyes a little sharper, movements a little looser. Reading you.

And you’re trying to read her back.

You let out a slow breath. “I just never... thought about it, I guess.”

Ellie leans forward, chin resting on her hand, smirking. “You’ve been in this industry for how long, and you never noticed?”

Jesse snorts, shaking his head. “Better question—how the hell have you never tried it?”

You blink. “I just… haven’t.”

Dina gives you a look like you just told her you’ve never had coffee before. “Not even once?”

Jesse whistles low, shaking his head. “That’s crazy.”

Ellie raises a brow. “Babe. Every celebrity does it.”

You roll your eyes. “Not every celebrity.”

Jesse holds up his hands, ticking off on his fingers. “Actors, musicians, models, producers—every single one.”

Dina leans in. “You’d be surprised. The clean-cut ones? The ones with all the brand deals and wholesome PR campaigns? Yeah. Especially them.”

Ellie smirks, exhaling smoke. “You think the people pulling sixteen-hour shoots and touring for months straight are just running on coffee and vibes?”

Dina swirls the ice in her glass. “Not saying you have to, but… if you’re really gonna be in this world, you should probably at least not be surprised about it.”

You exhale, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

They’re not pressuring you.

But they’re looking at you like you’re the weird one here. Like you’re missing something.

You let out a slow breath. “I guess I just figured…” You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Ellie tilts her head. “Figured what?”

You swallow. “That you guys didn’t—” You shake your head. “I don’t know. That you didn’t need to.”

Dina gives a soft, almost pitying smile. “It’s not about need.”

Jesse gestures vaguely. “It’s just what it is.”

Ellie watches you for a second longer, then reaches for your hand. Her fingers trace slow, lazy circles against your thigh.

"Look," she says, voice quieter now, just for you. "If this bothers you, I—"

"I didn’t say that." You squeeze her fingers before she can finish, grounding her right back. "I just… wanted to know."

Ellie tilts her head, searching your expression, reading you the way she always does. You can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out where you're going with this.

After a moment, she exhales through her nose and smirks, though there’s something softer underneath it. "Babe, it’s not a big deal. I promise."

You hesitate, glancing between her and the others. Jesse and Dina are talking between themselves now, already moving on like this is the most normal thing in the world. And maybe, to them, it is.

Ellie squeezes your hand, bringing you back to her. "It’s just casual. I mean, fuck, it’s not like we’re doing lines off the bathroom floor or some shit." She grins, trying to ease the moment, but there’s a carefulness to the way she’s looking at you.

You exhale through your nose, tilting your head. "So, what? You just do it… sometimes?"

Ellie shrugs, leaning back against the booth. "Yeah. When it fits. Long nights, afterparties, when there’s, like, a million things happening and I don’t wanna feel like a corpse the next morning."

You press your lips together. "And it never…" You trail off, not really sure how to finish that.

Ellie’s smile falters slightly, just for a second, before she shakes her head. "It never what?"

You hesitate, but then—fuck it. "...Gets out of hand?"

Ellie’s brows lift slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to go there. Then she snorts, shaking her head. "Jesus, babe. No."

"You sure?"

Ellie leans in, eyes flicking between yours. "I swear." She taps her fingers against your thigh, deliberate, measured. "This isn’t some cautionary tale. I’m not about to spiral and throw my career away."

She smirks, but it’s small, almost like she’s testing to see if you’ll smile back. "I know what I’m doing."

You watch her for a second, taking in the way she holds herself—calm, easy, unbothered.

It’s not like she’s high out of her mind.

She’s still Ellie.

The same one you love.

But still…

"I just never thought you…" You shake your head. "I don’t know. Needed it."

Ellie tugs at your fingers. "I don’t need it. It’s not like that."

"But you do it."

Ellie lifts a brow, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice. "And you drink. Same shit, different form."

You roll your eyes. "Not the same."

Ellie shrugs, smirking. "Depends who you ask."

Before you can argue, Jesse leans in, elbows on the table, like he’s just caught the tail end of something interesting. "What, is she giving you the responsible popstar speech?"

Ellie grins, nudging your knee. "Trying to."

Dina hums, sipping her drink. "Classic. Like when someone tries to pretend they’re above caffeine until they pull their third all-nighter and suddenly they’re double-fisting espresso shots."

Jesse snickers. "Or like when someone says they’re not a smoker, but you catch them bumming cigarettes when they’re drunk."

Dina points at him. "Exactly."

Ellie turns back to you, smirk still in place. "It’s not some dramatic, life-ruining thing, love. It’s just a thing."

You hold her gaze, searching for something—some flicker of doubt, some hesitation.

There isn’t any.

She believes what she’s saying.

And maybe she’s right.

Maybe you’re just making this into something it isn’t.

Maybe it really is just part of the world you’re both in.

A part you never noticed before.

A part you’ll have to get used to.

You exhale, slow, measured, and give Ellie’s fingers one last squeeze before pulling back.

"Alright."

Ellie watches you for a second longer, then nods, satisfied. "Alright."

And just like that, it’s done. No tension, no fight. Just a question asked and an answer given. A conversation tucked away, filed under things that don’t need to be thought about too hard.

Just another unspoken rule of the world you’ve found yourself in—the world of flashing cameras and private booths, of long nights and endless afterparties, of things done in the quiet corners where no one is really looking. It’s not a scandal, not a secret, not something to sound the alarms over. It’s just a thing. A thing that happens, a thing that exists. A thing you tell yourself doesn’t change anything.

Because Ellie is still Ellie. And you are still you.

And yet—something lingers. A feeling you can’t quite shake, something threading itself between the words left unsaid. Like a song playing in the background, too quiet to fully catch, but impossible to ignore.

Because if it were really nothing, if it were really just a thing, then why does the room feel different now? Why does the space between you seem stretched just a little thinner, pulled a little tighter? Like a thread has been tugged loose, unraveling something neither of you are ready to acknowledge.

This world is big. Bigger than you ever imagined.

And maybe, just maybe, some things are easier to pretend not to see.

And for a second—just a second—you forget.

The flashing cameras. The too-loud whispers. The weight of something unsaid curling at the back of your mind, asking questions you don’t want to answer.

And the other thing—the thing that made your stomach flip earlier—

That?

You push it under the surface.

Bury it beneath the music, beneath the flashing lights, beneath the warmth of Ellie’s hands on your waist.

Because what’s the point in thinking about it?

They’re used to this. They’ve got it controlled. It’s not a big deal.

So you don’t think about it.

You don’t let it pull at the edges of your mind.

You just dance, you just drink, you just laugh, and you tell yourself that's enough.

The music pulses through your body, a bone-deep rhythm that makes it impossible to focus on anything except the moment. Or maybe that’s just the liquor. The shots Jesse kept handing you. The heat of the dance floor, the press of bodies, the slick feeling of how Ellie keeps you close, always touching: a hand ghosting your hip, her fingers brushing the nape of your neck, her mouth near your ear, murmuring things too filthy or too sweet to repeat.

There’s a hum in your veins—not quite sobriety, not quite drunk. Just a loose, liquid feeling, like you could float if you let yourself.

She spins you lazily at one point, grinning like a hopelessly in love idiot, and you crash back into her chest with a laugh, breathless and dizzy. You don’t even notice the phones pointed your way anymore.

Ellie’s mouth brushes against your ear. “You’re killing me in that dress,” she murmurs, voice just barely audible over the music.

You smirk, tilting your head back to expose your neck, teasing. “Good. I want it to be slow and dramatic. Maybe in the middle of one of your solos.”

Ellie laughs, warm and real, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your jaw. You feel her smirk against your skin.

Nearby, Jesse and Dina reappear, looking equally buzzed and glowing under the club lights. Jesse immediately slings an arm over your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “Alright, pop princess, you’ve been hogging our frontwoman all night. Let’s make some bad decisions.”

Ellie scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, like the ones you made on stage tonight?”

Jesse places a dramatic hand over his chest. “I was in the moment.”

“You almost fell off the drum riser,” Dina deadpans, sipping her drink.

“Almost,” Jesse corrects, pointing at her.

Dina just grins and flicks his ear.

The four of you dissolve into laughter—the kind that bubbles out of you too fast, too loud, soaked in tequila and something looser, softer. The kind that only happens after too much truth has already slipped out between kisses and choruses.

And then it hits you.

You grab Dina’s hand. “Come with me.”

She stumbles a little as you yank her through the crowd, weaving past bodies lit in flickers of purple and gold, right up to the DJ booth.

The DJ is tall, lanky, with bright blue hair that glows under the LEDs and round sunglasses that haven’t left his face all night, despite being, very obviously, inside.

“You got a request?” he asks, smirking.

You lean against the booth, grin lazy. “Play something off Louder Than Fate.”

He turns his head to eye you with practiced disinterest—until he really sees you. He freezes. His fingers go still on the mixer, eyes narrowing slightly. Then his jaw drops.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

You tilt your head, amused.

He points like he’s just put something together. “You’re Y/N.”

“In the flesh,” you say, leaning into the booth, smug and a little buzzed.

“And you came with The Fireflies?” His gaze darts past you, searching the crowd until he locks onto Ellie, who’s standing with a drink in hand, shirt sticking to her back, lip caught between her teeth like she already knows you’re up to something. Neon halos her hair. She looks like trouble in the kind of way that writes its own songs.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. Then, quickly, “Yo, I need a picture.”

You laugh. “Sure. You play my songs.”

His grin is instant. “That’s how it is?”

“Celebrity tax.”

He groans dramatically, already queuing up a track. “Y’all are savages.”

He leans in, voice conspiratorial. “Think she’d let me grab a photo too?”

You glance back at Ellie. Smirk.

“Keep the setlist good, and we’ll think about it.”

The DJ groans like he’s being tortured. “Y’all celebrities are ruthless.”

But the grin never leaves his face as the opening riff of I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor (click to hear) slams through the speakers.

The reaction is nuclear.

The club erupts.

The energy flips like a switch—higher, wilder, like everyone in the room has been waiting all night for this exact song. Bodies surge toward the center, arms shoot up, and the lyrics are shouted before the first verse even hits.

Back in the crowd, Ellie’s head snaps up. She sees you at the booth and just grins, shaking her head like: You little shit.

Jesse lets out a roar, throwing both arms in the air like he’s in a mosh pit. Dina yanks you into a triumphant hug, both of you practically vibrating with joy, and then you’re sprinting back into the thick of it—into the chaos you caused.

“Wait!” the DJ calls after you. “Do I still get my picture?”

“Keep playing bangers and we’ll talk!” you shout, already disappearing into the storm of bodies.

The moment stretches, long and bright and loud.

You sprint back to the floor, twisting through the chaos until you find Ellie.

She’s already reaching for you.

Already pulling you in like gravity.

“Hijacking the DJ?” Ellie says as she pulls you into her chest, her voice low, a little slurred from the tequila, vibrating straight through your ribs.

You laugh, looping your arms around her neck, flushed and breathless from the rush of dancing and impulse and her. “Just wanted to hear something good.”

Ellie leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her words dipped in amusement. “You know I wrote this song about you, right?”

You blink, confused, and then let out a scoff of disbelief. “You did not.”

“I did. Swear on my favorite guitar.”

You pull back just enough to see her face. “You’re kidding.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Come on. Think about it. ‘Stop making the eyes at me and I’ll stop making the eyes at you’? You don’t remember the night we met?”

Your stomach does a slow, stunned flip.

“You were at the bar, trying so hard not to look at me. Kept turning away like I wouldn’t notice you watching. And I remember just... freezing. You looked unreal. Like—fuck.” She exhales a laugh. “You were the hottest girl I’d ever seen in my life.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

“You were drinking some radioactive shit—bright green, probably illegal in five countries.”

“Tequila with lime,” you say automatically, almost dazed.

“Right. And before I knew it—”

“We were outside,” you finish for her, voice soft.

Ellie nods. “Heading to my hotel.”

Outside the bar. On the sidewalk. Where she’d stopped you halfway through a flirty, messy laugh and kissed you so hard it rewired something in your brain.

“You were freezing in that little red dress,” she says, her voice dipping a little, remembering. “Arms all tight across your chest, shoulders hunched like you were trying to hold yourself together.”

You blink. “Wait—that’s why you gave me your jacket? I thought you were trying to be cool.”

“I was trying to be cool. But I was also trying to keep you from turning into a popsicle before we got to the room.” Ellie nods, smug. “That line? ‘Your shoulders are frozen’? It’s not metaphor. It’s literally what I said while trying not to stare at your tits.”

You laugh, hiding your face against her shoulder. “That was so long ago.”

“And I still think about it,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, fingers trailing lazily along your spine.

You glance up at her, heart thudding a little too hard against your ribs. “You didn’t even like me back then.”

Ellie gives you a look. One that’s sharp and tender and a little too honest.

“Didn’t I?”

You open your mouth—but nothing comes out. Because you know better now. You know what was tucked into all those half-finished demos and unsent voice memos. You know what she never said out loud but always let slip in the bridge.

You remember the nights you’d crawl into each other’s hotel rooms, hearts too full, too afraid, too something—and the mornings after, where you both pretended it didn’t mean anything. Pretended it was casual. Temporary. Disposable. Fake.

And then you’d each go write another verse you’d never show the other.

“How many songs did you write about me?” you ask, softer now. Your voice is low, nearly drowned by the music and the crowd. “I only guessed For Your Love.”

Ellie smiles, slow and a little dangerous. “Half the album.”

You freeze.

“What?”

She shrugs, like it’s nothing. “R U Mine? was about you. Fell In love with a girl? So obviously about you. So was See You Soon. I wrote that after you ghosted me for a week and I convinced myself you didn’t feel the same. And I could go on and on”

You’re staring at her like she’s just confessed to a crime. “You never said anything.”

“You never asked.” She shrugs, but her voice is gentler now. “Besides, Jesse kept calling me pathetic. He made me write My Own Summer just to get it out of my system.”

“Did it work?”

Ellie snorts. “No. I literally started the song with "Hey you, big star".”

Before you can even think of something to say—something clever or biting or half-sarcastic like you used to—the beat drops out. The energy shifts.

The lights dim to a sultry haze of violet and gold. And then—

That synth. Your synth.

Smooth and slow, thick as honey, spilling through the room with the kind of deliberate seduction only a song that means something real can pull off.

You’re singing the lyrics under your breath before you can stop.

“I'm so into you... I can barely breathe…”

Into you.

The opening lines melt through the room like syrup, and the crowd responds instantly. Bodies turn. Sway. The mood shifts—less chaotic, more sensual. The lights dim down to a violet haze, and the bass settles into something you can feel in your ribs.

Ellie looks at you like she’s time-traveling. Like she’s hearing the lyrics for the first time and understanding what they meant all along. In the way someone does when they remember something visceral.

“And all I wanna do… is to fall in deep…”

She keeps watching you with that half-lidded stare—the one that used to drive you insane when you were pretending you didn’t want her. When she’d sit on your hotel bed, tuning her guitar in nothing but a sports bra and boxers, and ask you for feedback on a verse that was clearly about the way you moaned.

She leans in close, her mouth grazing the shell of your ear.

“You really let them play this one?”

You shake your head, voice tight. “I didn’t. DJ picked it. Guess he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Ellie scoffs softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Or maybe,” she murmurs, “you just get everything you want.”

Her hand slides down your spine, a warm line anchoring you to her in the middle of all the noise.

You take a breath. It doesn’t help.

You exhale. “You knew it was about you, right?”

She doesn’t even blink. “I knew before you finished writing it.”

“You wanna know the worst part?” you murmur, quieter now. “That wasn’t the first one.”

“I know.”

You blink at her. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Ellie’s fingers drag slowly up your bare arm, warm and deliberate.

“Shameless was the first one that tipped me off. Then Touch it. Don’t Blame Me wrecked me a little. But Southbound?” She gives you a pointed look. “That’s when I knew for sure. And that’s when I texted you.”

You groan instantly, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god. Please don’t bring up Southbound—”

She laughs, eyes gleaming. “You wrote a song about going southbound on someone, and then included that track—our track—like it accidentally fell into the folder during mixing.”

You peek through your fingers. “It fit the concept…”

“It absolutely did not. Your whole album is pop ballads and moody synths, and then suddenly we get this dark, throbbing, sex-drenched detour with breathy vocals and moaning layered under the chorus.”

“I edited it—”

“You didn’t,” she cuts in. “That pitch analysis on TikTok? Mortifying. You even left in the part where you gasped my name and laughed after.”

“I thought it sounded natural!”

“It sounded like porn, babe.”

You groan again, louder this time. “I hate everything.”

“No you don’t.” She moves in closer, her voice dropping, teasing. “You love that it went viral. You love that people know how you sound when you—”

“Ellie.”

She smirks. “—sing, obviously. What else would I mean?”

You glare at her through the haze of embarrassment, but your heart is thudding too hard for it to land. Because underneath the jokes, the heat, the teasing… you know what she’s saying. You know what she heard in those lyrics, in that bridge, in the vocal layering you obsessed over at 3am because it needed to feel exactly like her hands on your skin.

You wanted her to notice. You always did.

Ellie tilts her head, studying you like she’s still discovering you, even after all this time.

“You wrote about me,” she says quietly. “Again and again.”

You nod. “Every time I saw you, I wrote another verse.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment. Just brushes her thumb over the inside of your wrist, like she’s reading you in braille.

Then, softly: “God, we're pathetic”

“No,” you say. “We’re artists.”

She snorts. “That’s even worse.”

You laugh, but it’s shaky. “Yeah. But at least the music’s good.”

She pulls you closer, presses her forehead to yours. You close your eyes.

And then she kisses you.

Right there in the middle of the dance floor, while your song plays in the background like a confession you’ve already made. Her lips are soft, sure, and full of every verse you didn’t dare share until now. And when you finally pull back, she’s smiling in that slow, crooked way that means she’s already plotting something.

“I’m gonna write another one about you,” she says, breath warm against your cheek.

You smirk. “Make it the horny kind. Those go platinum.”

Ellie laughs, rough and gorgeous. “Fine. But the bridge is gonna be disgusting.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Then she kisses you again—harder this time—and the lights flicker violet across her skin, and this time you don’t think about the people watching.

You just think about her hands on your waist, your voice in the speakers, and the sound of your own heartbeat finally, finally syncing with hers.

The night is a blur of neon lights and bad decisions, smeared like lipstick across the face of the city. It stretches out in front of you like a fever dream—loud, sweaty, glitter-soaked chaos that you somehow keep surviving. The four of you are well past tipsy, teetering on the edge of blackout like it’s a competitive sport, and you're definitely winning.

Ellie hasn’t let go of you all night. She’s glued to your side like she’s afraid someone’s going to walk off with you. Hands constantly touching—your hip, your thigh, the inside of your wrist. Brushing your collarbone like it’s a secret. And her eyes? Locked on you like she’s trying to memorize your face for later, just in case the tequila wipes everything else clean.

Jesse is conducting what he refers to as a "scientific study," stacking coasters on Dina’s head while she argues with the bartender about whether or not he looks like Pedro Pascal. It gets to six before she slaps them all off with a growl and tries to shove one directly into Jesse’s mouth.

“You’re so fucking ANNOYING,” she huffs, palm in his face, shoving him back into the booth.

Jesse just grins, pleased with himself. “You love me.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice.”

At some point, the club starts closing down around you. Lights go up, music down, and suddenly everything looks a lot more chaotic under full illumination. You're all blinking into the brightness like newborns.

And then—because you're either brave or just phenomenally stupid—someone suggests walking back to the hotel. Probably you.

So you do.

Jesse insists on leading the way like he's your drunk, wobbly tour guide. “To our left,” he slurs, gesturing at a dented trash can, “A beautiful relic of modern civilization. Observe its curves. Its majesty.”

“Shut up,” Dina wheezes, clutching your arm, nearly bent over in laughter. “My stomach hurts.”

Ellie snickers beside you, steady despite the way she keeps tugging you closer, like you’re the thing keeping her upright. “Jesse, if you fall into that thing, I’m leaving you there.”

“You’re such a bad friend,” Jesse grumbles, immediately tripping over the curb like it heard him talking shit.

You nearly faceplant too, but Ellie’s there before you even tilt forward, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you close with a smirk. “Careful, rockstar.”

You lean into her, cheek against her shoulder, grinning. “M’not a rockstar.”

She tilts her head like she’s genuinely thinking it over. “Right. Just the biggest popstar on the planet.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes—but you’re smiling like a fool.

By the time you crash through the hotel lobby doors, you’re a full-blown public safety hazard. Dina’s ping-ponging between furniture like a malfunctioning Roomba, pausing only to yell, “I’m fine!” every time she careens off a decorative pillar.

Jesse’s found a captive audience in the night desk clerk and is passionately explaining how, if he “just had the right mentor,” he could absolutely become a professional stuntman—like, today. He even does a high kick for emphasis, nearly pulling something in the process.

Meanwhile, Ellie has given up entirely on decorum. The you both step in the elevator, she pins you to the mirrored wall with all the subtlety of a horny teenager in a bad coming-of-age film. Her hands sliding under your dress with the kind of urgency that suggests she’s forgotten other people exist entirely.

“You,” she breathes, voice rough and drunk and worshipful, “are so fucking pretty.”

"And you," You let out a soft laugh, tipping your head back. “are so fucking drunk.”

Ellie grins, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You don’t even remember who kissed who—it’s just tequila and heat and breathless laughter, her lips tasting like whatever cocktail you last shared and her fingers curling into the fabric at your hips like she’ll die if she lets go.

Somewhere behind you, as the elevator doors start to close—

“DON’T FORGET TO HYDRATE AFTER ALL THE RAW, ANIMALISTIC SEX!” Jesse hollers, practically singing it like a PSA.

Dina nearly doubles over beside him, wheezing. “DESTROY HER, ELLIE! I WANNA HEAR THAT HEADBOARD FROM THE LOBBY!”

Ellie chokes on a laugh, flips them off with both hands this time, and buries her face in your neck. “I hate them,” she mutters, giggling uncontrollably. “I actually hate them.”

But her hands are sliding under your dress again.

“I think they’re rooting for us,” you breathe, grinning.

“Yeah, well…” she nips your jaw gently. “They’re not the ones about to get lucky.”

The elevator dings, and the two of you spill out into the hallway like a disaster in motion—tipsy, breathless, half-sober and wholly tangled. You’re giggling too hard to walk in a straight line, stumbling into the wall, then into Ellie, who nearly takes you both down with her.

“Key,” she mutters, smacking at the pockets of her leather jacket with the urgency of someone searching for buried treasure.

“You’re making this impossible,” she grumbles, squinting down at the card in her hand like it personally wronged her—because you’re behind her now, arms looped snug around her waist, lips brushing over the side of her neck in a slow tease.

“I believe in you,” you murmur solemnly, the kind of mock-serious declaration only achievable at this level of inebriation.

“That’s not helping!”

She finally gets the card to register on the third try—barely. The lock beeps with mercy, and Ellie stumbles into the room backwards, yanking you in with her by the lapels of your coat. You trip over each other’s feet in the dark, colliding into the bed in a clumsy sprawl of limbs and laughter.

You land in a heap—half on the mattress, half on each other—laughing so hard you can barely breathe, tangled up like it’s instinct, like the world has always ended this way: with Ellie’s arms around you, her face buried in your neck, and both of you drunk off more than just alcohol.

Ellie doesn’t bother sitting up—just pulls you down into her like gravity, lips already finding yours with a hunger that hits you like a wave. It’s messy and hot, teeth clashing, laughter spilling into breathless moans.

It tastes like tequila, your lip gloss and the kind of recklessness that only happens when you’re too far gone to pretend you’re not completely obsessed with each other.

The alcohol makes everything heavier—your limbs, your breath, the way her hands roam like they’ve been dying to for hours. She’s everywhere at once: sliding under your dress, up your back, into your hair.

“Fuck,” she mutters into your mouth, her voice low and rough. Her head tips back against the pillows, eyes flicking over you like she can’t believe you’re real. “Look at you.”

You laugh softly, pressing kisses to her neck, her jaw, the edge of her smile. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t,” she breathes, catching your face between her hands. “You’re drive me insane.”

You kiss her deeper this time—less playful, more desperate. You shift in her lap, your dress riding high on your thighs, and her hands slide up under the fabric like she owns you.

“Take this off,” she mutters, tugging clumsily at the hem.

“You first,” you whisper, tugging her shirt over her head. It sticks a little, and you both laugh trying to get it off, her hair a mess and her eyes glazed over with want. You reach for the zipper of your dress next, dragging it down slow, teasing.

Ellie groans when it slips off your shoulders, her gaze dark and locked on your chest like she’s never seen anything better. “Fuck me,” she says, almost reverent.

She pulls you close again and kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, her lips trailing fire in their wake. Then her mouth closes over your breast and you gasp, hips stuttering against her thigh, as she sucks—slow and filthy—teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch before her tongue soothes the mark.

But she doesn’t stop there.

Her mouth roams, leaving kiss after kiss, then deeper, darker sucks—her signature stamped into your skin. She bites, just hard enough to make you gasp, then kisses the spot better, her hands roaming freely over your body like she’s trying to memorize every inch. Hickeys bloom across your collarbones, your neck, the softest parts of your chest—every mark a reminder that she was there, that this happened.

One hand stays gripped tight on your ass, the other tangled in your hair, guiding you, holding you still like she doesn’t want to miss a second of watching you fall apart.

You curse under your breath, head falling back as her mouth drags lower again, her teeth grazing another spot just above your heart.

You gasp, clutching at her shoulders, her hair, anything you can reach. “Ellie—fuck, you’re gonna leave marks.”

“Good,” she growls against your skin. “Wanna see them tomorrow. Wanna know I did this.”

You grind down without meaning to, and she groans, mouth hot and possessive as it finds the other breast with the same hungry focus.

“You're so fucking hot,” she mumbles, lips brushing the edge of another bruise she just left. “I could do this all night.”

You're not even sure what you say in response—it's just a noise, half-whimper, half-laugh, your fingers threading through her hair, your body buzzing under every kiss, every bite, every mark she paints into your skin.

When she finally looks up at you again, her lips are wet, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes blown wide with nothing but want. “C'mere,” she says, voice wrecked.

Ellie shifts lower on the bed, settling between your thighs like she’s been there a hundred times and never got tired of it. Her palms press against the inside of your legs, coaxing them open with slow, steady pressure. She looks up at you from under her lashes—flushed, breathless, reverent.

Her voice is soft but rough with heat. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

You can’t answer. Your throat’s too tight, your heart’s pounding too hard. All you can do is nod, your fingers curled in the sheets, already trembling with anticipation.

She kisses the inside of your thigh first. Then again, a little higher. And again. Her mouth trails up until she’s exhaling warm against you, her breath ghosting over where you’re aching for her most. You twitch, and she smiles.

“Relax,” she murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

And maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s her voice, but you melt into the mattress, pliant and aching, thighs trembling with anticipation.

When she finally leans in, her breath is warm against your skin, and you shudder. Then her tongue flicks out, just barely, a teasing stroke that makes your hips twitch. She hums at the reaction, hands tightening on your thighs.

She starts slow. Long, deliberate licks that make your head spin. Her tongue traces every inch of you like she’s mapping it to memory—each movement unhurried, deliberate. It’s not just about getting you off. It’s about making you feel every second of it.

It's the kind of touch that says I know you. The kind of touch that makes you feel known.

And then she does something that makes your breath catch completely.

You feel her tongue shift—patterned, careful—and realize she’s spelling something.

E. A slow upward curve, then back down and across.

L. Two smooth strokes, top to bottom, then across.

You gasp, hips bucking slightly, but she doesn’t let up. Doesn’t even flinch.

L. Slower this time, as if she’s enjoying the way your thighs tense around her shoulders, the way your hands fist in the sheets.

I. A single confident stroke. Clean. Sharp. Precise.

E. Again. A bit sloppier now, a little rushed, like even she’s getting impatient.

“Jesus,” you breathe, fingers threading into her hair like you’re trying to anchor yourself. “Did you just spell your fucking name?”

She pulls back for half a second—just enough to flash you a crooked grin, lips glistening, eyes dark. “Damn right I did.”

You let out a breathless laugh, somewhere between disbelief and arousal. “You’re such a showoff.”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you remember it.”

You grip the sheets tighter. “Like I'll ever forget.”

Ellie just smirks and dives back in—deeper now, hungrier. She wraps her arms around your thighs and locks you in place like she has no intention of letting you go until you’ve completely unraveled.

Her mouth works you open with maddening precision—tongue circling, flicking, pressing in slow waves. She licks into you like she’s starving, like there’s nothing else in the world worth tasting. And when her lips wrap around you and she sucks, slow and deep, you swear you see stars.

You moan her name, not caring how loud it is. She groans in response, the vibration shooting through your whole body, making your back arch off the bed. You’re panting now, thighs trembling around her, heartbeat wild in your chest.

She hums again, smug and wrecked and totally in control. You feel her shift. One hand leaves your thigh and slides down, slow and steady. Her fingers trail through the mess she’s already made of you, slick and hot and ready.

Then one finger slips inside—deep, confident, curling just right.

You cry out, back arching, your whole body jolting with the shock of it. She doesn’t let up—her mouth still moving against you, tongue stroking in time with the rhythm of her fingers. It’s like she’s everywhere at once—her mouth, her hands, the weight of her body pinning you in place.

“Ellie,” you gasp, and it sounds wrecked, wild. “Fuck—”

“I’ve got you,” she says again, but this time it’s lower, darker, like a promise. “Let go, baby. Let me.”

She pushes in deeper, adds a second finger, the stretch making your eyes roll back. Her tongue never stops, her mouth working you with maddening, perfect precision. She moves slow and steady, curling her fingers just right, dragging them over that spot that makes your whole body lock up.

You’re shaking now, gasping, barely tethered to the world.

“You feel so fucking good,” Ellie breathes against you, voice reverent, ruined. “So wet f'me.”

She starts moving faster—mouth and fingers in perfect rhythm—sucking, licking, curling inside you like she knows exactly what you need before you can even ask for it.

The pressure builds and builds and then suddenly crests—hot, explosive, overwhelming. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, tearing the air from your lungs. You cry out her name, fingers clawing at her shoulders, your whole body locked in ecstasy.

She doesn’t stop right away—keeps helping you through it, slow and soothing now, like she’s savoring the way you fall apart for her. Like she’s proud of it. When she finally pulls back, her mouth is slick, her chin glistening as she cleans her fingers with her mouth, expression dazed and hungry and smug as hell.

She crawls back up over you and kisses your neck, your collarbone, your jaw.

You’re wrecked—body humming, chest rising and falling like you’ve run a marathon—but she still climbs up the bed like a woman on a mission, pulling you close, cradling your face in her hands like you’re the most precious thing she’s ever touched.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, voice hoarse, your fingers tangled in her hair. “You’re...”

Ellie kisses you—deep and slow, tongue sliding against yours, letting you taste yourself on her mouth.

“I know,” she says smugly when she pulls back, brushing her thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m incredible.”

You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re so full of me.” She smirks, eyes gleaming with heat and mischief. “We’re both winning.”

You groan and drag her in for another kiss, already aching again and not even remotely ready for it to be over.

Ellie seems to feel the same way.

Because her hand’s already sliding back between your legs—gentler this time, just a soft, teasing brush of her fingers—and her voice drops to a whisper against your lips.

“Think you’ve got one more in you?”

You don’t even hesitate.

“For you?” You kiss her again, biting her lip just hard enough to make her growl. “Always.”

Ellie’s mouth is still hot on your skin when she pulls back, eyes burning as she looks down at you.

“Turn over,” she says, voice low and wrecked. Commanding.

You don’t hesitate. You roll onto your forearms and knees, heart pounding, skin flushed. The sheets are cool beneath you, but every inch of you feels overheated from the inside out.

You hear her moving behind you, the soft rustle of straps and leather and breath. When she runs a hand up your back—slow and firm—you arch instinctively, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Ellie moves with purpose—hands rough as they roam over your ass, up your back, into your hair. Then her hands are back, gripping your waist so tight it borders on bruising.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you. “Fucking perfect like this.”

You try to turn your head to look at her, but her hand slides up and wraps around your throat—firm, commanding, never cruel. She doesn’t squeeze, just holds you there, grounding you, controlling the space between anticipation and impact.

Your breath catches, a broken little sound tearing from your throat.

"Fuck," she groans, and you feel her lean in, her mouth dragging hot and slow along the back of your neck. "You make me lose my mind."

She snaps her hips forward, and even though you were bracing for it, the stretch still punches a sound out of you—deep and surprised and wild. Her free hand spreads over your lower back, keeping you steady, keeping you hers.

“Atta girl,” she breathes, voice frayed and thick with want. “Take it.”

You do. You take every inch, the air knocked from your lungs with every sharp thrust. It’s rough, almost feral, but there’s something reverent behind it—like she’s worshiping you with every motion, even if her grip is bruising and her rhythm relentless.

Your hands claw at the sheets, legs trembling, moaning into the mattress with every snap of her hips.

Then her hand tightens at your throat, just slightly, and your world narrows to her body, her heat, her voice in your ear—low and filthy and full of awe.

“Been wanting you to be mine for so long,” she pants. “Thinking about it every time you smiled at me like I didn’t wreck you the night before. Every time you said it was fake.”

You whimper, the words hitting harder than anything else. Your whole body tenses, overwhelmed, your head falling forward.

Ellie leans down, lips dragging along your shoulder as she slows just enough to make you feel it. “But you’re mine now. You know that, right?”

You nod, the motion barely there, desperate and delirious. “Yes.”

She groans—guttural and raw—and slaps your ass hard enough to make you jolt.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, wrecked and breathless. “I’m yours, Ellie.”

And then she thrusts deeper, slower, like the words wrecked her a little, like she’s not just fucking you now—she’s feeling you. Claiming you, not just with her body but with every part of her that’s ever been yours.

Her grip on your throat tightens just a little—not enough to scare, just enough to make you feel it. Her hips drive into you harder now, the bed rocking with the force of it, every thrust a sharp reminder of how much you want her, how much you need her.

The rhythm grows more frantic—sharp, breathless, urgent. Each thrust sends the headboard thudding against the wall in time with your gasps, a steady, relentless beat that fills the room along with the wet sound of skin against skin and the guttural way Ellie moans your name.

Your hands grip the sheets, the mattress, anything you can reach, but nothing grounds you like her. Nothing anchors you the way she does when one hand slips into your hair, tangling tight, and yanks you back with just enough force to make your breath catch.

She pulls you upright, flush against her chest, her mouth hot and open at your shoulder, your neck. The strap presses deeper inside you at the new angle, and your entire body shudders.

“Look at me,” she pants, voice ragged, forehead pressed to your temple. Her grip stays firm in your hair, holding you steady as her other hand slides possessively up your stomach, over your ribs, to cup your breast. “I want you to know exactly who’s fucking you.”

You can barely breathe, barely speak—but you nod, gasping as your body rocks against hers, every thrust dragging a helpless sound from your throat.

The headboard bangs louder now, the whole bed creaking beneath the force of it. But neither of you care. Ellie’s everywhere—her scent, her voice, the heat of her skin against your back, the way she’s buried so deep inside you it feels like she’s burned into your bones.

And even in all the chaos, the sweat and the noise and the wild, reckless pleasure of it, there’s something underneath it all—something tender. The way her lips find your shoulder in between every gasp. The way her voice breaks when she says your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Like loving you is the most dangerous, beautiful thing she’s ever done.

You’re falling apart—moaning, gasping, trying to stay upright as pleasure surges hot and overwhelming through your veins. Ellie’s cursing behind you, rhythm breaking, voice rough and wrecked and beautiful.

When it happens—when the second orgasm crashes over you like a wave—you scream her name, body convulsing, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. And she keeps going through it, fucking you through every aftershock, like she can’t bear to let the moment go.

Eventually, you both collapse—your body limp and trembling, hers heavy against your back, breath ragged against your shoulder.

For a while, it’s just the sound of your breathing, tangled limbs, sweat-slick skin.

Then she turns your face gently to hers and kisses you—slow and deep and tender, like a promise. Like a confession.

“I love you,” she whispers, quiet and raw.

And you don't hesitate.

Not even a second.

“I love you too.”

Ellie is dead asleep beside you, her body heavy with exhaustion, arm still draped over your waist like she fell asleep mid-claim. Her breath is slow and steady against your shoulder, hair a tousled mess over the pillow, lips parted just slightly. She looks peaceful—blissfully unaware of the storm still quietly buzzing beneath your skin.

You lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, blankets tangled around your legs, your heart still not entirely calmed. The room smells like sex and sweat and her perfume, and for a while, that’s enough to keep you in the moment. But the silence starts to stretch. And somewhere between the warmth of her skin and the cooling air on yours, your mind slips.

You think of the club. The lights. The music. The drinks. The way she kissed you like you were everything she has ever wanted. The way her hand had slid into yours. The way her eyes had sparkled when she made you laugh.

And then—brief and sharp like a static jolt—you remember the booth. That little baggie. That casual, practiced motion. A snort. A wipe of her nose. The way she’d looked at you right after—like it was nothing.

Because to her, it was nothing.

You swallow hard and turn onto your side, facing away from her. The sheets feel too heavy suddenly, like they’re pressing into your chest. But you force your breath to slow, your eyes to close. You remind yourself that she’s here, asleep next to you. That tonight was good. That everything feels okay right now.

It’s not a big deal.

Just a moment. Just something that happened.

You tell yourself again, and again, and again, until the lie starts to sound almost true.

And eventually—maybe out of exhaustion, maybe out of denial—you let yourself drift off, wrapped in the illusion of safety, in the warmth of her body curled unconsciously into yours.

Because loving her feels so easy.

And forgetting?

Even easier.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 → taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag  @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaiii2 @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982 @shady-lemur @jubileexoxo @l0velylace @look-me @adoringanakin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @st4r-b3rries @liasxeatt @desiretolive @rios-st4rs @miajooz @hotpinkskitties

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[whatifitis]

♡ you happened - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Did I just... fall in love with the worst person to fall in love with?! *crashes out in a grocery store*

WC: 2565

CW: fluff, friends or something to lovers, use of swear words ☝, joke about death/banter, also not proofread and I've veen awake for almost 24 hrs and my last sleep was 4 hours long :D

Your whole life, all you ever heard was “Oh the two of you are so cute together!”, “Just wait, you two were meant to be”, “Never say never!”

Everyone, your family, his family, neighbors, even staff at restaurants and cafes you frequented thought it. Spoken as if it was written in the stars that you and Lando Norris were fated. You’re not kidding when you say that both your families have placed bets on when you two would finally end up dating… turns out the person who gets closest to the day will win $1,000. 

At first, it didn’t really bother you. It was quite easy to get on with life and ignore their antics. But as you grew older, it stopped being a little joke or little bits of hope within them. When you started dating your first boyfriend in high school, your family audibly sighed when you introduced them to him. The audible sigh was only the start as well. Soon they were making sly comments about how your boyfriend didn’t have green eyes like Lando or curly hair. 

When your family continued their behavior with the second boy you brought home, you stopped introducing them. 

The pressure didn’t just affect you and your love life. After some time, you and Lando stopped talking. After being inseparable since you were practically born, the two of you were pushed apart because of your families and their incessant need to hope for something truly insane. 

You think it had been about 9 years of no contact before you and Lando had reconnected. And the only reason that you two had found each other again was because you needed a new roommate and Lando was lonely…

It was awkward at first. The two of you had grown up and completely changed as people. The interests and hobbies you once had as children were now nonexistent in your lives today. Everything has changed: your favorite colors, foods, and movies. 

It took quite some time, but now you two know each other better now. Though Lando is rarely in the city where you two live, he’s always home when he’s there. The man never leaves the house and it was quite concerning at first. You wondered if he was deficient in vitamin D. The doctors probably thought he went out less than a vampire. 

The one thing that really helped the two of you to bond, besides having mandatory hangouts at least once a month, was when you had been infected with a cold and had somehow shared it with Lando. The two of you were almost bedridden for a week. To make sure neither of you would need to be sent to the emergency room, camp was set up in the living room. Who knew being cramped together in the same room for a week would make the two of you best friends again. 

Not only did you guys relearn each other's favorite colors and movies, but now you know his favorite video games and what his life is like. Lando also got to learn about what you studied in university and how you once duetted ‘Everyday’ from High School Musical 2 with Phoebe Bridgers at a bar in Manchester. After sharing this information, Lando had mentioned the fact that he had never seen any of the High School Musical movies. Sure his sisters had played it in the house as kids but he never paid any mind to it. Naturally, you forced him to watch all 3 movies and now his favorite song is ‘You Are the Music in Me’, HUMUHUMUNUKUNUKUAPUA’A was a close second though. 

And because you had forced him to watch all the HSM movies, he made you play some video games with him. After some debating, he had decided that the two of you would play ‘It Takes Two’. He claimed it was a great way to “create moral” and “bond” with each other. The only thing you had gathered was that you and Lando would make a terrible team no matter what you two were doing. 

Sports? Someone would break the other's nose by accident. Video games? A controller was going to get broken. 

You had also learned that the both of you liked to taunt and poke fun at each other in a way that would make others concerned. 

-=+=-

“Don’t you think it’s romantic? Dying for each other?” Lando said, leaning his head back to look at you and smiling cheekily. 

“I’d rather kill you myself, thanks.” you say, rolling your eyes and making Lando let out a chuckle. The chuckle then leads to a coughing fit. This in turn made you laugh and now then the both of you were having a coughing fit. 

Through coughs and grasps for air, Lando said “Karma, bitch.”

Some gaslighting from you may have followed after you’d hit Lando in the face with a pillow. 

“Lando, I swear. The pillow just levitated on its own and hit your face.”

-=+=-

You were sitting in the kitchen, working on your laptop when Lando came in and wandered over to the fridge. You watched as he opened the fridge, analyzed its contents for approximately 2 seconds before closing it and turning to look at you, “Heyyyy, y/n.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you respond “Heyyy, Lan.”

“So, uhm. Do you wanna go to the market with me? I need something for quick meals and snacks and I could use some company.” 

“You could use some company or are you still scared of the pigeons outside the market door?” you question. 

“Hey! Those beasts are out for blood! I swear on my future dog's life, TWO of them came for my head last time I went.” 

“Sure, big man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you say as you stand and walk over to pat his shoulder, “You’re driving though. These narrow roads make me wanna swerve into oncoming traffic.”

“Deal.” Lando says as he follows you out the apartment door. 

-=+=-

Lando had already parked the car and the two of you were walking to the doors of the market. You watched Lando try to “sneakily” tiptoe through the market doors, keeping an eye out for any potential threats (pigeons…). 

He was just halfway through the door when a customer in the store had accidentally dropped a box of cereal. Lando tripped and nearly fell before catching himself and trying to brush off the fact that as a grown man, he was terrified of birds. 

“Smooth.” you tease “Smooooth.”

Lando grabs a basket and walks quickly further into the store. Think it's to say he was at least a little embarrassed by what had just happened. By the time you managed to catch up to him, he was already at the opposite end of the store, browsing the tampons.

“Lan?”

“Yeah?” he says as he turns his attention back to you. 

“Is it that time of the month or something?”

“Nah. Just… looking…observing.”

“Right. I’ll just go and grab some crisps.” you say, pointing somewhere behind him. 

“Oh sick! I’ll go with you.” he says, skipping down the aisles. 

As the two of you debated between some of the options of crisps, the song being played in the market had changed and you’re confident that everyone had heard the gasp that escaped Lando’s mouth when he heard the opening notes of ‘You Are the Music in Me’. 

Before you could even register what was happening, Lando had dropped the basket on the floor and grabbed an abandoned whisk off a shelf, using it as a makeshift microphone for his performance. When it was Gabriella’s turn to sing, Lando turned the “microphone” to you, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. 

Reluctantly, you sang your bit, making a smile erupt on Lando’s face. Half-way through the song, Lando was running and jumping up and down the aisle, dancing and lip syncing to the song. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. You were also laughing at the realization that he was so embarrassed of being startled by cereal that he ran through the store to hide, but now he’s openly performing in the middle of the store, not caring who could be watching and judging. 

God, I’m in love… shit. 

No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

No way you were in love with Lando Norris. You were never going to live this down. Some people in your family will be $1,000 richer. They will comment on this for the rest of your lives. You will have lost. They will have won. This was forever going to be something they would use against you. 

Fuck. 

After a minute, Lando had noticed the sudden change in your emotions. One second, you were laughing and smiling brightly at him and with him. The next, your face had dropped and turned to stone. Did he do something? Were you embarrassed? Of him?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Lando questioned, concern drawing his features. 

Too embarrassed to be truthful, you tried to think quickly and faked being agitated. 

“Yeah, you happened. Dumbfuck.” you say as you trudge past the man. 

Lando’s heart dropped. What did he do wrong? You’re clearly upset but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

He watched your back drift away and out the door of the market, standing with his feet planted in one spot, unable to move and chase after you to make sure you were okay. 

-=+=-

What the fuck did I just do? You thought as you leaned against Lando’s car, rubbing your hands down your face in frustration. 

This is insane. How are you in love with him? You mean,  it’s not that there’s anything wrong with Lando and liking him. But why did you have to be in love with him? Why must you be cursed with eternal mocking and teasing from yours and his family? 

And what were you gonna tell him? You were happy one second then mad the next. You almost yelled at him and ended up pushing past him, hitting his shoulder with yours pretty roughly. You crashed out in the middle of a grocery store…

Before you could come up with a game plan on how to explain this to Lando, or atleast come up with a good lie, Lando was already walking to you and unlocking the car. All he did was spare a quick look at you before getting in the car with the groceries. For the split second your eyes met his, you couldn’t decipher how he was feeling or what he was thinking. It was almost as if there was nothing there. 

When you opened the car door and dropped into your seat, he didn’t say a word. He barely paid you any mind. The whole drive back to the apartment was filled with an uncomfortable silence. His eyes trained on the road, never once moving off the road. If you were in the car any longer, you’re sure you would’ve suffocated under the weight of uncertainty. 

-=+=-

You walked into the apartment with Lando carrying the groceries, tailing you. Not only was the car ride spent in eerie quietness, but so was the walk to the apartment from the car. 

You heard as the front door clicked shut, standing by the kitchen counter and fiddling with your hands and tempted to pick at your nails, a bad habit you’ve had for years. 

Lando put the groceries onto the counter and flicked his eyes to your hands for a second “Stop picking at your nails. S’not good for you.”

Thank god. He spoke. So he’s not upset with you?

You watched as the man leaned his hands against the counter before speaking “So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he says calmly. 

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong.” your voice pitched higher than normal. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m not the smartest person but I’m not stupid either, y/n.” 

“I didn’t say you were.” 

“Okay, so tell me what’s wrong. Everything was fine and then all of a sudden your face and mood had dropped. Not only that but you stormed out of the store after telling me that I happened?” he says, trying not to take his frustration out on you. Though you think he should for the way you had behaved. 

“I- I’m fine, Lan.”

“Stop lying. Please. I don’t like lies, especially not from you cause I can tell when you’re lying. You’re a terrible liar.”

Your jaw drops, “Am not!”

“Please. Remember when you ate that last spring roll and you tried to convince me that a squirrel came in through the window and stole it?”

“Okay, well. I see your point.”

“Exactly” he breathes out “So, what’s wrong? Why are you lying to me?”

With a deep breath and a ‘yolo’ you confess “I think I like you.”

“Why do you sound distressed?”

“Because this is distressing.” you rasp. 

“Why?!”

“Lan, you know our families and their incessant need to butt into our lives and force us together. If they found out, I would never live it down. My whole life, I’ve had to fight the allegations. But now?! Now they will forever taunt us with this information. Also I feel the need to point out that some people will be $1,000 richer because of this. Do you really want to give them that? Do you, Lando? Do You?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Well, I mean… would it be that bad?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I think it would be okay? Like, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. And so what if they tease us for this? It just means that they maybe did some voodoo or paid an etsy witch… or we really are meant for eachother.” Lando says, his voice getting softer the more he spoke, as if he was afraid. Afraid of your reaction, what you would say, how you would feel. 

“I- I mean. There’s nothing wrong with it? I guess it’s just unexpected. And things like that make me panic. I think I blew this really out of proportion.” you wince. 

“Ya think?” Lando laughs “You stormed out the market and almost caused a scene.”

“Yeah… I also didn’t get my favorite ice cream and I’ve been craving it for ages.” 

“Oh, well… I actually got it for you. I remember you saying you’d been craving it and wanted to get you some. It was one of the reasons I asked you to come with me to the market. I also ended up getting it cause I thought it would be brownie points for if I had actually done something wrong. I also got brownies… for extra brownie points.” he, totally nonchalantly, winks at you. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad. You’ll be his and he’ll be yours and it will be simple. You truly did feel a lot for him, which was scary. But it’ll be worth it. It will also be worth all the teasing from your families and friends. When you’re with him, you still get butterflies and that in itself makes up for the lost time. And you won’t lie, you’d missed all those years spent apart. Now you’ve got each other and that’s all that matters. From kids to teenagers to adults, everything changed except for one thing, the love you had for the other.

[chososbabymama]

Boyfriend!Sukuna who has a habit of saying ‘no’ when you ask him to do something as he immediately gets up to do what you asked.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who buys your pitbull a thick gold chain, ‘so the other dogs at the park take her seriously.’

Boyfriend!Sukuna who SWORE he wasn’t interested in your silly little tv shows but sits with you every Sunday to watch South Central Baddies.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who has a habit of chewing on things (bottle caps, pen caps, straws, etc.) so you buy him flavored toothpicks after he chewed the bottom of your favorite pen.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who bought you a huge bouquet of flowers because he knew you’d been feeling depressed the past couple of weeks and he missed seeing you smile.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who openly expresses his love for the way you handle Yuji, treating his nephew more like a son (Yuji definitely calls his uncle ‘dad’, and it makes both of you beam with joy each time).

Boyfriend!Sukuna who took great pleasure in being able to provide for you, taking you on trips, paying for your hair, treating you to dinner. In his mind, it was his way of saying thank you for taking care of him and being there . Always making sure Yuji was taken care of, doing the grocery shopping, not to mention you doing your own work for graduate school, Ryomen Sukuna would be a fool to not show you how much he valued you and your efforts.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who doesn't care to impress your folks. He knew he was a brash man, a little rough around the edges, that he wasn't the type of person your parents imagined you'd end up with. It'd taken 4 shots of Tito's and winning gin rummy against your father for them to start opening up to him (your favorite part of that night was when they'd decided to do a duet and sing I Like It by DeBarge)

Boyfriend!Sukuna who remembers your first date, how nervous he was sitting across from you that night. The poor man had spilled his glass of water all over himself because he was so nervous (he’ll deny it was nerves and claim the waiter bumped the table), accidentally stepped on your toes under the table (several times), and even caught part of his jacket sleeve on fire from reaching over the tables candle. What broke him was when he tried buying you flowers on the way home to try and make up for it, you BOTH were horrified to see hives suddenly break out on your skin and find out through a late night ER trip that your were allergic to that specific flower. Sukuna wont admit this either but he cried like a baby in your hospital room and again when you talked later and said you still wanted to go on a 2nd date with him (appalling luck aside, the date went extremely well).

Boyfriend!Sukuna who likes to bite you. He’ll be lying on your stomach while you use his back to read your book, when you first feel him start to suck on your tummy you don’t think much of it. As soon as you feel teeth you move your hands and look down to see your boyfriend with your tummy LITERALLY in his mouth, wide red eyes boring into yours as if you weren't essentially being used as a chew toy.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who'd gotten your name tattooed around his ring finger after your 7th date.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who was more excited than you when building your first pillow fort, arranging several pillows and blankets around you both to make a nest of sorts (he wasn't at all amused when you'd asked him if his omegas heat instincts were kickin in)

Boyfriend!Sukuna who feels the square velvet box burn a hole in his pocket. His fingers drum against the table anxiously as he watches you play with Yuji, wondering if you wanted the same things he did. But suddenly, you and his nephew turn in his direction. You’d taken one of Yuji’s hands and waved it his way, both of you having wide smiles on your faces as you giggle and tell the young boy to, “say hi to big grumpy!” At that moment Sukuna knew there was no way in hell he'd let another day go by without putting a ring on your finger.

Husband!Sukuna who watches you and Yuji make a house for the gingerbread family in the kitchen. He watched with adoring eyes as the boy in your arms picks up 3 gingerbreads, all decorated differently. With a wide, toothy grin Yuji proudly shows them to the tall man; declaring that, "dad! dad! guess what? it looks just like us! Do you like it?" The pink frosting smudging both of your cheeks, hair being held back by silly cartoon headbands, the fondness Sukuna felt for the both of you. He made his way to the kitchen island, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other to ruffle his boys hair before pressing a kiss to the crown. Nodding and gazing at you both with adoration, he coos out a sweet "Yeah little guy, I fuckin love it."

[mournings-stars]

Maybe the wrapping wings around heddies but the reader wraps their wings around the characters?

okay i rly like this but what about with characters that don’t have wings?? (lmk if yall want characters w wings cus this is kinda silly funny haha)

charlie

she loves when your wings wrap around her — every time she hugs you, she’s waiting for that extra warmth and when it comes she just hugs you even tighter

she wouldn’t ask you to do it, but if you put a wing around her in public she’s trying not to get too excited

cuddling is a must for wings. you’re sitting on the couch? she wants a nice feathery blanket. lying in bed? same thing. watching a scary movie? she’s using your wings as a shield to duck under anytime theres a jump scare

if you asked her if she’d like a wing, she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her

“im starting to wonder if you’re just dating me for my wings,” you’d joke and she’d laugh and say, “they’re definitely a plus” while running her finger over the top of one (this girl likes to tease i know it)

she loves when you cuddle up to her and wrap your wings around her, like she just melts

she does not let anyone play with them. ever. if niffty tried to go scurrying around them, she’s taking her away faster than she can blink

your wings are hers as much as they are yours, but that’s a silent rule between you two that she doesn’t plan on voicing

she just gives “let me be your wings” from thumbelina vibes like you would have a duet like that

alastor

now if you ever need to gossip, he’s clearing his throat and you’re shielding your conversation with your wings while you two laugh and whisper

he does not want anyone touching him but if you put a wing around him he knows you guys have some important business to talk about

sometimes you throw up your wing, whisper, and he has to stop himself from laughing when you quickly put your wing down, alastor batting it with his microphone as you laughed

now if he’s ever hurt, that’s when your wings go around him, making sure no one sees so he can escape to saftey

you’d always come to his rescue even if he got mad at you for it, wings wrapping around him as you struck his attacker faster than he could summon his shadows (and he definitely gets pissed about it but hey what are … friends …. for!)

wings are for shit talking and the occasional life saver when it comes to al

angel dust

he loves the security of your wings

after a long day, you’d just lie in his room, wings wrapped around him as he held you close — he’d either fall asleep or want to sit in silence like that, but either way you were happy to help

sometimes you’d just sit at the bar, wing around him as you talked and laughed together

whenever you went out together, your wings were a strict barrier that no one dared to cross. you put a wing in front of angel when some guy approaches him? he and every other demon are backing off for the rest of the night. you’re walking down the street? wing around him and no one is approaching you

he definitely asks you to do it (in his own very special way) and he likes to tease you when you’re around other people

but you both know he treasures the safety your wings give him

pentious

my boy pentious 100% thinks you’ve turned against him the first time you drape your wings over him — you could’ve literally been sleeping and he’d accuse you of trying to smother him

“i was sleeping!” “your subconscious mind plans to kill me, too!”

he warms up to it though because the next time it happens you’re fast asleep and theres no attempt to block his airways, or whatever he thought you’d do, so he snuggles into the warmth

being a snake (i love snakes im gonna b a lil nerdy about this one) pen likes to burrow. especially at night. he’d start to curl up under the warmth of your wings and rest there until you eventually moved

some days you’d wake up and he’d be completely hidden beneath your wings. if you lift one, he’d very quickly tug it back (definitely how he found out about sensitive wings)

he felt very bad :(

cherri

wings are for parties!

they give you the best dance numbers — dramatic reveal, awesome poses, super dope flying routine…!

then they’re for comedowns because once you’re home from the club shit hits the fan and you’re wrapping your wings around her so she can even try to sleep

but then the morning comes and you brush it off cus it’s time to blow shit up!

definitely using your wings as a shield though — they’re probably dyed pink and red by now, with all the times you’ve had to cover the two of you from explosives

but she finds it super hot so…

velvette

she likes to fuck with you

1000% uses them as her personal armor — you’re basically a body guard

she’ll wrap them around herself while looking in the mirror, modeling your wings like a feather coat

“my wings are not going in your collection,” you’d have to tell her, still pulling her closer with them as you met her eyes in the mirror

“yeah, guess you’re right. can’t have anyone else getting a hold of these, can we?”

she loves being wrapped in them while she sleeps — she loves you sleeping next her, cause then she can lay them however she wants

it’s always best when you’re wings fold in and bring her closer though

definitely been used for a private moment in the office

she says they’re your best asset

vox

now this man is, under no circumstances, letting you wrap your wings around him

in public? absolutely not…

in private? well…. no! totally not!

at least not until you’re asleep and he’s situating himself beneath them. it’s not his fault a feather blanket helps him fall asleep

you’ve definitely waited until he fell asleep, draped you wings over him, and watched him relax into them

he’s not slick

like at all

not even in public

he’ll touch them and the minute one even wraps around him, his screen is buffering

speaking of in public… just wait til you’re at a party. he’s drunk and all over you, touching your wings, handling them like their his own, you have to use them to shield the two of you when he gets too handsy, and he loves it; pushing your buttons until your wings are around him and being more than satisfied by that

niffty

girl is crazy

she cleans them, climbs on them, inspects them (almost rips the fuck out of your feathers)

there’s no way you can wrap that girl up, she’s too quick

but she would love petting them and thats why shes here

[igotanidea]

Bumpy road: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one with the first fight.

***

They were warning her.

*They* as in pretty much everyone – family, friends, even strangers on the street.

They were warning her that every relationship hits a rough path sooner or later. That the honeymoon phase cannot last forever. That arguments, fights, misunderstandings and other rocks on the yellow road of Oz are about to happen.

Like she was a kid, not knowing that already.

Of course she was aware of all that! Hell – her parents had enough of a clash of characters and silent days to somehow immunize her against it.

She thought herself ready for the stormy days, making a bucket list of things she wouldn’t do with Jason.

Like *not going to bed angry* or *talking through things* or other silly and completely immature naïve things.

Well – having a plan and putting it into action turned out to be two completely different things.

***

The shy sun on the sky, gentle wind and little white fluffy clouds were nothing of a sign of an impending torment.

Y/N was walking back home from work, having taken a few hours for a personal leave with a set date of working it off. Though if it meant spending 10 hours in the office on Thursday to have some more time with Jay on Friday, so be it. 

Absolutely worth it.

Not even fighting the happy smile forming on her face, thinking about the little surprise she had planned for him, she rode along the streets humming the songs coming from the car radio.

Even their shabby apartment in the shitty district of Gotham seemed more vibrant for no reason.

“Jay? Jay, I’m home!” her bag landed on the rack, shoes on the shelf, coat in the wardrobe. “babe? You’re here? Oh – oh, Jay, what happened?”

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the space, fidgeting with his phone, but not paying any attention to whatever might have flashed on the screen. Anyone else might have been fooled, after all Jason always seemed a little detached and immersed in his own thoughts, especially when he was alone. Y/N was not one of those people, seeing through him almost instantly.

“Hey?” The soft sound of bare feet on the floor approaching him from the side finally threw him off and back into reality. 

“Hey.” No smile, no sparkles in the eyes, no sign of acknowledgment. Only a slight flinch as if he was trying to pull back and away from her.

Y/N frowned.

“Jace-“

“I’m busy.” His gaze immediately fell back onto the screen, scrolling mindlessly, finding himself a substitute occupation.

“With what?”

“God, why are you being so nosy?” Jason rolled his eyes, not stopping whatever was so interesting.

“Nosy?”

“Yes, nosy. I’m browsing, ok? How do you think I get the fucking intel for patrolling?”

“Through a Facebook page?” she tried to crack the joke.

“Yeah. That too. Do you want to go through my texts now? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No, of course no. What’s with the hostility?”

“I’m not fucking hostile.”

“Right… Not at all.”

“I just need some freaking silence, is that too hard to understand?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” It was shockingly difficult to say those words, considering the fact she made quite different plans for the afternoon, but apparently the relationship also required compromising. Even if the meaning of the word was forgetting about oneself all together, all for the benefit of the other half of the duet.  “I’ll go get us some snacks, hm? And maybe I could help you with – “

“Whatever.”

Oh, okay. He wasn’t hostile, he was indifferent.

Or maybe just busy.

Right, right, of course, just busy, it was okay. First time for everything, even ignoring her.

She could understand it, obviously, being understanding and giving him necessary space like any considerate girlfriend would.

***

Shit broke free three days later.

Any target group asked would unanimously agree that Monday mornings were absolutely the worst, and external circumstances had nothing to do with it. The loads of easy work from Friday that could be left and handled on Monday suddenly became increasingly difficult and seemed to multiply.

99% of people liked that.

Y/N was no exception.

Good humor? Gone.

Optimistic attitude? Lost.

Exhaustion? Skyrocketing.

Sudden thirst for blood and unparalleled rage? Present.

Incoming storm in her relationship….?

Yeah… Inevitable.

***

It was like the entertainment replay.

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space, fidgeting with his phone… yadda, yadda, yadda.

Only this time she had zero patience and zero strength to handle it, heading straight to the bathroom, wiping her makeup, cleaning her face.

Standing in front of the mirror, removing the mascara, the foundation, putting her hair in a messy bun, slowly transforming back into her domestic version.

Just. Wanting. Some. Rest.

Meeting with an angered, almost reproachful look on her boyfriend’s face.

Once again, trying to be sympathetic.

“Hi.”

Jason grunted.

“What’s going on?” she tried again.

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh for crying out loud!”

“Stop being a bitch.”

“a – a bitch? I’m sorry, what the-“

“Yes, bitch. You heard me right. You’ve barely been giving me attention lately!”

“Attention!? What the hell, Jason!? You’ve been AWOL!”

“I’ve been here all the time!”

“In body! But sure as hell not in mind! You spend eight hours in front of the phone and computer on Saturday!”

“Did you go through my PC?” he took a step back, fury in his eyes taking her by surprise.

“What? No! What is this about!?”

“Did you go through-“

“Jason!”

“Did you!?” he half-yelled and all her resolutions about being an understanding, caring partner, showing respect and love for the other one went through the window. 

“Are you accusing me of spying on you!?”

“Maybe I am! Answer the fucking question!”

“You’re paranoid!” she yelled. “Yes!” though it wasn’t true at all. “Yes, I did. Happy now!?” she hissed with a vindictive smirk, suddenly wanting to enrage him further for no reason in particular. Maybe for the sheer satisfaction of giving him the same shit he was giving her.

“Brat!”

“Asshole!”

“Idiot!”

“Jerk!”

“I hate you!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t; have gotten into a relationship with me in the first place!”

“You know what?” he hissed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have because-“

“Because you’re an asshole-!”

“Because you’re completely immature!”

“Oh, I’m immature!” Y/N cried out, throwing her hands in the air “hypocrite! You’re always go about work and job  and crime rate and vigilantism and crime lords and-“

“You fucking knew it! You fucking knew who I was when we started – “

“You have changed!” her words came without any thinking and Jason felt like it was a slap. For a moment eerie silence, electrified with tension fell between them.

The only sounds being the heavy beating of their hearts, ragged breaths and unbearable weight of both spoken and unspoken words.

“Maybe I did.” He said coldly.

“Yeah, maybe you did. But maybe it’s my fault.”

“Maybe I fucked up your life.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe you fucked up mine.”

“Right.”

The screaming match turned into an exchange of icy cold gazes and sharp as knives words.

First fight and they were already pulling out the arguments that their relationship might have been a mistake.

Y/N flinched internally realizing she was acting exactly like her parents after 15 years of marriage.

Though clearly the generational trauma poured on her, resulted in an accelerated speed and she was becoming a hag after 15 months.

Fucking great. If anyone was a hypocrite, she just scored a gold star in the category.

Not that she was going to admit it, since he started it.

Besides he was a man, and she was a woman so it was his responsibility to resolve –

God! She was having every little hated characteristic of her mother.

“Do we break up?” he asked and her eyes grew wider.

So easily?

Giving up without fighting or trying to fix things?

Seriously?!

Did he even love her at all or was it all just a game?

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do we break up?”

“You know what, let’s finish this. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“You didn’t answer the –“

“Just leave me alone!”

So much for *not going to bed angry*.

***

In the back of his head, Jason turned into a little kid.

It wasn’t like he enjoyed this stupid fight and the amount of harsh words and malignancy terrified him.

Truly.

Just like back in the days when he had to stand up for his mother when she was fighting with another pathetic counterfeit of a man.

It was hard to grow up without any male role model, but even if he didn’t know who he wanted to be as a partner, he had a clear idea of who he didn’t want to be.

He hated the concept, the sheer possibility of becoming suspicious, violent, aggressive in words, crude and rude. The exact image of what he had just displayed towards her.

The woman he loved.

The woman he wanted to be protective and  supportive of.

“Great fucking job, Jason.” He hissed to himself and even though his body was aching to rush to the bedroom, wrap arms around her and silently apologize with hugs and warmth stupid pride prevented him.

She started this after all.

And in the back of his mind he was a five year old, starving for affection and validation, feeling like there was no one who loved him.

Like maybe he was doomed and destined to be alone.

Thinking depressing thoughts to the sound of Y/N’s breaking heart behind the thin wall.  

[steddieas-shegoes]

sold out, one night only

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event for Black Friday using 'one day night only'

rated m | 2980 words | cw: implied and referenced sexual content | tags: modern era, pop star steve, rock star eddie, semi-famous corroded coffin, exes to lovers, getting back together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The poster is huge, takes up most of the board in the club announcing new events. It’s surprisingly simple for something so large.

‘One Night Only’ accompanied by a picture of Steve Harrington, recently out queer pop icon, and a date and time.

Tonight is the one night only.

Eddie stares at it, kind of wishes he didn’t feel like sobbing, and then books it out of the club.

If he’s gonna make it across town before Steve’s show is done, he’s gotta hope for the least amount of traffic he’s ever seen and a lot of luck. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the show was delayed enough that he’s still on stage singing.

He manages to find an Uber only a block away, offers them a 50% tip if they can get him to the arena in less than five minutes, and leans his head back against the seat.

~~~~

Four years ago, when Steve followed Eddie and his band to Chicago, neither of them expected much to happen. Corroded Coffin was small town good, but they quickly found that they weren’t quite what record labels were looking for.

A small indie label from San Francisco was interested, though.

So they packed up and moved to California, and to celebrate the first recording session, they went to a karaoke bar and all took turns singing songs that you’d never expect them to.

Steve took a turn singing a Harry Styles song and it was game over.

The whole bar went silent until he was done, and then it was pandemonium as people rushed him as he got off the stage, telling him he should be famous, and that he had the voice of an angel, and that he should try to sign a record deal.

And Eddie knew he could sing; he’d heard him in the shower and the car plenty.

There was just something about seeing him on stage and knowing that Steve was meant for more that really cut into his heart and made him bleed out on that bar floor.

It was the beginning of the end for them that night.

Eddie pushed him away. Steve stopped fighting it.

Steve signed with a huge company out of New York and moved before Eddie even realized he ruined everything.

He hasn’t spoken to him since, not even the one time Dustin had to have surgery and requested everyone be back in Hawkins in case something went wrong. He was being dramatic about leg splints, but they did it anyway.

Eddie caught one glimpse of Steve walking out of the Henderson home the night that Dustin got to leave the hospital, but he didn’t stop him.

Corroded Coffin is big enough to do festival circuits, even playing on the main stage for some of them.

Steve Harrington is big enough to go to Grammy parties and duet with Sabrina Carpenter.

And Eddie is stupid enough to think he can get backstage to apologize to him for being dumb enough to let him walk away.

~~~~

When he arrives at the arena, he’s told he needs a ticket to enter. This is a fact he knew before getting here, but one he chose to ignore in hopes that he might be able to bribe someone with his romantic story.

Unfortunately, the middle aged man who reminds him a lot of Wayne couldn’t care less about his need to tell Steve he loves him.

“You and the 20,000 others in the audience, bud,” the man says. “No ticket, no entrance.”

“Okay, I know you probably hear this often, but I swear he knows me. He’d let me in,” Eddie explains, but the guy is somehow even less impressed. “Oh! Wait. I have proof.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and opens his photos. The album named ‘Stevie ♥️’ is still in his favorites, even though Robin made him promise he’d delete it after the last time she visited. He may have promised he would, but he never said when.

It’s hundreds of photos of them together, mostly selfies, personal pictures they took on dates or in bed or on their road trip or-

“I told you to delete those.”

Eddie spins around at Robin’s voice. She’s standing near the set of doors at the end of the long line of doors, two security guards flanking her.

“And I will. Eventually.” Eddie walks towards her, ignoring the man telling him he needs to leave.

“What are you doing here?” She asks even though she has to know.

She’s his friend even though she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate. She isn’t being mean on purpose. She’s just being protective of both of them.

“Robin…” he starts.

She holds up a hand. “If I take you backstage, will this be a one night only thing or a start to forever thing? Because honestly, I don’t think he can take seeing you if it’s only for you to leave right after. He’s barely-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“He’s what?” Eddie pushes, needing to know what she was gonna say.

She sighs. He knew he’d get her to give in easily.

“He’s barely holding it together as it is,” she admits. “I had to bribe him to get on stage tonight.”

“Bribe him? For this show?”

“And the last dozen or so. He’s tired. He-” She sighs again, heavier. “He misses you.”

“If he misses me, then he should call. Or text. Send a carrier pigeon.” Eddie doesn’t mean for the words to bite, but he can’t help the way he feels and he knows he’s safe with Robin. She won’t take it personally or let him stew in it for too long. “It’s not like he doesn’t have access to me if he really wants it.”

“Eddie. You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I made it very clear that I loved him too much to hold him back. He was the one who pushed it to this,” Eddie tries.

He doesn’t succeed. Robin is shaking her head, laughing with disbelief.

“You two are made for each other. I’ll bring you backstage, but if I see a single tear shed in anything other than happiness, I’m calling Jeff and telling on you.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. Calling Jeff isn’t quite the threat it used to be, not since Jeff got himself a very serious girlfriend who keeps him busy. Even if it was, Robin knows Jeff’s just gonna nod along, give Eddie a sad look, and move on.

He follows Robin through the door she came through, waving at the guard who was giving him a hard time– “he’s just doing his job, Eddie” – and feels his throat catch on his next breath when he can hear the beat of the music.

Steve’s pop rock sound isn’t necessarily Eddie’s favorite type of music, but he did stay up until midnight for the release of his debut album. It’s Steve. What’s he gonna do? Not listen to it?

His voice is just this side of raspy, like there’s a scratch of his throat when he hits the lower register his voice will allow. He almost sounds like when Eddie would-

“Alright. He’s got two songs left and an encore. Encore is usually just one song, but this is a special night so he may do a bonus from his new album. Don’t touch anything,” Robin sends him into the green room, waving off the security person who is standing at the door. “Don’t make me regret letting you in here. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jesus, Robbie, I’m not a child. I’m not gonna hurt myself-”

“I didn’t mean physically.” She gives him a sad look. “I care about you, too.”

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he breathes out. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been. Robin hugs him and moves to the door.

“I’ll make sure you guys have some privacy for a bit, but we do have a tight schedule. Security’s only here while the crew packs up,” she explains. Eddie nods. He knows the drill. He may not be an international pop star, but he deals with the ins and outs of venues often enough.

Robin leaves and the only sound is the bass thumping of Steve’s last song. Eddie looks around at how bare the room is. Usually, Corroded Coffin has to share a green room with a few other bands unless they pull off headlining the main stage. Those rooms are usually cluttered, crews and musicians constantly coming and going, leaving trash and guitar picks behind. The only thing in this room that would hint at Steve using it is a bag of half-eaten white cheddar popcorn on the table next to an empty water bottle and a mug of what looks like green tea.

Steve’s a big enough star to make absurd requests for backstage, but it’s clear he doesn’t. Eddie isn’t surprised. Steve’s never really been one to ask for things that would benefit him.

He hears the screaming, knows Steve’s just left the stage. He’s probably standing nearby, hiding behind curtains or stacks of speakers, maybe even in plain sight.

“Wait!” Robin’s voice is right outside the door.

The door opens.

Steve’s there, breathless, sweaty, hot as hell.

“Steve, you still have a song,” another woman in khakis and a polo shirt is rushing up to him, waving a clipboard in his face.

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is rough when he speaks. Eddie can tell it’s more from emotion than the nearly two hour set list he just performed.

“Steve.” Eddie is waiting for Steve to move, for anyone to move. He can’t.

“Steve, you need to go back onstage.”

Eddie has his arms full of Steve before anyone can respond to the woman just trying to do her job. She looks like she’s a tech manager, but usually they wear all black, and Eddie doesn’t know all there is to know about an international superstar performing a concert even though he does know all there is to know about Steve.

He knows that he prefers earl gray tea with real sugar, not the green tea with honey that’s sitting on the coffee table. He knows that his favorite treats are the mini Kit Kats– “not the regular ones, they taste different, I swear!”-- not popcorn that gets stuck in his teeth for hours. He knows that he likes making places feel like home no matter how temporary he’s there, and there’s not a single item in this room that makes it feel lived in.

The woman seems to give up on getting Steve back on stage, and he’s pretty sure he has Robin to thank for it.

He has Steve in his arms for the first time in way too long. He isn’t wasting a second of it thinking about anyone else.

Steve’s sweat is soaking through Eddie’s shirt already, but he doesn’t really care. He used to love having Steve’s sweat on him; It meant he was doing something right.

He knows a reunion isn’t this easy, and any second now, Steve’s gonna pull away and yell at him, and they’ll fight and Eddie will let it happen because he deserves it and-

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve sobs against his neck, breath tickling his skin as his lips brush against him in an almost-kiss.

Suddenly, Eddie knows that Steve planned this. This whole sold out, one night only show was only so Eddie would come see him.

Eddie should be pissed.

Steve could have just fucking called him. Texted him. Sent a carrier pigeon!

But he’s got Steve in his arms and it’s always been pretty hard to be pissed at him when he’s pressed perfectly against his chest.

Robin is clearing the room and cursing Steve for making her clean up his messes, but Eddie can hear the fondness in her voice. She wouldn’t bother giving them time alone together if she didn’t want them to have it.

“Robin said I shouldn’t do it. She said you wouldn’t show.” Tears are falling from Steve’s eyes on Eddie's shirt. “I swore you would. She thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Eddie laughs, squeezing his arms to pull him in tighter. “Planning something this big in the hopes that I’d come to a pop concert is fucking insane, Stevie.”

“But you did.” Steve leans back and looks at him, watery smile enough to make Eddie feel like he could melt into the floor. “I knew you would.”

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to ignore everything that went wrong and everything they need to talk about, wants to take Steve apart in this room and make it feel like home because Steve didn’t do that on his own. He doesn’t think he’s made any place feel like home in a long time.

“You put a lot of faith in a guy who let you go,” Eddie whispers.

“You showed up for a guy who left,” Steve says back.

“You only left because I pushed you away,” Eddie argues.

“You only pushed me away because you thought it was best for me,” Steve raises a brow, challenging him to keep going.

Eddie knows Steve has a response for everything, though. He’ll keep putting blame on himself the same way Eddie keeps putting it on himself, and they’ll go round and round and waste precious time that they could be doing other things. Instead of pushing, Eddie sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of arguing.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve relaxes in his arms.

“We still have to talk, Stevie,” Eddie reminds him as he leans in, feels Steve’s breath against his lips.

“We will,” Steve barely gets out before their lips crash together, bruising and needy.

There’s a lot that Eddie missed about Steve. He’s spent countless hours harping over everything he messed up to himself, to Robin, to Wayne, to the band. Steve was forever going to be the one that got away.

“Can we…” Steve gasps against his mouth, hands grasping at every inch of Eddie that they can.

“What do you need?” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists to still him, to make him focus on what he wants.

“Just need you.”

It’s a cop out and they both know it, but Eddie’s fine with it tonight. If he has to be the one to take charge and assume what Steve wants, then he will. For tonight, he can give Steve what he wants to, and Steve will take it.

It’s a little anticlimactic when they come barely five minutes later. They don’t even get a chance to properly remove any clothing before they’re making a mess between them, moaning as if they can’t be heard.

As they come down, and Eddie manages to find a rag that may or may not have been used for other things already, Eddie sees Steve wipe his eyes.

He stops what he’s doing and drops the rag on the floor, pulling Steve close again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks because he can’t let Steve leave him again. Not this time.

“I just don’t want this to be one night only,” Steve cries.

“It won’t be, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him, brushing the fresh tears away as they fall. “We’re gonna figure out how to make it work. The band doesn’t have anything for the next few weeks, so we’ve got time, okay?”

“But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a GQ interview in London,” Steve pouts.

Eddie tries not to be distracted by his bitten-red lips, but they’re just so…biteable.

“I could go to London,” Eddie offers, only slightly joking.

Steve’s eyes light up. “You can?”

“I mean, I can definitely blow some of my savings to follow you around for a bit,” Eddie shrugs.

“As if I’d let you pay.” Steve’s beaming at him. “You really wanna come with me? Even though people will start spreading rumors and it’ll ruin your metal band image?”

“Baby, I’ll stand on that stage right now and scream to everyone who will listen that I’m yours.”

There’s still time to do that, too. Even though it can’t have been more than 20 minutes since Steve left the stage, he has no doubt that there are plenty of stragglers in the arena hoping for Steve to still come out and perform his encore.

“Some fans are kind of-”

“Crazy?” Steve nods. “That’s because you’re perfect. But they can’t have you, right? Not like I can.”

“No. Nobody gets to have me like you do.”

If Robin wasn’t banging on the door to warn them they only had five minutes, Eddie would be trying for another round. Maybe this time, he’d get his mouth on Steve instead of just his hand.

“I guess we should get to the car before fans figure out I’m still here,” Steve suggests. “And before Robin kills us both.”

“Imagine that news story,” Eddie laughs. “Best friend and manager of pop icon Steve Harrington charged with double homicide after seeing more dicks than she’s ever seen in her life.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t seen mine,” Steve laughs as he pulls away. When he sees Eddie’s shocked face, he pats his cheek. “I sleep naked, babe. You knew that.”

Eddie’s face goes back to normal quickly. “Still? I thought that was just so I would-”

“I’m coming in!” Robin shouts as she opens the door. Steve turns away to finish buttoning his pants, but Eddie’s soft dick is right out in the open.

“Seriously?” Robin groans.

Eddie finishes making himself presentable and smirks. “You’ve seen what he’s got. You can’t blame me.”

“I can and I will. Car’s already surrounded, so. Hope you’re good with a hard launch.”

Eddie looks at Steve to check in. Steve gives him a nod.

“Blast off, I guess.”

[ducksido]

I just read your famous reader x idia in the bikini photoshoot and that was FIRE

I really love the idea of Idia with a famous reader so may i suggest famous reader who is a very popular singer, so much they get a role in a movie (a musical) were they and Vil act as the main characters. They share an absolutely iconic duo song and after the movie is released ppl just go crazy about readers and Vils chemistry while acting and singing. They are actually just very good friends but nothing else ofc since reader is with Idia but the public doesn’t know that reader is in a relationship

Idias reaction to the whole internet shipping his partner with one of his former classmates, just JEALOUS IDIA KQOFBIQWNDGU (fem or neutral reader, and thank you for your time 😔)

Idia had never seen this many hashtags in his life. And that was saying something for a guy whose entire For You Page was algorithmically curated to show 98% anime clips and 2% cat videos.

But now?

#VilxY/N #V/N #SwanSongSoulmates #TheirChemistryThough It was inescapable.

“Ughhghgghhh…” he groaned, faceplanting into his limited edition RFA pillow. “What kind of sadist coded the algorithm today?!”

Your name was trending again. Not unusual. You were always trending lately. Your voice alone could shut down the internet. But this time, it wasn’t your latest single, or your runway appearance, or even the viral video of you teaching Ortho how to Dougie.

No.

It was the movie. The movie. The romantic musical masterpiece you starred in. With Vil. Two gorgeous leads. One fire duet. And now the world was foaming at the mouth with their OTP delusions.

He was trying to ignore it—he really was! But every scroll brought up another edit, another post, another cursed caption:

“WHEN HE SPUN HER AND SHE HIT THAT HIGH NOTE??? GET MARRIED???” “Vil looking at them like they hung the moon... Idia who??” “No but imagine the musical s*** scene they cut out 👀🔥”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN S*** SCENE?!” Idia shrieked, nearly knocking over his gaming chair as he bolted upright. “THERE WAS A S*** SCENE?! THEY FILMED A SEX SCENE?! I’M GONNA BLACKOUT—”

“Brother,” Ortho peeked in calmly, holding a tray with cocoa, “you’re at a ten. Let’s try to bring it to, say… a six.”

Idia grabbed the cocoa with a tremble. “I’m fine. I’m chill. I’m—I’m going to throw up. Why didn’t they say they were going to have chemistry?! They’ve got enough charisma to flatten an entire fanbase!!”

And to make matters worse?

You hadn’t told the public you were dating. You wanted your privacy. He respected that. Really, he did.

But that meant the entire world thought you and Vil were star-crossed lovers plucked straight from the screen, and he—your actual boyfriend—was in the background like some glitchy NPC with emotional attachment issues.

It drove him insane.

Later that night, you strolled into his room, still glowing from the movie premiere, cheeks pink from fan praise. “Hey, babe,” you smiled, plopping onto his bed. “You okay?”

Idia gave you a look. A pained, dramatic, cursed look.

“You and Vil trended for six hours straight,” he said. “I think the internet proposed on our behalf.”

You blinked, then snorted. “You saw that, huh.”

“Oh I saw it,” he grumbled, pulling a hoodie over his head like a turtle. “Did you see the fanfic where Vil and you got married on stage after singing a love confession at the Tonys? Because I did.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You jealous?”

His hair flared magenta in an instant. “Wha—ME? No! What?! Pffft—That’s—Jealousy is a basic human emotion and I’m clearly more evolved—”

“I’m your duet partner in real life, you know.” You kissed his neck this time, slowly. “I like singing in your key the best.”

His mouth opened. Closed. He turned into a blubbering mess.

“You can’t just say that! I’ll short-circuit—”

“Sing with me then, Mr. Shroud,” you teased. “And remind me who I actually belong to.”

Idia.exe stopped working.

Vil may have been the co-star. But you? You always saved your best performances for him.

[pearlprincess02]

dating & dates (leo version)

leo: (leo venus/mars/5th house/7th house)

when dating someone with leo venus, leo mars, leo in the 5th house, and leo in the 7th house expect a bold, passionate, and theatrical approach to love. they crave attention, admiration, and grand romantic gestures, thriving in relationships where they feel special and adored. they love excitement, playfulness, and a strong emotional connection but also require loyalty and consistency. confidence is key—if you’re dating them, show them off, hype them up, and make them feel like the star of your world. leo venus loves romance with a touch of drama; they want to be courted in a way that feels grand and cinematic. show appreciation often, and never let the spark fade. leo mars is passionate and direct in pursuit, enjoying playful competition and a partner who can match their fiery energy. they need excitement and spontaneity to keep them engaged. leo 5th house brings a love for fun, creativity, and performance. keep the relationship lively with shared adventures, laughter, and an element of showmanship. leo 7th house seeks a partner who embodies confidence and charisma. they’re drawn to those who can hold their own but also complement their natural radiance, making the relationship feel like a power couple dynamic.

date night ideas

glitzy red carpet movie premiere (leo venus, leo 5th house, leo 7th house) dancing at an exclusive club with vip access (leo venus, leo mars) vip tickets to a concert/theater show, masquerade ball/themed costume party, fireworks display/light show viewing, horseback riding on the beach at sunset, backstage passes to an event/performance (leo venus, leo 5th house) luxury rooftop dinner, helicopter ride over the city, private chef cooking a gourmet meal at home, couples’ photoshoot with a professional photographer, luxury spa day for two, glamorous shopping spree together, elegant gala/charity ball (leo venus, leo 7th house) karaoke night where you both perform duets, spontaneous road trip with a surprise destination, sports car rental for a high-speed adventure, amusement park day with thrill rides, live comedy show/improv night, talent showcase where you both perform something (leo mars, leo 5th house)

over 18+ spicy bonus 🔞

leo: (leo mars/cupido/eros/lust/amor)

someone with leo mars, leo cupido, leo eros, leo lust, and leo amor in their chart brings passion, drama, and a sense of spectacle to the bedroom. they crave admiration, intensity, and playful dominance, viewing intimacy as both an art and a performance. confidence and enthusiasm from their partner are essential—they love to be desired and adored just as much as they love to impress. expect them to take charge, demand attention, and turn every encounter into something unforgettable. leo mars is fiery and bold, taking an active, dominant role with a preference for passion-fueled encounters that feel exciting and energetic. they want a partner who can match their intensity and enthusiasm. leo cupido thrives on seduction and the chase, loving the build-up and anticipation as much as the act itself. they enjoy feeling like they have captivated their partner, turning intimacy into a game of attraction. leo eros brings creativity and drama, seeking experiences that feel luxurious, theatrical, and deeply passionate. they love to express their desires through physical touch and expect their partner to be fully present and engaged. leo lust is unapologetically indulgent, craving high-energy, uninhibited pleasure. they have a strong appetite and want a partner who isn’t afraid to explore their desires without hesitation. leo amor ties love and sex together, valuing deep emotional connection alongside physical passion. they need devotion, affection, and admiration in the bedroom, making their partner feel like the only person in the world.

kinks you might have

praise & verbal adoration (leo mars, leo cupido, leo eros, leo amor) power play & dominance, competitive edge (outperforming partner, keeping things exciting) (leo mars, leo cupdio, leo lust) power couple dynamics (feeling like royalty together)  (leo mars, leo cupdio, leo amor) high-energy, passionate encounters, oral fixation (giving & receiving with enthusiasm), spontaneous encounters in exciting locations (leo mars, leo eros, leo lust) luxury & sensual indulgence (silk sheets, candles, champagne, etc.), intimate eye contact & deep emotional connection during (leo mars, leo eros, leo amor) passionate roughness (biting, scratching, intense energy) (leo mars, leo lust) possessiveness & marking (hickeys, claiming partner as theirs) (leo mars, leo lust, leo amor) exhibitionism (showing off, performing), roleplay & theatrical scenarios, mirror play (watching themselves & partner), seductive lingerie & aesthetic appeal (leo cupido, leo eros, leo lust) teasing & prolonged seduction, worship kink, over-the-top romantic gestures before intimacy (leo cupido, leo eros, leo amor) voyeurism (leo eros, leo lust) choreographed intimacy (music, rhythm, setting the mood perfectly)  (leo eros, leo lust)

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[soulprompts]

IDEAS FOR A DATE! ( A PROMPT LIST! )

now before i give this list, i want to address two things: 1) i'm enclosing a list of reasons for people to go on dates, because i want to, and also because there's some very good reasons for dates, and 2) i plan to write another list that's not as modern and contemporary, for my historical and fantastical and science-fictionally minded angels! for now, bon appetit: remember, your muses might be undercover, on a blind date, on a first date, matched online, a platonic date, trying to make other love interests jealous, like there are so many reasons, don't be shy, and DON'T ADD TO THIS LIST.

[ LEARN ]: the sender and receiver attend a class together (e.g. for cooking, baking, dancing, pottery, etc.) for a date.

[ ARCADE ]: the sender and receiver decide to visit an arcade together for a date.

[ DRINK ]: the sender and receiver meet each other at a bar for a date.

[ SANDY ]: the sender and receiver go to the beach together for a date involving strolling, a picnic, swimming and watching the sunset!

[ STRIKE! ]: the sender and receiver meet at a bowling alley for a date to practice their bowling skills.

[ MORNING ]: the sender and receiver decide to meet for a breakfast date rather than a dinner one.

[ FOREST ]: the sender and receiver take a weekend break in the woods, staying in a lovely cabin surrounded by nature.

[ TENT ]: alternatively, instead of finding a cabin to stay in for the night, the sender and receiver pack their tents and head out for a camping trip instead.

[ POPCORN ]: the sender and receiver opt for the classic date option of going to see a movie at the cinema together.

[ CAFÉ ]: going for a more relaxed option, the sender and receiver arrange to meet up for coffee and cake at a local café for a date.

[ MUSIC ]: finding tickets to their favorite band's concert, the sender and receiver head out for the night to listen to them play.

[ BICYCLE ]: the sender and receiver mount their bikes and head off to cycle in the countryside together.

[ DUO ]: the sender and receiver set up the bluetooth speakers and dance together in the peace of their own home to the sounds of their favorite songs.

[ DIY ]: the sender and receiver are about to go out for a date, but instead end up staying at home to complete a DIY project together.

[ ESCAPE ]: the sender and receiver attempt to solve an escape room together for a particularly exciting date.

[ COMMUNITY ]: the sender and receiver visit a local fair, festival, market or parade together for a date.

[ PLUS ONE ]: the sender and receiver put on their glad rags and attend a very fancy and prestigious event together.

[ WINNER ]: the sender and receiver set up a game night (card games, board games, video games, etc.) at home for their date.

[ GELATO ]: the sender and receiver head out to the best ice-cream parlour in town for a cold and sweet date.

[ SPEED ]: the sender and receiver go to a go-karting track for a particularly competitive date.

[ HIKE ]: the sender and receiver lace up their hiking boots and head out to a scenic hiking route together.

[ SADDLE UP ]: the sender and receiver take the reins and head out for a scenic horseback riding session together.

[ UP ]: the sender and receiver take an unforgettable ride in a hot air balloon for a date.

[ SING ]: the sender and receiver find a local karaoke bar and take turns singing solos and duets together.

[ PAGES ]: the sender and receiver find a cozy library-café and spend an enjoyable date reading books and drinking coffee together.

[ CHEF ]: deciding to stay in for the evening, the sender and receiver decide to make dinner together in the comfort of their own home.

[ HOLE IN ONE ]: the sender and receiver find a nearby mini-golf course and decide to play a few holes together.

[ MOVIE ]: the sender and receiver pick a few movies to watch for the evening and curl up on the sofa with some snacks to watch them together.

[ PAST ]: the sender and receiver go to a museum or an art gallery together to see the displays and get to know one another better.

[ CLUB ]: the sender and receiver get dolled up and go to a very popular and newly opened nightclub together.

[ PORTRAIT ]: the sender and receiver get canvases and paints and begin to paint one another at home, leaving plenty of peace and quiet to get to know each other.

[ AIM ]: the sender and receiver get suited up to go for a paintballing session together.

[ OUTSIDE ]: the sender and receiver get their nicest blanket, their favorite refreshments, and head out to a park for a nice relaxing picnic.

[ ITALIANO ]: the sender and receiver attempt to make their own pizzas at home together.

[ DINNER ]: the sender and receiver go to a nice restaurant together for a dinner date.

[ ROAD ]: the sender and the receiver embark on a long but worthwhile road trip together.

[ ROWING ]: the sender and receiver get into a rowboat together and guide the boat down the river.

[ QUICK ]: the sender and receiver meet one another for the first time at a speed dating event.

[ ROLLER ]: the sender and receiver put their roller-blades on and hit the rinks together.

[ RELAX ]: the sender and receiver head out to a luxurious spa resort together for some well-earned rest and massages.

[ COMFORT ]: the sender and receiver transform their home into a makeshift spa and give each other facials and massages for the evening.

[ STARS ]: the sender and receiver stretch out on the rooftop/lawn/back of a truck etc. for a night of star-gazing together.

[ WALK ]: the sender and the receiver go out for a nice, relaxing stroll together to see the sights.

[ POOL ]: the sender and receiver go out to the pool, beach or lake for a swimming session together.

[ SHARE ]: the sender and receiver split the evening in half to teach one another a skill that they're particularly good at (e.g. the sender teaching the receiver how to paint, etc.)

[ QUIZ ]: the sender and receiver go out together and find a local pub that's hosting a table quiz event, which they decide to enter.

[ AWAY ]: the sender and the receiver decide to indulge in a long vacation somewhere that they've both wanted to go for a long time.

[ BREAK ]: in the spirit of compromising, the sender and receiver book a nice quiet weekend break together.

[ SIP ]: the sender and receiver book tickets for a wine tasting event in a local vineyard.

[ SAIL ]: the sender and receiver go out on a yacht for the evening.

[zeroseuniverse]

Seventeen Their First Date with You

S.Coups – Classic Romantic Dinner

He goes all out—a nice restaurant, a cozy atmosphere, and his full attention on you the entire time. He’s a mix of confident and slightly nervous, making sure you feel comfortable. He teases you a little but also reassures you with his warmth and natural leadership.

Jeonghan – Coffee Date with a Twist

You think it’s a simple coffee date, but somehow, he ropes you into a little adventure—maybe trying weird menu items or playing a mischievous prank on Minghao via text. He’s effortlessly charming, making sure you laugh at least ten times before the date ends.

Joshua – Live Music & Late Night Talks

He takes you to a cozy spot with live acoustic music. It’s the kind of date that feels easy—like you’ve known each other forever. Afterward, he suggests a walk under the streetlights, casually intertwining your fingers with his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jun – Spontaneous Arcade Date

Jun thrives on fun, so he takes you somewhere where you can play games, win prizes, and have friendly competitions. He’d definitely rig a claw machine to get you a plushie and pretend it was skill.

Hoshi – Zoo or Aquarium Adventure

He’s so excited the whole time. You’d think he worked there with how passionately he talks about the animals. If you’re lucky, you might get a tiger plushie as a keepsake. "You like tigers, right? Well, now you have one!"

Wonwoo – Bookstore & Cozy Café

It’s a slow, meaningful kind of date where he subtly learns what you love. He buys you a book he thinks you’d enjoy and secretly writes a little note inside. If you’re lucky, he lets you see his softer, more playful side between sips of coffee.

Woozi – Music Studio Hangout

He’s a little shy at first, but he takes you to his studio, letting you hear some music he’s working on. He watches your reaction like it’s more important than anything else. If he really likes you, he might even write a quick melody about you on the spot.

DK – Carnival or Amusement Park

It’s so much fun. He makes sure you’re laughing the entire time, dragging you onto roller coasters and winning you a ridiculous amount of stuffed animals. Expect lots of accidental but totally intentional hand-holding.

Mingyu – Cooking Date at Home

He insists on cooking for you but gets way too into it. There’s a lot of playful bickering, flour on both of your faces, and him definitely showing off his knife skills. By the end, he’s staring at you more than the food.

The8 – Art Museum or Painting Date

He enjoys something a little more quiet and thoughtful. Whether it’s an art gallery visit or a DIY pottery class, it’s a date that feels personal—where he shows his deep, observant nature. By the end, you realize he’s been studying you more than the art.

Seungkwan – Picnic with Competitive Games

It starts wholesome—cute food, a nice picnic setup—but quickly turns into intense competitions. Card games, trivia, who can make the other laugh first—he thrives on energy and loves seeing you all fired up. He probably lets you win at least once… but will never admit it.

Vernon – Indie Movie & Chill Walk

He picks an indie or artsy film, something unique that sparks interesting conversation. Afterward, you walk around, just talking about everything. He’s easygoing but incredibly perceptive, making you feel completely at ease.

Dino – Karaoke & Late-Night Snacks

He needs to impress you at least once, so karaoke is perfect. Expect playful dance battles, loud duets, and him staring at you way too long when you’re not looking. By the end of the night, he’s got his arm around you, claiming, "You’re my duet partner now. Forever."

[kekaekeke]

woonhak fics that had me blushing HARD

just woonagi fics I loved too much and HAVE to share (and i also made this list so I could keep track of everything i've read so far !!) - 🍧

favourite flavor by @guiltysungho fluff & highschool!au, wc: 1.3k –» you bump into woonhak at an ice cream truck right outside of your school, feelings ensue.

nurse (kiss) me back to health by @icyminghao fluff & highschool!au, wc: 597 –» in which woonhak goes to the infirmary way too many times for it to be simply coincidences…

favourite teddy bear by @slytherinshua lil angsty + fluff, wc: 1.1k –» y/n and woonhak have an argument, which leads to y/n saying that woonhak isn't her favourite teddy bear anymore. more under the cut !

sweetheart by @slytherinshua fluff, lil angst, f2l & forbidden love, wc: 2.6k –» you come from a wealthy but neglectful family. he's the son of two farmers. your mother wants you to get engaged. you love woonhak. pas de deux by @taesanluv3r hip-hop dancer! kim woonhak x ballet dancer! reader rivals to lovers, wc: 7.9k –» when their school holds their annual duet competition, kim woonhak and y/n are itching for that trophy. what happens when the rivals can't find a partner? laser tag! by @taesanluv3r fluffy cuteness, slight betrayal, wc: 1.3k –» "your first kiss was during...laser tag?!"

a date and five older brothers by @taesanluv3r idol!woonhak x non-idol!reader, established relationship, wc: 2.8k –» "ugh, why does it have to be raining cats and dogs today of all days?!"

build-a-bear by @taesanluv3r idol!woonhak x non-idol!reader, established relationship, wc: 3.3k –» y/n and woonhak have an argument. he tries to make it up to her. Under the Weather by @memorabxlia fluff, bestfriend!woonhak x fem! reader, wc: 1.5k –» sick on Christmas, you’re ready to sulk until your best friend Woonhak arrives with cheer and hot chocolate. He turns your miserable day into a cozy celebration, but as you recover, he catches your cold. Now it’s your turn to care for him, proving the holidays are always better together. polaroid love by @lynnimini fluff, highschool!au, wc: 2.3k –» in which y/n and woonhak are the epitome of high school love straight out of a drama: innocent, sweet, silly, and most of all, dramatic.

I LOVE YOU(TUBE) by @juyeoz fluff, best-friend!woonhak x crush-fem!reader, 3 part series –» Going on a date with your best friend for a Youtube video was only for pure entertainment, however, after seeing how everyone shipped the two of you, perhaps your real feelings were discovered. and that's all of my recs as offff 250111 !!

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐯𝐢 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 1.8K

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, modern!au, dancer!vi au, dancer!reader, implied smut but sfw, fem reader (gn pronouns used, though), probably some dance discrepancies because i'm not a dancer myself

A/N: I had so much fun writing this; Vi and reader are so sassy like can y'all just fuck it out already... anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ The day your mom took you to your local dance company's performance of The Nutcracker was the day your love for dance began

୨ৎ At 7, you could hardly tell the difference between The Royal Ballet and Piltover Springs Dance School; and to say you were in awe was the understatement of the century

୨ৎ The glittering tutus, the leaps and twirls; you were sure you'd just discovered what you wanted to be when you grew up: A Ballerina

୨ৎ And here you were now; not quite a Royal Ballerina, but, you'd just gotten cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in the very same annual performance of The Nutcracker you'd seen 11 years ago

୨ৎ You were beaming, trying your best to contain your excitement as the director of the school read out the rest of the cast list, until...

୨ৎ "For the first time in Piltover Springs Dance School history, our board was left completely at a loss when attempting to choose between our two top contenders for Star Senior. For this reason, we unanimously agreed that this year's Senior Showcase will feature both students. We’ve decided on a contemporary duet, and for this piece, we've chosen Y/n Y/l/n, and Violet Lanes. Round of applause for this year's Star Seniors!"

୨ৎ Your smile drops as quickly as it had appeared on your face just minutes ago

୨ৎ What. The. Hell.

୨ৎ You'd been pushing yourself beyond measure to earn this distinction, and if you were being honest, you'd rather not have earned it all than be the first student in the school's history forced to share it; and nevertheless, with Violet Lanes

୨ৎ As much you loved dance, you hated Violet; who was now more commonly referred to as Vi, courtesy of the nickname her first dance teacher gave to her

୨ৎ She’d been taking Hip-Hop lessons at the school for as long as you'd been taking Ballet lessons, and by the time you both started taking the same contemporary dance class in the 6th grade, your instructors had already started placing bets on which one of you it would be to earn the Star Senior distinction

୨ৎ You wonder if maybe you and Vi could've become friends if it weren't for how fiercely competitive you both were

୨ৎ But, alas: the two of you were nothing if not fiercely competitive, and oh how ironic it was that you'd now share the distinction that had driven you two so far apart

୨ৎ Clearly, Ekko was loving the irony

୨ৎ "Alright, alright, Star Senior! I can't wait for this one..." he'd say, rubbing his hands together with a shit-eating grin on his face

୨ৎ "I'm so pissed," you'd laugh incredulously, shoving pointe shoes into your bag, "I’d even let Caitlyn have my goddamn spot instead!”

୨ৎ "Ouch,"

୨ৎ You'd recognize the voice behind you anywhere

୨ৎ "If we're gonna be spending this much time together, you might wanna learn to love me, sugar plum.”

୨ৎ You turn to see Vi holding out a piece of paper- the schedule for the upcoming dance season- and your eyes scan for the following dates and times:

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri- Company Rehearsal: The Nutcracker; 5:30-7:00 PM

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri- Senior Showcase Rehearsal; 7:15-8:00 PM

୨ৎ You double, triple, quadruple check that you’re seeing this right

୨ৎ "Every day...?" you whisper, mostly to yourself

୨ৎ "Every day. Short sessions, so we can't really afford not to meet every day."

୨ৎ You look up to find that she's sucking her teeth, trying her best not to crack a satisfied smile at the irritation on your face, and anger pierces through you like a lightning bolt

୨ৎ “You're such a dick,” you seethe, eyes narrowed

୨ৎ She just rolls her own in response, unphased as usual; you'd never been able to get a rise out of her the way she could get one out of you, and that just pissed you off even more

୨ৎ “Look,” she sighs, “I don't want to do this stupid ass duet any more than you do, and I sure as hell didn't bust my ass for this distinction so that I could share it, so let's just get the show over with, and then we never have to see each other again. Cool?”

୨ৎ And you admit- for the first time ever, and certainly not out loud- that she's right; you just needed to get through the next eight months, and then you'd never have to see Violet Lanes again…

୨ৎ But why didn't that feel as good to think about as you thought it would? 

୨ৎ When 7:15 PM rolls around the next evening, you're already spent from your first day of rehearsals for The Nutcracker

୨ৎ You're hot, sweaty, and tired; and when you walk in a minute late to see Vi checking the imaginary watch on her hand, you know the next few months are going to test your patience like nothing has before

୨ৎ “Don’t piss me off,” you spit, shaking your head as you hold a hand out to her

୨ৎ Vi quirks an eyebrow and chuckles through her nose. "Hello to you too, sugar plum."

୨ৎ You scoff at the stupid nickname before you both turn to the instructor, whose eyebrows are raised as he wonders what the hell he's just gotten himself into

୨ৎ The two of you barely speak to each other during your rehearsals; you're just there to learn the moves, and frankly, try not to end each session at each other’s throats

୨ৎ The latter is a bit of a challenge for the two of you, surprising no one, but what does surprise you is the undeniable chemistry you and Vi have as dance partners

୨ৎ You two are quick to learn every move, and even quicker to learn each other; you sync effortlessly… 

୨ৎ Until, the lift

୨ৎ You could not-for the life of you- get the damn lift down

୨ৎ In fact, it takes an entire week of rehearsals just to get halfway there, and even then, it's nowhere near performance-ready

୨ৎ "We might have to scratch the lift and come up with something else," your instructor muses, scratching his chin and looking down at his notebook for other ideas

୨ৎ And Vi is quick to notice the way your face falls in response to his words

୨ৎ To know you was to know someone who demanded perfection from themselves, and it was evident that the idea of not being able to handle something as simple as a lift was going to eat at you

୨ৎ And so, she asks you to stay late that day… a proposal you immediately reject, because,

୨ৎ “I don’t need extra practice, and I certainly don’t need to spend more time with you.”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she’d deadpan, hands on her hips, “Cut the shit. This is why we can’t get the lift down. You freeze up as soon as you get halfway in the air, and when you hesitate, I hesitate, and then I start to drop you, and all of this because you hate me so much that you can’t even relax into a lift you learned to do when you were 15.”

୨ৎ You huff out a laugh, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms

୨ৎ “Seriously?” You challenge, “Well… maybe you’re just not strong enough to-”

୨ৎ She quirks an eyebrow and gives you a knowing smirk

୨ৎ Yeah… you kinda figured that one wouldn’t work

୨ৎ “Okay… well, I actually learned to do that lift when I was 13, so it’s been a while since-”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she interrupts, her voice much more stern than the first time your name left her lips 

୨ৎ “What?!” you seethe, now kicking yourself for getting so damn flustered

୨ৎ Vi takes a step forward, and for the first time in your 7-year-long rivalry, her expression softens as she speaks to you

୨ৎ And something blossoms in your belly; something much too close to butterflies for your liking…

୨ৎ “What we’re doing… it’s not working anymore.”

୨ৎ You look up at her through your eyelashes, a pout on your face

୨ৎ You know she’s right

୨ৎ “The break-up speech usually happens after we date, for the record,” you mumble

୨ৎ And she can’t help but laugh, and you can’t help but crack a smile, and have her eyes always crinkled up like that when she laughs?

୨ৎ “C’mon, you know what I mean. You don’t have to like me… but you’ve at least gotta trust me. Just enough for me to hold you in the air for like, three seconds,” she chuckles, “can you do that?”

୨ৎ You stare at her; pensive, hesitant

୨ৎ “I can try.”

୨ৎ “Okay,” she breathes out with a smile, “Then let’s try.”

୨ৎ She presses play on her phone, the same 10-second interval that you’ve heard countless times now begins playing, and you go for the lift; better this time, but she can feel that you’re still unsure 

୨ৎ “Damn it,” you spit as she places you back onto your feet

୨ৎ But this time, her hands don’t leave your hips

୨ৎ “Hey,” she calls out with a squeeze to your sides, “Relax. It’s okay, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, I promise.” 

୨ৎ She’s never talked to you like this before

୨ৎ Had her voice always sounded so sweet? 

୨ৎ Where did that scar on her lip come from?

୨ৎ When did she get this close to you?

୨ৎ “You good?” 

୨ৎ Your eyes snap up to meet hers, and what a pretty shade of blue, and you don’t even mean to lick your lips, and- 

୨ৎ “No fucking way,” she smirks, “you’re checking me out right now?” 

୨ৎ You’re quick to push off of her, immediately denying such claims

୨ৎ “No! What are you talking about? I’m not-”

୨ৎ “Dude, you so are; you just bit your lip!”

୨ৎ “I did not-” you break with a chuckle, closing your eyes. “I was not checking you out.”

୨ৎ“Look at you! Lying through your teeth! It was so obvious, Y/n, I swear to-”

୨ৎ “Are you gonna keep stating the obvious then? Or are you gonna do something about it?”

୨ৎ And oh, did she.

୨ৎ Right there in the studio. 

୨ৎ (And all those mirrors… really makes you think…)

୨ৎ Anyhow... it's safe to say that the next day, your instructor was pleasantly surprised to find that the lift was suddenly no longer an issue

୨ৎ You have your first costume fitting the next week

୨ৎ Your tutu was baby pink, covered in glitter and Swarovski crystals, and stuck straight out from your hips; it was exactly what you dreamed of wearing when you saw The Nutcracker for the first time

୨ৎ You'd beam at yourself in the mirror before turning to Ekko, who was already in his Nutcracker costume

୨ৎ "How do I look?" You'd ask

୨ৎ "Holy shit,"

୨ৎ You and Ekko would turn to the voice you'd recognize anywhere; and there stood a head of hot-pink hair, leaning against the doorframe of the ballet studio, chewing on a granola bar

୨ৎ "You look like a fucking cupcake."

୨ৎ Ekko would let out a bark of laughter, and you'd roll your eyes

୨ৎ "I'm a Sugar Plum Fairy," you'd correct, annoyance lacing your tone

୨ৎ "The Sugar Plum Fairy, lest I not forget," Vi would tease

୨ৎ And Ekko would think he was going crazy when he sees Vi shoot you a wink, and you smile back

୨ৎ “Pretty,” Vi would muse before strolling off into the hallway

୨ৎ Okay, now he was sure he was going crazy

୨ৎ “Wait… Y/n, is that a hickey on your neck?!”

𝐄𝐍𝐃 ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

P.S. - so do y'all want a full-length dance studio smut scene or...