#especially the ones who are all 'why would i stay for a band no one knows' cuz bitch you COULD know them???

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

you know if we do accept the last epilogue-esque sequence as a sort of dream/wish of ted's and therefore not necessarily canon, very funny if we then simply go "yeah, trent's book is called 'the lasso way' actually. he didn't change that. nope."

[prael]

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

-

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

-

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

-

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

-

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

-

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

-

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

[jyoongim]

Alastor loves his mother, he protected her from his father and went on a killing spree on all horrible men.

So it only makes sense that he falls in love with single mother reader yeah? Like she killed her husband to protect her child and they both ended up in hell? And Alastor just obsessing with mother reader and her child.

I haven’t written anything in a while so this might be a little wonky but i hope i did ok

———————————————————————————

Alastor hated men that treated good women terribly.

Especially if there were children in the home.

He had lived with his mother, who put up with his father’s abuse for his sake.

Until Alastor had had enough of seeing the woman he loved abused by her husband.

Despite his mother's protests.

His mother always loved his father despite how he treated them.

Love works in mysterious ways Is what his mother use to say.

He didn’t understand what that meant…

Until he met you.

The pretty doll with a tot.

From the grapevine he learned that no one had seen a husband around or a band on your finger. 

He thought it was impossible; you were a catch!

Why was a sweet thing like you without a husband?

“Would you care to stay for dinner my dear?” Alastor asked as you got up ready to go home. You had came over to give him a fruit basket, a welcome gift as you were his neighbor.

You looked at the time surprised at how long you had stayed chatting.

”Oh Al i would hate to intrude and its past this one’s bedtime” you said gesturing to the child, who had fell asleep in your arms.

Alastor hummed. He had grown quite attached to you and the little one, he had hoped you would take his invitation and stay the night.

Soon. 

You gave him a soft smile and went home.

Alastor was the most eligible bachelor in town. All the ladies swooned after him, though he never cared for the attention, but it was different with you.

He went about his evening routine when the sound of shouting could be heard.

interesting.

From the window of his kitchen, he had a perfect view into your home.

A man was standing in your living room, hands moving animatedly.

He scowled. Ah that must be your estranged husband.

You had told Alastor a bit about the man you were married to and how much of a bastard he was.

You were frowning and standing between him and your child.

The man advanced and Alastor thought to go over but to his surprise you gestured for the child to go to their room and got in the man’s face.

The two of you exchanged words and the man raised his hand and hit you. You stumbled back, seemingly shock and looked at him with disbelief and something else.

You grabbed a nearby by lamp and smashed it against his head. The man went down and you jumped on top of him, slamming the lamp down over and over until you stood back up and there was blood on your clothes.

You covered your mouth, panic set in and you ran from the room.

Alastor’s lips turned into a smile and he made his way over.

He knocked at the door, basically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You opened the door, now cleaned “A-Al? What are you-”

He feigned concern “Heard a ruckus and came to make sure you and the tot were ok” You looked back into the house and then back at him.

”We-we’re ok” you whispered.

His brows quirked, head tilting “You sure Cher?”

You bit at your lip before opening the door to let him in.

Alastor’s eyes landed on the battered body of your husband and turned to you.

You were obviously distressed “Al he-he threatened me and then hit me and I didn’t know what else to do” you approached him,  almost pleading

”Please don’t report me. Pretend you saw nothing and keep. This between us”

Alastor approached the body. He nugded it with his shoe and smiled “Oh my dear I would never.  In fact, why not leave this mess to me hm? You look worn for wear ”

You nodded and sat on your couch and had a meltdown.

You just killed a man.

Your husband.

But you had no choice.

———————————————————————————-

“So you’re telling me that you been with Smiles ever since” Angel asked shocked.

You smiled “I mean it ain’t every day a man takes care of your dead body. I knew from that moment that he was the one for me”

After the death of your husband, you and Alastor started seeing each other more intimately. 

He had let you in on his true identity and the bond between the two of you had grown stronger.

He was an excellent father to your child. The little tot had even started calling him daddy.

But fate was cruel and after many years you died, ending up in Hell for the murder of your husband.

You had found Alastor and reunited, he led you to the hotel, where the two of you lived as a couple.

”She’s full of surprises I assure you” a radio-like voice said and you turned to see Alastor entering the lobby with your child in tow.

Yes. Full of surprises. 

For he would have killed the man himself if you didn’t.

it was only right that you were now his

[wheneverfeasible]

Confession

wc: 3k || rating: T+ || AO3 || cw: referenced homophobia, homophobic language || summary: Eddie comes out to Wayne

Eddie Munson was bi.

Bisexual, meaning liking boys and girls and anything in-between.

What. The. Fuck.

It was all stupid Harrington’s fault. Steve. God, why did it have to be a preppy jock? There were plenty of other guys that could have snapped that realization on him, but no, he had to watch Steve Harrington spit out demobat blood (if it could be called that) after ripping its fucking spine out that made Eddie realize ‘huh, I think I like guys.’

It wasn’t like Steve was the only guy he was attracted to, he was shocked to realize. No, now that he knew that it was a possibility, his obsession with some of the musicians of bands whose music he wasn’t even that fond of started making a lot more sense, as well as how he’d reacted to some of the guys he’d gone to school with, or who had bought from him, and Jesus H. Christ, that guy at The Hideout had been hitting on him, hadn’t he?

So yeah, Eddie was dealing with a little bit of shock at his attraction to his friend, as well as the fact that that attraction was also apparently becoming a legitimate crush. Because that was healthy and safe to do. Especially when last he knew, Steve was still hung up on Nancy. And in a weird codependent relationship with Robin. Seriously, if he had to listen to Dustin complaining about why Steve wouldn’t just date Robin one more time, he was going to pull his hair out.

But so Eddie was bisexual. That was fine. Once he’d had his little crisis—and he’d been given plenty of time to think about it while recovering from being the main course at the all-you-can-eat Eddie Munson buffet—he’d done a little bit of research into the topic. Which was how he’d discovered that he had unintentionally been telling every gay man (if he came across any) that he apparently liked to top and was into inflicting pain with his sexual partners (suddenly the guy at The Hideout made more sense).

And…okay, maybe Eddie left the bandana there. He didn’t know, but the idea of it wasn’t too bad. Maybe. Maybe he should look into getting other bandana colors too, just in case.

It didn’t matter. He was still inexperienced, had only been with chicks before, and even then there had only been three of them. Two of them had only slept with him for the story, and the third one…well, everyone needed a little heartbreak in their life he supposed. Maybe he and Steve could compare notes.

The idea of sleeping with a guy, however, was not…unpleasant. It took him by surprise, sure, but he thought he could be down to trying some things out.

That wasn’t the issue on hand, however. It wasn’t what was eating him up inside, making him nauseous as he gnawed at his cuticles, pacing back and forth in the new double wide trailer the government had bought for them after Forest Hills was repaired. (R.I.P. to his uncle’s mug and hat collection.)

And there it was. The issue. His uncle.

Eddie could keep it a secret, sure. Could stay firmly inside the closet he hadn’t even known he’d been in, sitting safe and secret. But…that went against Eddie stood for. Sure, he knew he couldn’t shout it from the rooftop that he maybe sometimes thought about what it would feel like to have one of his best friends’ dicks in his mouth, but this was his uncle, man. This was Wayne.

Christ, he wished he had Ronnie, his former best friend, here to talk with her about all this. (He had also discovered another identity he hadn’t known about, asexuality, which he thought was right up Ronnie’s alley and wished he could tell her, but that was impossible now. She’d left Hawkins behind for a fresh start and he couldn’t blame her.)

But that meant that he was all alone. He loved the new friends he had, loved his band, but…well, this was something a little more complicated. And he wanted to tell his uncle. But…

Eddie gulped, every crunch of gravel outside the trailer sending an electric current through him as his anxiety spiked. His uncle should be home from work soon. Eddie paced a small circuit, knowing he needed a cigarette but also not wanting to go outside. His uncle had declared the new trailer a smoke-free zone. He doubted it would remain that way after this conversation.

He’d like to think his uncle would be supportive. After all, this was Wayne. His uncle loved him, had been there for him even when his own father hadn’t, and had stood by his side even when the whole town thought he was some psycho satanic serial killer. Hell, Wayne had walked in to Chrissy’s mangled corpse in his trailer and hadn’t once suspected Eddie of being guilty.

But having a queer for a nephew?

His uncle was progressive, but that didn’t mean he’d feel as complacent about his nephew being…what he was. His uncle had taken him in after he’d already grown and never expected him to help with the rent money, though Eddie did anyways with the money he got from dealing. But so Eddie was an adult, had a GED to his name, and didn’t need his uncle’s charity anymore.

Gravel crunched outside, the familiar sound of a truck engine rumbling along, and Eddie knew his uncle was home. Fuck. He hoped he didn’t leave this encounter with a black eye. Or worse. Hell, there were some people in this town that if he told this secret to, he wouldn’t leave the encounter at all. Not alive at least.

He knows his uncle isn’t like they though. He knows. Still, the fear persists. He’d always known he’d be too much for his uncle eventually. Would this be the final straw?

Wayne’s footsteps sounded on the porch.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Eddie had, in case he had to leave quickly, already packed a duffel. He wanted to trust his uncle, and he did, really, but…but there was that sickness going around, and Reagan, and Hawkins was such a conservative town, and Eddie just couldn’t know, not for certain. Not with something like this.

“Heya kid,” Wayne said with a gruffness to his voice that spoke of long hours at the plant, though there was the small relieved smile that curled his lips when he got home and saw Eddie there. Like Eddie’s presence was a reassurance now. Eddie hated that he was about to ruin that all.

Because sure, there was a possibility that Wayne would accept him, or at least not kick him out, but Eddie had seen too much shit to think that things would ever be easy for him. It was the Munson Curse.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, and maybe it was the title, maybe it was the way his words warbled in his throat, but Wayne immediately stopped from where he was moving to pour the morning’s coffee into a generic mug and turned to face Eddie with a furrowed expression.

“Everything all right, Eds?” he asked quietly, hesitantly, and took a large stride over to where Eddie was hovering by the coffee table. He froze, however, eyes widening, when Eddie flinched. Wayne swallowed, his gaze darting over Eddie as though looking for an injury. “Eddie?”

He could do this. His uncle deserved to know he had a fucking fairy living under his roof. Maybe he wouldn’t care, or maybe he’d be fine with it as long as Eddie never acted on it, or maybe…maybe…

Eddie thickly swallowed against the rising burn of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted his uncle to know because this was a part of who he was and it was important to be honest with himself and with his only family member still alive that genuinely loved him, just…he hoped he didn’t lose that love with his confession. But he wanted Wayne to know. Even if it hurt.

“U-Uncle…” Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his tone almost pleading. He blinked back the burn behind his eyes next, willing the words to come out of his mouth. As soon as he’d fully realized the truth, fully known what it meant, he knew that he’d tell Wayne. No matter what, he wanted his uncle to know this about him.

Wayne’s face grew slightly panicked at Eddie’s response, the way he held himself, the tone of his voice, and Eddie could tell the older man wanted to reach out for him but was taken aback by Eddie’s earlier flinch. Christ, would Wayne still want to hug him after this? Touch him? Be in the same room as him? Breathe the same air?

Would he tell Eddie that Alan Munson had been right all these years when he’d continually abandoned Eddie because he’d somehow known his own son wasn’t worth sticking around for?

Wayne took another step closer and Eddie panicked.

“I’m bi!” he exclaimed suddenly, wincing as he withdrew into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he subconsciously braced for some sort of physical attack. “I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his words shaking.

There was silence, stillness.

Eddie drew in a shaky breath and risked opening his eyes to look at Wayne, expecting disgust, revulsion, perhaps even anger. Instead, all he got was…confusion?

“What?” Wayne asked, his expression full of his lack of understanding what Eddie had just said.

Eddie swallowed again. “I…I’m bi? I like…both girls and boys,” he clarified carefully, though there was a touch of confusion in his own words, his brows furrowing as they only seemed to stump Wayne further. Eddie frowned, figuring he was as clear as could be.

“Did…” Wayne began frowning a little himself, still looking confused. “Okay? But you’re lookin’ like you wanted t’ tell me somethin’.”

Eddie blinked.

“I’m bi,” he repeated pointedly, his arms dropping to his side.

Wayne rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling for a moment in mild exasperation before looking at Eddie again. “Son, did someone say somethin’ ‘bout it?” His lips twisted into a small scowl. “Did that Harrington boy say anything?”

“What? Jesus, no!” Eddie exclaimed, because why the hell was his uncle bringing up Steve when he’d just come out to him? His insides still warmed at being called ‘son,’ however. “Wayne I’m…I…” The panic started up again despite everything and he swallowed nervously. “I like boys, Wayne. I’m a queer.”

Wayne just blinked at him, his scowl turning once more into a confused frown. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Eddie exploded, not having expected his uncle to think he was making it up or lying. Jesus, and what a thing to lie about.

“Obviously,” Wayne snorted in answer, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze roam over Eddie as if looking for an answer. “But I need to know what this prelude is for.”

Eddie felt lost. He stared at his uncle in confusion, his earlier fear and anxiety slowly draining away as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His uncle sounded…sounded like he already…

“You knew?” he asked, voice soft and fragile.

Wayne’s brows lowered, and Eddie felt a little offended that Wayne was looking at him like he was an idiot. “Eddie…I’ve known since you were twelve years old and told me you thought Big Bill Broonzy was pretty after lookin’ through your mom’s old records with the biggest blush on your face.”

Eddie gaped. He vaguely recalled something like that, but that wasn’t…he hadn’t…Jesus fucking H. Christ.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Eddie huffed in sudden annoyance.

“I thought you knew!” Wayne protested, throwing his hands up and looking like he was losing what this conversation was even about. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve been makin’ moonin’ eyes at the Harrington boy and you didn’t even know you liked him?”

Eddie’s blush now could rival any he made when he was twelve. He stuttered, gaped, and dragged a whole handful of hair to cover his face in his embarrassment. “I know that,” he whined. “God, have I have been that obvious?”

Wayne snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved to finish pouring himself that cup of coffee. “Had me worried he finally said somethin’,” he muttered to himself. He turned to point the plain white mug at Eddie. “If he or any of the others do, you let me know, Edster, you got that?”

Eddie softly groaned, burying his face in his hands next as he stumbled back to drop onto the sofa. No wonder Robin had started giving him those looks. He gulped. And…and Steve. Steve had been smiling at him more often, was…was lightly touching him with lingering fingers, had even used that voice on him that he’d use on the pretty girls that stopped by Family Video…

Steve hadn’t been using that voice on any pretty girls that stopped by Family Video recently.

Gulping, realizing that that was not something he had the ability to think about right now, he focused on the truly important thing. He lifted his head to stare at his uncle with wide, shining eyes, his heart fluttering so madly in his ribcage he’d almost thought he’d trapped a bird in there. He licked his lips, eyeing his uncle with wary hope.

“You…you don’t mind?” he asked, needing to clarify, needing to know. “You don’t mind I like boys too?”

Wayne snorted, reaching for another mug and pouring it half full, leaving enough space for him to pour a godawful amount of sugar and a splash of milk in it, just like his nephew liked it, before taking it over to Eddie. He sat down on the sofa next to him, hanging it over. Eddie was grateful for it, even if it was room temperature now.

“Son, I know you ain’t lived here with me long, and I know your father…well, Al’s always had his faults. But we’re family, kid. I’ve loved you since the moment Elizabeth told me she was pregnant with you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, you hear?” He sniffed, taking a sip of his coffee. “‘Sides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with love. You just got lucky, and your chances for love have doubled now.”

Eddie glanced over at his uncle with a shy smile, relief and affection for the older man coursing through him. He cradled his own mug between his hands, drawing in a shaky breath. Wayne knew. Wayne knew and he still loved him. A small, tearful chuckle escaped him and he hastily wiped away one of the tears that fell down his cheek.

“Eddie…” Wayne sighed, sounding regretful as he set his mug on the coffee table and turned to properly face his nephew. “I am deeply sorry if I have ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you, like my love for you was conditional.”

Eddie hastily shook his head, setting his own mug down to mirror Wayne’s position, curling one knee halfway on the couch. “You didn’t,” he reassured. “You didn’t, I just…I…” He felt bad now for doubting Wayne. For packing a bag like he was going to get tossed out at any moment. For thinking even just for a second that his uncle would ever hit him.

Wayne studied Eddie’s face before letting out a soft sigh and a small nod. “I understand. It’s not safe out there right now, especially not with everything.” And Wayne didn’t even know everything. He couldn’t, not with all the papers Eddie’d been forced to sign while being patched up after everything. But he knew that he didn’t know, so there was at least that.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Eddie murmured. “I trust you, Wayne. That’s why I wanted you to know. As soon as I was sure, I wanted you to know.” He huffed. “Meanwhile, you knew before even I did.”

Wayne grinned then, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder, making the younger man grin back. “Here I thought it was just some unspoken understanding between us. Guess I know why you always seemed confused when I bought more mugs with rainbows on them.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “I am such an idiot.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Wayne relaxed against the sofa, making Eddie chuckle and do the same. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, boy. Just know that you’re safe here, and so is whoever you bring around.” He huffed. “Even if it is the Harrington boy.”

Eddie quickly shook his head again, his hair fanning around him at the force of it, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Oh no, Wayne. Absolutely not. Steve is as straight as they come.” He smiled a little ruefully at that, and though Steve had been smiling at him like that, it was just because they were friends. Expecting anything else would just lead to more heartbreak.

Wayne gave him a disbelieving quirk of his brows. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in response. “You thought he had said something homophobic earlier.”

Reaching for his mug, Wayne gave a one shouldered shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone projected anger at themselves outwards.” He eyed Eddie. “They good to you though? Your friends. You feel…safe with them?”

Eddie thought about that. He trusted them, with his life actually, and not just in the figurative way. They’d proven that they’d save him, time and again. He even had his very own brand new walkie-talkie and call sign to show for it. He was part of something bigger now, something real, which was just what he had always wanted. Even if it was all over, their little group was a forever sort of thing.

Smiling, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced over at Wayne with a soft look. “But no matter what, I know have you to back me up so…yeah, I feel safe because I know at the end of the day, I won’t be alone.” He had needed to tell Wayne first, but maybe…maybe he could tell the others too. Eventually.

Wayne gave a short nod. He seemed content with that answer. “Just remember to use protection when you bring your boy over.”

“Wayne!” Eddie screeched scandalized, but his uncle only laughed.

Of course, it still took several months to get there, but when Wayne came home early one day to find Eddie and Steve shirtless and making out on the sofa, all Eddie could do was give his uncle a sheepish smile.

When the next day Wayne came home and chucked a new pack of condoms at his head, Eddie just gave another scandalized screech while Steve, once again next to him, flushed a bright cherry tomato red.

They’d use them, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER X I.N ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: BROTHERS BEST FRIEND!CHANIN, READER IS WRITTEN AS SEUNGMIN’S SISTER (CAN BE SEEN AS ADOPTED), READERS AGE NOT SPECIFIED BUT IN REFERS TO READER AS NOONA, SNEAKING AROUND, FOOD MENTIONS, FINGERING, SPANKING, CHOKING, DEGRADING, PROTECTED SEX, SPIT ROAST, THREESOME, FWB, ORAL (M. REC), FACE FUCKING, AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.3K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n didn’t confide anything in Seungmin. She loved her brother but he was a menace. He wasn’t always but now they were adults, there was personal information she didn’t dare trust him with. Especially her interest in men. 

     Before he was an idol he always gave his unwanted opinion on the guys she liked or dated. After he became an idol, he still did but pretty much warded off any man for her. Including his band mates. 

     Y/n never would actively go after her brother's friends. If things didn’t work out, she didn’t want him to choose between family and friends. She wouldn’t do that. It was a little risky that she was one of their makeup artists and he’d helped her get the job to begin with. 

     But you can’t help who you end up liking. Especially when all the guys in the band were great men. 

     “Why are you assigned to do the old man’s makeup today?” Seungmin asked as he walked into his leaders dressing room, setting a cup of coffee down on a clear spot of her station.

     “Talk to my boss about it,” Y/n shot back at her brother

     Chan requested Y/n to do his makeup. Stating stay always thought he looked best when she did it for a performance but the reality was he just wanted more time with her. 

     Sneaking around was hard, especially when her brother was one of his little meanaces. He also felt bad he was doing it behind Seungmin’s back but who knows what god reaction would be

     “Thanks for the coffee,” Y/n told him

     “Whatever,” he shrugged then walked out of the room

     “I would have gotten you coffee if you asked,” Chan told her, setting his phone down. 

     “I think it was his random act of kindness for the day because i didn’t ask him to get me one.”

     “Think he knows?” Chan asked

     “You see him more than me. But we’ve never given him a reason to suspect us hooking up.” Y/n answered, “But you know him. He does random stuff all the time. I learned a long time ago to not read into it.”

     Chan hummed in response as she tilted his head back a bit not to strain her back any and applied his lip. “You’re all set.” Y/n said as she finished

     “Thanks. Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked her

     “Innie’s not home tonight?”

     “He shouldn’t be,” Chan said.” Though that didn’t seem to be a problem last time.”

     “I’m still surprised you managed to sneak me in,” Y/n laughed as he stood and stretched

     “Yeah. Just need to keep you quiet,” the leader joked then left the room. Y/n rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee her brother brought him and put her brush belt together so she could do touch ups. Double checking that she had everything before heading out to the rest of the stylists. 

     She caught up with a few of her cop workers. She liked them— which was a great thing— and they never judged her for who her brother was but she also knew people I in the beauty industry liked to talk. Things got around so never said anything about her situationship. It also didn’t look good for a makeup artist to sleep with idols from a professional standpoint. 

     Y/n spent most of her time running around, dabbing sweat from the group — slapping tissues onto her brothers forehead when the camera wasn’t looking and he teased/messed with her— and fixing makeup. 

     She was tired at the end of the work day. Makeup was not an easy job, especially on the body. She was packing up for the day when she saw a message from Chan on her phone, the reason she bought a privacy screen.

Chan: Still up for coming over and letting me take care of you? You look pet tired

Y/n: And what would that entail👀

Chan: mmmm I was thinking maybe ordering some ramen, putting on (fav anime or show), some pillow princess treatment

Y/n: Know me so well. Just let me know when to come over

Chan: Will do

     Y/n swiped out of the chat and finished packing up before heading out and going home to shower. Rinsing the day away then putting on some comfy clothes before Chan texted her it was safe to come over. She took the going  drive over then snuck up to Chan and In’s place. She texted him she was outside and the door quickly opened up, letting her in. 

     “He said he’ll be back in a few hours,” Chan told her

     “Plenty of time then,” Y/n smiled

     “Eat first. I didn’t see you have anything but coffee today.”

     “Yes dad,” Y/n joked and he smiled at her.

     “Don’t start yet.”

     The two sat down on the couch and Chan handed her her ramen bowl and turned on the show. Y/n smiled as they sat back together on the couch. Sometimes it felt more like a relationship with Chan but she learned overtime it was just who he was. 

     Chan cleaned up the food as she sat back and relaxed, a little giddy knowing what was about to come. The idol came back to the couch and gently pushed her back as his lips  attached to her neck. “Worked so hard today,” He mumbled into her neck as his hands dipped under the waistband of her lounge pants, finding she didn’t have anything under them. 

     Chan just chuckled and lightly bit her earlobe as his fingers spread her folds. “Gonna get yourself into a lot of trouble.”

     “Plan too,” Y/n answered 

     Chan smiled and pushed two of his fingers into her. Y/n curled her fingers into his hair as his lips pressed to hers. Y/n moaned into his mouth as his fingers glided in and out of her. His movements were restricted slightly by her bottoms before he moved them with his free hand and her help. He tossed the fabric to the ground. 

     Y/n melted as his fingers rubbed against the gummy spot inside her. Chan smiled as he continued rubbing that spot and brought his thumb to her clit. 

     “Chan,” Y/n moaned

     “Gonna cum for me baby? Make a mess on my fingers?”

     “Yes,” she replied

     Chan simply smiled and kept his pace until that damn broke and she shook under him. He didn’t pull his fingers out of her until she came down from her high. Chan spread his fingers in front of her face before doing his fingers into her mouth. Y/n wrapped her lips around his finger’s and cleaned them off. 

     Chan chuckled as he pushed up her shirt, looking down at her breasts, groping one of her boobs in his free hand. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and wiped her spit over her chest. Y/n half-smiled at him before he pulled her up and stripped her of her shirt as she did the same. 

     Chan reached somewhere out of her right. She watched him open the full wrapper and roll the rubber onto himself. She adjusted herself a bit before Chan stopped her. Manhandling her into the position he wanted her in before slowly pushing himself into her. Y/n moaned and grabbed the arm of the couch. Both were so entangled in what they were doing that they didn’t hear the door open or the footsteps. 

     Jeongin told his friends he’d be back in a few hours but the reality was his errands didn’t take that long, thankfully. But he still froze seeing the scene in their living room. Not that his leader was naked. He was very used to that, especially living with him now. What shocked him was he was balls deep in their friend's sister. 

     “Noona?” he questioned, thinking he was imagining things but the way they both froze and Chan looked at him confirmed it. 

     Frankly, he wasn’t upset nor was he going to snitch. He understood the attraction to Y/n. Hell he’d be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought about bending her over once or twice. But it seemed like a mutual agreement amongst all of them that siblings were off limits. Or he thought so. 

     “I thought you were gonna be out longer,” Chan said as Y/n grabbed her shirt from the ground and draped it over her chest

     “Finished early,” Innie told him. “I can just go to my room. I’m not going to tell Seungmin, what you guys are doing is none of my business.”

     The maknae didn’t say another word and headed to his room. “You’re the best!” He heard Y/n call before he closed his door. He felt kind he should have grabbed some food when he was out since he didn’t know how long he was going to be in his room. But he didn’t want to intrude. He was already suppressing the idea of asking to join them. 

     He had a small infatuation when Y/n first was hired. But he steered away when he learned that she was Seungmin’s sister. But he had practically walked into a porn and he could still hear it. Something didn’t settle well with just using his hand and eavesdropping in on his friends having sex. He also didn’t know if they were just fucking or if they were dating. But he knew closed mouths don’t get fed. 

     He opened his door and called out, “Can I join?”

     The clapping stopped for a moment. He was about to close his door and deal with his problem himself before he heard Y/n agree. He quickly grabbed a condom and put it in his pocket before joining them. 

     Chan had let her choose if the youngest to join. He didn’t mind sharing but it was ultimately up to her. He smiled as he hung her head over the side of the couch as Jeongin joined them, tossing his shirt off. 

     Y/n watched as he said in front of her, erection pressing against his jeans. The singer undid the material and pushed it down with his boxers. Watching her mouth open as his hard cock sprung free. He grabbed the base of his cock and pumped himself a few times before sliding into her mouth. Y/n moaned around him as Chan continued thrusting into her and Jeongin filled her throat. 

     Jeongin leaned forward a bit and slowly thrusted in and out of her mouth. Both men reveled in the choked sounds she was making. Jeongin wrapped his hand around throat, feeling himself sliding in and out of her throat. Both men feeling her tighten up. 

     “She likes it rough?” Jeongin asked, applying a little more pressure

     “Yeah,” Chan answered

     The two shared a thought for a moment before pulling out and flipping her around. Y/n squeaked as the adjusted her before sliding back in without a second thought, but didn’t move. She waited for a moment before Chan spanked her ass hard. She let out a moan and that made him do it again. “Fuck her stupid already, hyung?” Jeongin asked as he grabbed the back of her head

     “Not my fault she goes dumb on my dick easy,” Chan laughed

     Y/n looked up at the younger man, catching the siren eyes that drove their fans crazy. “Start moving.”

     Y/n slowly started fucking herself between the two of them. Whenever one of them thought she could go faster or she was slowing down— or maybe because they wanted too— they’d land a harsh spank on her ass. Her pace increased as her ass held red hand marks on the flesh. 

     She could feel Chan twitch inside her. On the verge of filling up the condom as she clenched around him. She felt his hand grab the back of her neck and rammed himself into her. Y/n moaned as her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head. Jeongin followed his leader's lead and started thrusting into her again, holding her head steady for him to use.

     Chan’s own speed picked up as he got closer and closer to his high. The moans he was so accustomed to hearing were drowned out by the second cock in her throat. He knew he could hear them any other time but he was so focused on getting to his orgasm he barely paid attention to it.

     The older male cursed under his breath and gripped her neck tightly as he pushed himself into her and filled up the rubber. Jeongin focused on his own high. Her warm mouth felt better than anything he had ever imagined before. He felt like he could cum at any moment and he was right. With a few more thrust, he came down her throat. Filling the cavern with his seed before pulling out. He watched as Chan pulled out of her from behind and laid her down.

     “I’ll get you a towel,” Jeongin said and pulled up his pants

     Chan thanked him as he took off the condom and tied the rubber off. Jeongin disappeared down the hall and Chan tossed the condom and grabbed a cup to let Y/n spit the cum out of her mouth if she wanted to. The makeup artist spit out the cum and thanked him as the maknae came back and handed the towel to Chan.

     Jeongin was never telling their friend about the situation now that he had been involved once. He went back to his room and let Chan clean her up in the bathroom before he cleaned up.

     Chan had helped Y/n into the shower and helped her wash up as she laid against his chest, tired from the work day and sex. “Want me to drive you home or do you wanna stay for a little longer.”

     “Can I take a little nap?” Y/n asked

     “You can stay the night if you want to. It’s not like Innie doesn’t know anymore.”

     “You’re right. I’m borrowing your clothes then. I don’t have anything here.”

     “That’s fine,” Chan chuckled

☾ ━━━━━━ KINKTOBER M. LIST     M.LIST    TIP JAR

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[theorphicangel]

thinking about gojo secretly using all your skincare products in the mornings especially when he has to leave earlier than you.

you don’t find about it for weeks and you always wondered why they ran out quicker than usual.

but it’s all fun and games until you walk in on him using them, in the wrong order, with your favourite pink hair band on his forehead that keeps his hair away from his face.

“what the fuck—?”

“sharing is caring!” satoru blurts out suddenly, his hands frozen to his cheeks whilst he puts on your mosterizer. “I need to stay young too, how would it look if you were the only one who had glowing skin, it would ruin my reputation.”

“ satoru—“

but you don’t get to finish your sentence because he cries out in pain, getting the product in his eye. it’s satoru what do you expect?

so you end up forgetting your reprimand and stand behind him, patting his back as he crouches over the sink.

he’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot.

[byerseason]

why byler is the only logical way to end stranger things: a personal opinion

long post incoming. i've been thinking about what else can they do other than canon byler or is there any logical way which would please everyone. but i genuinely can't find any logical ending.

first of all, let's see the options i heard from people who doesn't think byler is gonna happen.

not adressing will's love for mike, mike never finding out about it and will's arc simply focusing on supernatural part : well, we all know that's impossible. not after spending a whole season to show us his deep love for mike. also it's confirmed that an emotional arc for him is what is gonna tie up the story.

"his love for mike was for him to explore his sexuality, he's gonna have another boyfriend." : they could easily show it to us without bringing mike into it. the byers moving to california was a perfect chance for it since it's a place better than hawkins when it comes to LGBT, they could easily give him a love interest, include him to their journey to find el just like they included argyle and give him a good character arc in s5, just like robin in s4. well, they didn't.

"mike is gonna reject will" : okay, then what was the reason of making him fall in love with mike? did the writers want to write a horrible story for the only gay child in the group? especially after showing us how miserable he feels about mike and how much he loves him? no.

now let's look deeper at the character arcs. my biggest reason to think byler is the only logical way is: will byers

i don't think i have to mention how much will suffered throughout the show and how he needs the happiest ending. they left season 4 at a point where everything about that love triangle is unresolved and they're obviously going to do something with it.

we all know mike is the one who understands will the most. he always been, since the very beginning. we've been shown that their bond is different and special. in a scenario where mike rejects will, we all know this is gonna be ruined. will is not gonna magically bury his love and go back to being besties with mike. and for mike, it's not possible for him to ignore will's love for him and stay friends as nothing happened. it would ruin their friendship for absolutely nothing.they can't simply take the only one who understands away from him.

will said he wants to spend the rest of his life with mike for two times. even if he doesn't have any hope, he desires it. so why giving him a love that he will never have? in this scenario will's character arc is literally "the gay kid always thought he will never have love just because he is gay, he thinks it's wrong and he is a mistake, well yes, he was right! he will never find the love and just watch the other straight people have it. thanks for watching stranger things." will's arc should be an arc where he is proven wrong, where he understands it's okay to love, where he is loved the way he loves, purely. otherwise his character arc is gonna be useless. where did we leave will in s4? he was thinking there's no chance for mike to love him and he has zero hope-- he ripped off the band aid. if mike rejects him the character arc and all the build up in season 4 becomes useless. he was at zero, and he is still at zero.

like i said giving him an arc where he is loved the way he loves was easy to be done without mike but now it's too late. they made it super clear that will doesn't want to be loved, he wants to be loved by mike. mike hurts him yet he still thinks mike makes him feel like he's not a mistake at all. that's not a simple crush. that's pure love. as a writer of a show you don't spend too much time to sympathize the characters love to the audience -something you never did with your other characters, at least not as much as will- you don't show them pouring their heart to a gift, just to waste it, just to make the character feel the worst they can feel just to make the person they love happy. will loves mike such a way that he prioritizes his happiness over his. this is what is gonna pay off.

the second character whose character arc needs byler: mike wheeler

mike has always been the most complicated character of the show, but most of his actions have no explanation other than him dealing with his own feelings. the show introduced mike as the leader of the party and i think it's okay to say he was one of the main characters in season 1 & 2. what happened after s2? a crazy character downfall. the audience started to dislike him and think he is useless. he didn't have any character development in the past 2 seasons. why? why? why?

because we all just watched him struggling. dealing with something inside of his mind that we don't know.

let's talk about a scenario where byler doesn't happen. this makes all mike's arc about being a love interest since s3. no development, no explanation for his behavior in the past 2 seasons. of course mike is traumatized and never talks to anyone which effects his behavior a lot. but there's still an unanswered question. why is he distancing himself from will specificially? the writers showed us that they understand each other the best, they know each other the best and notice if somethings wrong, so why is he distancing himself from the person who he needs the most as a best friend?

this is where we start to think if the problem is will himself, for mike.

why did we make will fall in love with mike just for mike to distance himself from will for no reason and make will upset? did we want will to suffer for no reason or create an empty storyline?

if mike is not how we think he is, he is going to end the show with an empty character arc who is nothing but a love interest, a side character. if mike ends up how we think he is, he is going to be the best onscreen representation of internalized homophobia. people think he is useless or just an asshole but he will turn out to be a perfectly written character who has his own arc.

people love to say "gay people didn't exist in 80s, byler would be unrealistic." which is completely wrong. gay people DID exist in 80s and they DID find love. did they have peace? they didn't. this is why mike and will are gonna be a real representation. we watched all the real struggles they went through. even if we don't get to see them as a couple, they will know they love each other by the end and that's what matters. and there's nothing unrealistic about it.

[bangtanintotheroom]

Plug & Play (M)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 10.3k

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show!, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: SHE’S HEEEEERE 🗣️ the manifestation of my new love for yet another leader hehehehe 😚 I don't have much to say other than thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for doing a look-over, everyone enjoy and think of blond, rockstar HJ the whole time!

• Taglist: @loveateez @mellikestoread @itza-meee @roomsofangel @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @kiestrokes

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on the stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as that certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

Your roommate Yeosang worked as a bartender at a small yet intimate venue where many up-and-coming bands liked to perform, in hopes of recognition. He invited you to visit one night, knowing you loved to get a peek at new music. You couldn’t refuse the offer, especially when he snuck you a couple of free drink vouchers.

When you had come by the first night, you were surprised at the amount of people hanging both outside and inside the building. The couple of times you had stopped by previously to drop something off, only half of the room was filled. But this time had attendees hugging the wall and the bar counter, shoulder to shoulder.

Once you managed to reach Yeosang, you waited until he wasn’t scurrying with shot glasses to ask if there was a special occasion. He answered mid-pour and said one of the local bands was playing soon and their loyal fans flocked in when they got word. Leaving him to his work, you melded into the crowd, studying what the demographic was.

The ratio of women to men was in favor of the former, making you wonder just what kind of group was performing tonight.

You got your answer when the lights went down and screams erupted around you, nearly rupturing your poor eardrums. But when the lights came back on, you could see why.

Five insanely gorgeous men were spread across the stage, each with an instrument in their hands.

They all had their own aura, represented by their outfits and the expressions on their faces. Although, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

The one holding a shiny black guitar like it was his child.

His platinum blond hair caught your eye before you took in the rest of him. You liked how the sharp angles of his face had areas of softness that could disarm even the coldest of people. His outfit was flattering and a good balance of comfortable yet showy. But his smile was what nearly knocked you off your feet.

The way his white teeth would often flash while he strummed his instrument had a grin coming up on your own face. You could see that he was someone who cherished his craft by the way he’d keep up with the other members’ pace. And he would never stay in one place; you’d often catch him jumping around on the stage, from standing next to the drummer to nearly teetering on the edge in front of fans.

Plus, he was just adorable. But the cuteness would go into its hiding place at times, leaving a man that began altering your brain chemistry.

Too many times did you find your breath hitching whenever he’d throw his head back, mouth agape as he got into the music, fixated on the drops of sweat rolling down his neck. Or whenever he’d lower his head, looking up into the crowd with the wickedest of smirks that had you fantasizing about a certain position that would grant that view as well.

Before your mind could fully catch up on whatever was happening in front of your eyes, cheers erupted around you. You blinked into reality and watched as the band waved and thanked everyone for attending tonight before making their way off the stage. You were jostled into moving when an attendee bumped your shoulder, shooting an apology to your still form.

Desperately needing to decompress, you ran to the bar to catch Yeosang as he finished making a tray of shots. He could tell by the look on your face that he made a good choice in inviting you out before your mouth began running a mile a minute. You didn’t care if he wasn’t able to hear half of your ramblings, running to continue doing his job as a sudden wave of people came by.

Your excitement had to get out of your system somehow.

But it turns out even that wasn’t enough.

You would keep thinking about the handsome guitarist on a day to day basis, at the most inopportune moments. It didn’t help that you would look up the band’s music online and listen during your commutes and free time. They legitimately made good tunes, playing to their strengths and composing lyrics that wouldn’t escape your head.

Lyrics that were joined by the constant flashing of a devious smile.

And so you found yourself returning to the venue for their next show. To say Yeosang was stunned by your surprise appearance was an understatement. You managed to shrug it off and say that you were starting to become a budding fan of Halazia.

It was technically the truth. He didn’t need to know about your other reason…yet.

With this visit, you were hoping you’d catch the blond doing something that would kill your interest or that your eye would wander onto some of his bandmates instead.

You realized by the end of the performance that it was futile.

Not even the drummer going shirtless halfway through to show off his well-muscled physique could completely distract you from the fully clothed one wailing on his guitar. Trudging out of the building with two cocktails down had you realizing how doomed you were.

When your titillating thoughts started forming into full-blown fantasies, you had to come up with a solid way to get them to disappear. At first, you hoped your hand and a few explicit videos would be enough, but even that got old after a while.

Which led to your current objective as you watched the band continue to set up for the night.

It might be a pipe dream, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried, right?

Yeosang thought it was ridiculous, but never said it was impossible or a bad idea. He begrudgingly supported you from the sidelines, even if he called you crazy at times. A true friend, through and through.

“Oh, don’t I know it. You kept hounding me for weeks to help you put your bookshelf up.”

“And you did such a fantastic job! Shit would have fallen apart if I did it myself.”

Yeosang shook his head at your flattery, yet the tiniest of smiles tugged at his mouth. “Uh huh.”

Giggling, you picked up your glass and finished off the last sip. After you set it down, you sensed a person coming up to stand next to you.

“Yeosang!”

The bartender grinned at them. “Yunho! Amazing job, as always.”

“Ah, stop, you say that every time. Do you mind if I put in an order?”

“Not at all. What would you like?”

Curiosity got the best of you and you looked up to see what this Yunho looked like. Imagine your surprise when you saw the bassist of Halazia standing next to you. Damn, he was tall.

“Two rounds of shots and eight beers, please.”

Yeosang lifted his brow in that fashion of his before replying, “Eight? Not ten?”

Yunho sighed and shrugged. “Seonghwa is feeling fussy tonight and San needs to be able to walk home.”

“Makes sense. Alright, give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Yunho seemed to notice you watching the conversation now, giving you a polite smile before heading back to his table. Your eyes followed him until he sat down, switching targets to take in the blond man with a megawatt smile next to him. Just watching as he threw his head back and laughed had your heart pumping faster.

You couldn’t hold off any longer. You had to do something tonight.

Your mind began coming up with a plan on how to approach while you turned back around, watching as Yeosang began putting together the drinks.

“Damn, big order.”

“Tell me about it. They must be parched after their performance.”

You studied the two trays as he started filling it with shot glasses and beer bottles, knowing that he’d have to make two trips to get everything there.

…or just one trip, if he had an extra set of hands.

You could see the lightbulb start to flicker on now. A simple yet effective plan to get within speaking distance of the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for the last couple of weeks came to fruition. You committed to your decision just as the bartender finished up the order.

Okay. Showtime.

“Hey Yeo—” Your roommate paused as he was reaching for one of the full drink trays. “—need some help there?”

Yeosang blinked owlishly at your offer.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Y/N. It wouldn’t be good if you dropped these.”

“Hey now, I used to be a waitress, remember? Come on, it’ll save you some time.”

You watched as he pondered for a moment, grinning in triumph when he nodded.

“Alright, grab one and let’s go.”

A salute was given as you hopped off your stool, carefully reaching for one of the trays and lifting it above your shoulder. Muscle memory took over as you balanced it, waiting until Yeosang came out from behind the counter and led the way. You made sure to not run into anyone and kept an eye out for any sudden surprises, thankful when you reached the table in one piece.

And even more thankful at one of the pairs of eyes that landed on you.

“Our savior!”

The one man you recognized as the lead singer rejoiced as you and Yeosang set the trays down on the table, bringing a giggle out of you.

“Jongho, I didn’t hear water in Yunho’s order…”

Yeosang’s playfully stern tone made Jongho wave a hand in the air. “Water, shmater, we’re big boys! We can hold our drinks!”

“We can, not this one, though.”

The next one that piped up was the unusually beautiful man you saw strumming away at his rhythm guitar, pointing to the pouting drummer who now wore a white tee.

“Hyung, don’t call me out like that!”

“San, we had to carry you out the last time, we’re not looking for a repeat.”

Your focus was now on the object of your desires as he gave San a strict yet concerned look, the expression only making him look even better.

“You won’t, that’s why I passed on the beer!”

The guitarist made an unconvinced sound. “We shall see.”

Yeosang chuckled and interjected, “I’ll bring some water over, just to be safe. Sound good, Hongjoong?”

Now you learned that the man you had been eyeing up was Hongjoong, trying not to stare too hard as he grinned at your friend.

“Definitely.”

He caught you off-guard by shooting you a smile now.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Your reaction was delayed, but you managed to give a nod, forcing yourself to follow Yeosang as he headed back to the bar. Only then did you realize you were holding a breath in, exhaling as you leaned on the counter.

“Fuck.”

“I thought you were going to hop on his lap for a moment.”

You shot a scowl at Yeosang as he worked on getting the water together.

“Yeo, I’m not that shameless. I was just…taken aback.”

He looked up to give you an unconvinced stare, paired with a lifted brow.

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

He looked back down in time to miss the middle finger you shot. While he continued, you started reining yourself in from the very brief encounter.

You learned two things; Hongjoong was his name and he was even more handsome up close. Stage lights weren’t over exaggerating his sharp features, his nose and jaw looking like they’d be able to cut glass. His grin was blinding and the teeth beneath them were damn near perfect.

Although, you wished you had mustered enough courage to say something to him.

It would be somewhat awkward to go back empty-handed and start a conversation with him, especially with his bandmates right there. Just because you wanted to get in his pants didn’t mean you wanted to come off as nothing but a groupie to them.

“Here.”

Your thinking was interrupted when two full pitchers of water were placed in front of you, prompting you to look at Yeosang with bewilderment.

“Maybe this time you can actually talk to the guy.”

His suggestion finally clicked, your eyes widening in gratitude.

“I fucking love you, Yeosang.”

He smiled and shook his head, giving one of your hands a pat. “You can tell me through your teriyaki chicken, Y/N. Go on.”

With a megawatt grin and a mental note to pick up some chicken to cook tomorrow, you lifted both pitchers before turning to make your way back to the table. You had to make sure your hands didn’t shake the closer you got, not wanting to spill water on any of the guys.

As soon as you were close enough, you cleared your throat to capture their attention.

“Your water, gentlemen.”

Setting the refreshments down brought a small wave of cheers.

“Thank you! Maybe we can get San out of here in one piece tonight.”

“Aish, stop!” San batted at Jongho’s head, the vocalist dodging as he snickered.

You grinned at the two’s antics, straightening up when you realized something.

“Oh, I should get you guys some glasses. I’ll be right back.”

You quickly turned around and power walked to the bar, asking Yeosang for a small stack of drinking glasses before returning.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking down to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

He returned your expression, nodding before replying, “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. Actually, you probably already knew that.”

With a little more confidence, you replied, “I actually didn’t. I’m pretty bad with names, plus I was too distracted by your performances to really focus on that.”

Hongjoong lifted a bleached brow, cocking his head.

“Oh yeah? You like us that much?”

You nodded with little shame. “Absolutely. I’m surprised you guys aren’t a household name by now.”

Hongjoong grinned, although it was paired with a slight flush of his cheeks.

“Stop, we’re not that good.”

“But you are! Look, I’ve been seeing local bands since I was a teen and I can say you guys are one of the best.”

Something a bit sobering slithered in his eyes as he stared you down, lips straight as a line.

“No bullshit?”

Now you managed to keep the gaze steady.

“None whatsoever.”

It was another few seconds before he finally took your compliment, appreciation written all over his face now.

“Thank you, Y/N. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course! I wish I knew about your music earlier—” You frowned. “—I’ve only seen you guys play a couple of times.”

Hongjoong shrugged, saying with more positivity, “A couple is better than none.”

You could see he had a point so you nodded in agreement. But all of a sudden, you wondered if you were bothering him. He had just finished a harrowing performance; maybe he wanted to kick back and relax with his friends, not indulge you with conversation.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hm?”

This hurt to say, but—

“If you want me to give you some space, I can.”

The musician gave you a look that came off as bewildered. “I don’t mind. Unless you have somewhere to get to?”

A hand came up to wave in the air as you placated, “No, I don’t, but I’d hate to impose—”

“Looooving youuu~ Is easy ‘cause you’re beautiful~”

Out of nowhere, singing erupted, prompting both you and Hongjoong to look at the source of the sudden noise. What greeted you had you chuckling.

“Seems like the drinks are already starting to set in.”

The blond’s wisecrack had you raising a brow as you both took in Jongho holding San’s face as he crooned a love song to him and Yunho waving his hands to the beat while Seonghwa pulled his phone out to record the tender moment.

“I can see that.”

Hongjoong scoffed in amusement and shook his head.

“Every time.” He glanced aside for a moment before looking at you again. “Maybe we should move somewhere quieter.”

The suggestion made your heart skip, unaware of what the intentions were behind it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” His sudden beam erased any doubt you had. “—I can’t get to know you with all this noise here.”

You uttered a silent thanks to both Yeosang and whatever being resided in the sky for giving you this opportunity. You held back a bit as you grinned and said, “Lead the way.”

Hongjoong was quick to stand up, grabbing his two beer bottles before jerking his head towards the stage. With a quick glance to make sure his friends were still occupied, you began following him. He walked to the foot of the stage and sat his drinks down, using his hands to lift himself and sit on the ledge. You followed suit, taking care to make sure your skirt didn’t ride up, sitting as close as possible without getting in his personal space.

As soon as you were situated, a bottle turned up under your nose.

“Thirsty?”

You blinked at the offer. “You sure? It’s your beer.”

The blond shrugged, wiggling the brown glass a bit.

“My beer, but I’ll make it yours now.”

A chuckle came out as you accepted the drink, peeling off the half-open cap before taking a sip.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So—” Hongjoong took a sip from his own bottle. “—are you a regular here?”

You shook your head.

“Surprisingly, no. I’ve been to almost every venue in town except for this one. Figured I’d give Yeo a rest from seeing me at home and work.”

Hongjoong snickered, lips curled in humor.

“Understandable. I’m guessing we were your first show here?”

“You were. Have you guys been playing here for a while?”

He hummed, looking up in thought before responding, “Kind of. This was our seventh performance here, but we’ve been playing at other places too. I’d have to say this is the best looking one, by far.”

“Let me guess—” Your mouth twisted up on one side. “—you’ve performed at Miroh?”

The way Hongjoong grimaced was enough of an answer for you.

“Sadly. Never again. Yunho almost got a bottle to the head because his amp was a little too loud.”

“Yikes.”

The two of you decided to move away from the topic of horrendous dive bars and to lighter ones, from behind the scenes knowledge about Halazia to what you did outside of going to concerts. You liked that Hongjoong had an equal part in the conversation continuing, not wanting to come off as desperate and scrambling for something else to talk about.

Not that you couldn’t find anything.

He was rather easy to talk to, paying close attention whenever you spoke and answering your questions with thoroughness. The way he would motion with his hands at certain points endeared him to you, smiling and giggling with admiration at his theatrics. It was also fun just to watch him, in general.

“So how do you like living with Yeosang?”

The subject change surprised you a bit, but you answered after finishing off your beer. “No complaints on my end. Well, except that he can be a space cadet at times.”

Hongjoong snickered over the lip of his bottle.

“Not surprised he’s still like that.”

Your ears perked at his statement, giving him a curious stare.

“Still?”

“Mhm. We used to live together, at one point.”

If you were in the middle of drinking, you would have had to hold back from choking or spitting in shock.

“Really?!”

Hongjoong nodded, lips stretched at your stunned reaction.

“He mentioned having a roommate before me, but I never would have dreamed that it’d be you.”

The musician shrugged and replied, “To be fair, I wasn’t around much. Spent most of my time at the studio or at work. I only moved out when Seonghwa got a spot open at his place.”

Following along with his explanation, you decided to be mischievous and question, “Was it that or did you drive poor Yeo crazy?”

Hongjoong feigned offense, a twinkle in his widened eyes as he leaned back.

“Y/N, are you accusing me of being a bad roommate?”

You couldn’t hold the urge to lightly tap your foot against his, smirking with impishness.

“And what if I am?”

Lifting a bleached brow, the guitarist leaned towards you, making your heart beat quicker with how close he got. Close enough for him to whisper, “Then I’d have to defend myself against that.”

Your eyes remained locked with his, jerking your chin lightly before challenging, “Go on, then.”

Hongjoong seemed pleased with your encouragement, setting his now empty bottle to the side as the gleam in his eye shone brighter.

“I was well-behaved. Kept the place clean, rotated chores, minded my own business. Yeosang almost didn’t want me to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—” He chuckled. “—gave me the biggest pout when I gave him the heads up. Made me feel like an asshole.”

Your eyes rolled with no hint of annoyance. “Sounds like Yeo. But I guess you really helped take care of the guy, huh?”

“I sure did.”

Hongjoong lightly knocked his knee into yours, but it remained pressed as he purred, “I like to take care of people close to me.”

Whatever wholesomeness that statement would have had was erased by his actions. You welcomed the touch, though. It merely boosted your confidence and will to step closer to your long-awaited goal.

You did your best not to overthink as you gently rubbed the side of your foot on his calf, lips twitching at the subtle shift in his expression.

“What about the people close to Yeosang? Would you take care of them too?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow ticked at your question.

“Of course.”

Play coy, Y/N.

“It would be nice if I was included too…”

After you trailed off, nothing was said. Only sounds from the rest of the bar came through, various conversations mixing with background music from the speakers. But you weren’t too focused on that right now.

No, you were hyper-focused on the way Hongjoong was watching you.

The way his eyes traveled down your face and over your form let you know that digging in your closet for this outfit was worth it. Everything only became sweeter with what he said next.

“Taking care of you would be a pleasure.”

The heat underneath his words took your interaction to the next level, bringing a light feeling to the base of your gut. Thinking about what ‘taking care of you’ would entail erased the last bit of caution you had.

“Then maybe you can help me with a problem I’ve been having.”

“Shoot.”

You laid one of your hands on his jean-covered thigh, faintly feeling the muscle underneath twitch.

“Ever since I started watching you guys perform, I’ve been wondering something.”

Hongjoong jerked his chin forward, prompting you to continue. Not wanting to take a chance at someone walking up and overhearing at the last minute, you leaned in closer, almost brushing your lips against his ear to breath out, “I keep thinking about what it would feel like to fuck you. Something about you caught my eye from the jump and I haven’t been able to shake the idea. But there’s only one way I can figure it out.”

Your head pulled back enough to get a clear view of Hongjoong’s now intrigued face, shooting the sugariest of smiles at him.

“Will you help me solve my problem?”

Even though it was becoming clear that the blond shared a mutual attraction, a part of you couldn’t help but prepare for rejection. But your fear was allayed when he presented you with a low chuckle, followed by a smirk that was rife with teeth.

“Of course, Y/N. Although—” Now he came close to whisper in your ear. “—I don’t think we’re gonna find out by sitting near all these people.”

The underlying sensuality in his voice brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. Were you actually about to sneak off with Halazia’s main guitarist to help satiate the improper fantasies you’ve been having about him?

Yes. Yes you fucking were.

“Then do you mind if we have some one on one time?”

The hand that reached for your own to take it into a firm grip let you know that you hit the jackpot.

“Not at all.”

You were sure the rest of the guys eventually noticed and picked up on what you two snuck off for, but you couldn’t care less about what they thought. Your wish was finally coming true.

Hongjoong led the way, clearly more familiar with backstage than you were. The two of you passed a handful of workers, the man in front of you giving them polite greetings and acknowledgments. It was nice to see that he wasn’t one of those snobby types of rockstars.

He stopped in front of a door with a sign that said ‘Reserved for Halazia’, going for the handle before turning it and pushing. His hand let go of yours, only to motion you in first with a smile. You gave one of your own and stepped into the room, looking around with curiosity. It was a typical dressing room, nothing too chaotic.

But the best part was that it was empty, perfect for what was about to go down.

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down to gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

Hongjoong laughed at your quip before leaning in to plant his lips on yours, ironically making the first move into what was expected to go down in here. Not a second passed before you kissed back, upping the pace a bit. The two of you got lost in each other until he started walking forward, forcing you to step back to avoid having your toes crushed.

He managed to distract you with his skills as you suddenly felt something hard press against your spine. One of your hands went back to feel a smooth surface behind you, realizing that he had walked you towards one of the vanity tables.

A nip to your bottom lip made you focus on the bigger picture once more, answering back with a bite of your own. The groan that rumbled against you was nothing short of satisfying.

Hongjoong pulled apart to pant softly, “Nice to see you’re not shy.”

You brought a hand to the nape of his neck, absentmindedly playing with the short, blond strands as you queried, “You think I’d be back here with you if I was shy?”

He conceded with an amused ‘no’, allowing you to pull him back in for another kiss. The longer this went on, the warmer you were beginning to get. You skipped on a jacket tonight, leaving you with a thinner, long-sleeved shirt on top, but the leather skirt below seemed to be the cause of your rising temperature.

Time for it to go.

You released Hongjoong’s neck and reached back to unzip your skirt, only to feel his hands take a hold of yours. Lips pulled away to give him a confused stare.

“Uh uh—“ He released you before grabbing onto the hem and pushing it up with a smirk. “—the skirt stays on.”

Well then. Whatever he wants, he gets.

You nodded, bringing your hands away from the garment as further approval. He pecked your lips in gratitude and went for the top of your stockings next, shimmying them down until your boots interrupted the journey. Humming at the inconvenience, he unzipped before sliding them off your feet and tossing them to the side. You didn’t even get a chance to wiggle your toes as he continued relieving you of your tights, letting them join your shoes.

The slightly cool air hit your now exposed legs, but the heat Hongjoong directed up at you next erased it.

“Sit on the table.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his command, bringing your hands behind to hoist yourself onto the vanity. The guitarist was quick to stand and slot himself between your spread legs, taking your mouth in another hungry kiss. Even though he was doing an excellent job occupying you with his tongue, you could feel his fingers run down your hips until he brushed the soft skin of your thighs. You enjoyed the sensations, lulling into a pleasant vibe until he traveled inwards and stroked a finger along the front of your panties.

You felt him hum before he released your lips, giving you one of his sharp smirks.

“I hope you haven’t been like this all night.”

A giggle left as you bucked your hips forward. “I plead the fifth.”

Hongjoong chuckled and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Poor baby. Lemme fix that for you.”

With lightning precision, his fingers dove up to grasp the elastic, tugging the damp fabric down until it was pulled off and tossed to join its friends. The air hitting that area only exacerbated just how wet you were, thanks to the man in front of you. Although, he was swift in covering you with his hand, digits beginning to tease with confidence.

“Oh…”

The soft exclamation left when you felt him travel upwards and circle your swelling clit. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make a pleasant heat begin to form in your belly. Just when you were about to close your eyes in bliss, Hongjoong slid back down to play with your folds, the slickness allowing him to glide with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All this for me?”

Your reply meant to come out as words, but the way he spread you open made it turn into a positive hum. He chuckled at you, bringing his free hand up to rest a thumb on your swollen lips.

“You like how I’m playing with this little pussy of yours?”

“Yes—”

Hongjoong began stroking his thumb over your mouth, choosing to match the rhythm with the one between your legs, making your eyelids flutter.

“Is this what you thought about every time you watched me play?”

You breathed out, “I don’t know if I should say yes. Your rockstar ego might over-inflate.”

Hongjoong laughed, little offense in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind the push.”

You played as if you were mulling over a decision, trying not to crack the facade at the mild pout on his lips. Just when he was about to ask, you directed a smirk at him.

“This is tame compared to what’s been running through my head.”

Now you captured his entire attention, eyes burning with curiosity.

“Oh yeah? Indulge me.”

This time, you didn’t want to hold back, nonchalance coloring your face as you looked dead into his eyes.

“I’ve thought about how your fingers would feel inside me.”

The image of his digits flying across the fret of his guitar only emphasized your current pleasure, spurring you on.

“Wondered if they’d play me as well as you play your guitar.”

A low hum came from Hongjoong at your words, dark eyes twinkling with sensuality.

“I think I’m answering your question right now, no?”

A sudden strum to your quivering bud followed, making your hips jerk.

“You are—“ It took a second to find your breath. “—but I still have a couple more.”

“Oh?”

It was a struggle to speak past the moans building in your throat as he continued, but you powered through.

“Thought your head would look nice between my legs.”

You wouldn’t call yourself timid at all, but even this was a new level for you. To be so blunt with someone who you had only known for a short time was crazy. But the spark lighting up on Hongjoong’s face took away whatever shock you had at yourself.

“Is that so?”

Your nod brought the most salacious smirk from him. He moved his hands away from your body, disappointment at not having his touch anymore hitting you. But he was quick to bring up your spirits, placing them on your knees before spreading them further. He then dropped down to the floor, gaze still steady as he raised a brow.

“Like this?”

Your pulse spiked at the sight. It was a nice start, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“Come closer.”

Hongjoong obliged, cheeks nearly brushing your inner thighs now.

“How about now?”

Much better.

“Perfect.”

The guitarist chuckled, blinding you with his smile.

“Good. Now you can sleep at night.”

A mix of a scoff and a giggle escaped, leaning down to give his forehead a gentle poke.

“Thank you for your services.”

“Any time, baby. Although…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes lowered, looking directly at your exposed cunt. “While I’m already down here—”

You had little chance to prepare as he darted forward and ran his tongue over the entirety of you, ripping a hitched gasp from your throat.

Shit.

Clearly the one lick wasn’t enough for Hongjoong, going back in with a few more that had your head tipping back against the mirror. Soft pants left you, morphing into stronger moans when he directed attention onto your clit. You could feel vibrations from him at times, feeling pleased to know that he was enjoying this as well.

“Fuck, Hongjoong—”

He pulled off, lips glistening as he husked, “You taste fucking amazing, baby. Gonna make sure I get my fill tonight.”

Your lower body bucked at his words, shifting forward until your ass nearly went over the edge of the table. The blond shot you a grateful look for giving him more access, hands sliding up your trembling thighs to take a firm hold of your hips before continuing his actions.

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on him the entire time, but he was too damn good.

Certain moves would make you throw your head back, whining as Hongjoong worked you up with his mouth. You got frustrated at one point when your skirt partially obscured his handsome face. A grunt left your lips before you reached down and tugged the offending fabric up even higher, giving you a clearer view of him eating your pussy.

Watching him had you transfixed, seeing his eyes closed for a good moment as he indulged in you. Though they would open up soon, focusing on you with a heat and precision that you’d only see a fraction of while he was on stage. You weren’t uncomfortable with the stare at all.

It turned you on beyond all belief.

Your fingers tangled into his short, blond strands, feeling the slight perspiration on his scalp. Whether it was leftover from the show or because of the current situation, you didn’t know. You gave the lightest of pulls, subtly asking for more.

Hongjoong raised a brow before moving his mouth away, just a few centimeters. He then went and stuck his tongue out, running the flat of it from the bottom of your slit up until he reached your clit, giving it a harsh flick.

“Oh fuck—“

A short chuckle washed over your area before he did the move again. And again. And again.

“You’re gonna kill me, swear to God.”

The musician giggled at your claim, eyes and nose scrunching with humor.

“You’ll live. But in case you don’t—“ You felt something prodding your entrance, looking down to see one of his fingers there. “—I need to see how good this pussy feels first.”

Hongjoong began sliding it in, your grip on your skirt tightening as he stretched you out a bit. He was quick to start thrusting, pausing at one point to curl and search for that sweet spot inside. When you felt him brush against it, you squeezed around his finger, bringing a triumphant smirk to his face.

“Right there, baby?”

“Right there—!”

He paired his cooing with a solid pump into the area, ruining whatever composure you had. There was no mercy as he kept on with the movements, making you squirm on his digit as a ball of pleasure started to form in your gut. Unable to take anymore of his teasing, you pulled his head closer again before pleading, “Keep eating my pussy, please.”

Hongjoong had no qualms about your begging, groaning lowly before diving back in.

The dual sensations of his mouth and finger working together pushed you higher and higher towards a precipice. Your own lips were babbling praises and noises to let him know how fucking good he was at this. He never pulled off to banter like before, laser-focused on your pleasure. All you received were his sharp brown eyes, watching you like a hawk.

Just when you felt yourself getting close, you tugged at Hongjoong’s hair. He pulled off, albeit reluctantly, shooting you a questioning stare. You gave a wobbly grin, bringing him back in until his wet lips were level with your pulsating nub.

“I come easier this way.”

Thankful for your advice, the guitarist winked before giving his undivided attention there. As you expected, your high raced towards you in no time, showing itself as you cried out and clamped down on his still thrusting finger. Your entire body trembled while he continued to roll his tongue over you, hand letting go of his hair at some point so as to not pull any strands out by accident.

Finally, the tremors stopped, making you slump against the mirror like a limp noodle. Your eyes couldn’t help but shut, feeling more tired than content thanks to the good orgasm.

A good orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of Hongjoong.

“You still alive up there?”

The teasing made your eyes open, shooting a deadpan expression down at his beaming face.

“Nope. Died and went to heaven. Murderer.”

Hongjoong cackled at your quip, standing up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send my condolences to Yeosang.”

Now you laughed, reaching for the lapels of his star-printed jacket to tug him in for a deep kiss. Your tongue was quick in meeting up with his, tasting the lingering of your arousal. The longer your lips were locked, the faster your desire returned, wanting to take this even further. You needed to see how his cock would feel inside you, fucking you until your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Hongjoong removed his lips to catch his breath, hot puffs of air washing over your swollen ones before he husked, “Satisfied?”

You knew your answer right away.

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

The guitarist’s head shook. “I was hoping you would say that—” He took the chance to come closer, pressing his concealed cock into your bare thigh. “—didn’t want to let you out of here just yet.”

Your mouth twisted into a delighted smirk, pleased at the mutual feeling.

“Good, because I also thought about how it would feel if you fucked me.”

Now that you threw your final thought out into the open, the goalpost looked clearer than ever. Especially when Hongjoong presented you with the slyest grin you had ever seen on him. The ones he would give on stage paled in comparison to this.

“Is that right?”

When you nodded, his hand came up to hold your chin. A thumb tapped against it as he purred, “The feeling’s mutual.”

A peck landed on your lips before Hongjoong stepped away to head to the opposite side of the room where a few duffel bags laid. He began rummaging in one of them, standing once he found whatever he was looking for. That something was revealed to be a condom when he turned around. You were glad he wasn’t averse to protection; as horny as you were for him, your safety came first.

But just as he was about to make his way back, a few knocks came from the door.

Your expressions matched with irritation as you both frowned at the interruption. Hongjoong gave you an apologetic look before calling out, “Yes?”

“Hyung, it’s me!”

Because you were further from the muffled voice, you couldn’t decipher who was there until the guitarist swore quietly.

“Jongho, I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I know, but I really need something from inside! Can you just grab it for me, please?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he seemed to debate on telling his bandmate to either leave or give him a moment. He went with the latter as he stomped over to the door, unlocking and opening it enough to poke his head out and avoid Jongho witnessing you in your partially-undressed state.

“What do you need?”

“Hyung, I need some condoms.”

“Why didn’t you pick them up when we were in here earlier?”

You could picture the vocalist shrugging, wide eyes adding to his defensive expression.

“I didn’t think I needed them! But Lia sent me a message a few minutes ago and she lives right down the road, so…”

You heard Hongjoong sigh before telling him to wait one second. He shut the door, turning and mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’, to which you waved him off with little bother. A momentary interruption was better than losing your entire chance.

He ran back to his bag to grab a handful of the foil packets before jogging back to the door, opening it and stretching his arm out.

“Here. Now can you promise you or the others won’t bother me until I come back?”

“Of course, captain! Have fun!”

Hongjoong shook his head at his bandmate’s well wishes, but saw him off with a chuckle and a humored goodbye before shutting and locking the door once more. With a swiftness, he turned and ran back over to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

Hongjoong looked grateful for your nonchalance, setting the condom down next to you before shucking his jacket off and tossing it to the side. Your eyes couldn’t hold back from raking over the skin now exposed, toned arms and shoulders causing your mouth to water. Just as you peeped the ink scrawled on one of his inner biceps, he started undoing his pants, bringing your attention to something even more interesting as he lowered them.

He caught your stare, smirking at how little modesty you had before reaching for the foiled wrapper. His hands were steady yet swift as he opened and slid the protection onto his stiff dick. As soon as he finished, Hongjoong grabbed your hips, tugging you down just enough to rest his tip against the apex of your thigh.

“Ready for me, beautiful?”

With little apprehension, you reached between your bodies to take a hold of him, lining up with your weeping entrance before giving him a confident nod. As soon as he earned your approval, the musician shifted forward, parting your folds until he started spreading you open. Both of your breaths hitched at the sensation, feeling his ringed fingers dig further into your hips.

“You’re just swallowing me up—“

Hongjoong’s gritted growl made your walls pulsate around his cock for a moment, proving his observation correct. Once he got in as far as you were pleased with, you took a hold of his waist before husking, “Fuck me already.”

A sharp inhale was all you got as you felt him slightly pull out before entering at a quicker pace. The rhythm built up soon enough, giving you the friction you oh so desired.

You were finally getting your wish.

Hongjoong was no slouch in this department, delivering strokes that were the right balance between gratifying and not quite enough. Perfect to have you whining for more a few minutes in.

“Hongjoong, give it to me—”

“Mm? Want me to fuck you harder, baby?”

The hold you had on his shirt tightened.

“Please.”

The chuckle you received had a thrill running down your spine, only to be replaced with a sharper sting as soon as he started plunging into you harder.

“So generous, letting me fuck this pussy how I really want to—”

Between the elevated pleasure and the way he hissed out his words, you were living the dream. You tried to fire back with your own quips, but couldn’t keep up with the way the blond was doing you and staring you down with those dark eyes of his. All you could do to let him know how good you were feeling was to tug him into messy kisses and rubs of your hands along his clothed torso. It seemed to be enough for him, judging by the groans you’d hear or feel.

At one point, Hongjoong pulled away from your lips, his own bearing hints of your smudged lipstick. Your fixation on his appearance was interrupted when he boldly stated, “Wish I could’ve been more thorough about this.”

Your head tilted as you asked, “What do you mean?”

His mouth twisted as if you made a joke, pausing his hips to make sure you focused on what he was about to say.

“I mean, I would’ve liked to do this somewhere a little more private. Because it’s a shame I can’t see all of you right now.”

His admission made your pussy flutter around him, watching as he looked over your still-covered body with heavy and curious eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind having more time to see what else is running through this pretty head of yours.”

He wanted to know what else you would have done with him, huh? There was one little act that you both skipped over, for time’s sake.

“Actually…there’s one thing I forgot to mention.”

Hongjoong’s brow lifted as you took a hold of one of the hands on your body and brought it close to your swollen lips. Making sure to keep eye contact, you rested his index and middle finger on your bottom lip before purring, “I’ve thought about how nice it’d be to suck your dick.”

Before you could get a reaction, you slipped his digits into your mouth, starting to gently suck them as if you were actually carrying out your wish.

The variety of emotions that came over Hongjoong’s face only upped your confidence, bobbing your head carefully to really sell the act. Only then did he finally say something, husking, “Fuck, baby— I’m really missing out right now, huh?”

A wink was what you gave, followed by your tongue beginning to swirl around the appendages, eyes fluttering shut as you pictured a different scenario.

Hongjoong leaning against this very vanity table, pants and briefs pulled halfway down. Watching close as you sat on your knees and worked his cock over with your mouth. You could feel his hips tremble occasionally, surely holding back from the primal urge to fuck into your hot and wet cavern.

But just as you were getting deep into your fantasy, the fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open as you made a mild noise of surprise, only for them to widen at the hungry look on his sweat-beaded face. The same hand was quick to grab your jaw, Hongjoong leaning in so close that you could feel his harsh breath mingling with yours as he hissed, “Next time.”

He didn’t give you a second to process his foreboding words as he took your lips into a starving kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead laid on yours as his hips went up to a reckless pace, burying his cock so deep that your back arched at the sharp jolt of pleasure racing throughout your body. This gave him the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with bites and kisses, pausing at times to growl sheer filth into your ear.

Everything combined had your body giving in to Hongjoong completely, leaning back against the mirror as all sorts of sounds surrounded you.

The slight creaking of the vanity and the jostling of the bottles sitting on it.

The smacking of his damp skin against yours.

How the groans leaving him gradually became tinged with a hint of whining as time passed.

Deducing that he was getting close to his end, you took his hand and slid it between your hips to give him a hint that you needed some help. He was quick on the draw, pushing your hand up as he began circling and rubbing your swollen clit with a saliva-covered fingertip. This only made a long moan escape you, head throwing back as it didn’t take long to catch up with your partner.

“That’s it, baby— Gonna make this little pussy come all over my cock.”

Hongjoong’s thick declaration made your legs wrap tight around his waist and your hands grasp onto the damp skin of his bare shoulders, holding on as he continued transporting you towards your end. You could feel his thrusts become a bit off-centered, but they were still enough for you to enjoy, and more than enough to bring another orgasm.

You announced it through a strained cry of the guitarist’s name, digging your nails into him as you trembled between his tense body and the mirror. It only took a few strokes for Hongjoong to join, swearing through gritted teeth as he plunged into you as far as humanly possible, throbbing as he filled up the condom.

Once the euphoria stopped running through your veins, the urge to slump backwards came strong. You followed your body’s wish, letting out a sigh of fatigue and satisfaction. A soft chuckle sounded near your ear.

“Tell me about it.”

The tiniest of laughs escaped you before taking a moment to simply enjoy the peace in the room. After the two of you got your bearings, it was inevitable that you’d part ways and head home with your respective parties.

But for now, you’d enjoy the way Hongjoong silently hummed into the crook of your neck as you ran your fingers up and down his back.

Yeosang was polishing the last of the clean glasses and talking to San when you strolled up to the bar, a pep in your step.

“Hey guys!”

Your roommate looked up, scrutinizing your appearance with a knowing smirk.

“Well, look who finally returned.”

You waved him off, only to now hear San teasing, “I hope you didn’t wear him out too much.”

A light laugh came out as you grinned at the drummer.

“He’s still standing on two legs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, the guys and I decided that none of us should be carried out tonight.”

The two of you giggled before he stood up from his stool, stretching muscled arms into the air.

“I think we should start heading out as soon as hyung is put together, I’m sure the two of you are tired.”

Yeosang shrugged, although you could see the slight lidding of his eyes.

“Take your time, I still have to do an inventory count.”

San shook his head. “No no, you definitely need your rest, it’s been nonstop for you. I’ll go gather everyone.”

You were grateful for his insistence, knowing how stubborn Yeosang could get when it came to his job.

“Thank you, San.”

A soft smile was directed at you before the drummer went off to get all of his bandmates together. Now that the two of you were alone, you spun around and gave your friend a winning grin.

“Mission accomplished, Yeo. And it was so worth it.”

Yeosang flicked a brow up at your declaration while grabbing his tablet to take inventory.

“Please don’t give me details. I still have to work with the guy on a weekly basis.”

“I’m not, I’m not! Just letting you know that I got my wish and now you won’t have to hear your horny freak of a roommate lament on how badly she wants Hongjoong’s dick.”

He shot you an exasperated look, clearly not as enthused about the news as you figured he’d be.

“Excellent.”

Snickering, you gave it a rest, leaving him to his work so the two of you could go home ASAP. You turned to take in the venue, noting the janitor sweeping up the last bit of trash and the busboys wiping down the tables that were sticky with alcohol. A few minutes passed before you spotted Halazia, minus Jongho, emerging from backstage. The men wore varying expressions, but all seemed to have a hint of exhaustion as well.

Although, most of your attention was on one specific member.

Hongjoong looked to be the most energetic of the group, eyes alert and responses swift. You weren’t surprised, considering what the two of you went through recently. It might be a different story when he reached home, though.

After nodding at whatever Seonghwa said, his head turned, blinking as he caught you watching him. A blinding grin was quick to come on before he made a beeline your way, making your pulse quicken. But he stopped next to your sitting figure rather than stand in front of you, his gaze on Yeosang as he typed.

“Yeosang, we’re gonna head out now.”

The bartender looked up, only to refocus on his tablet after giving the other a nod. “Stay safe. Great job, as always.”

Hongjoong chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in slight bashfulness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that, man.”

“Well, you better. Before you guys get snatched up by some big record label and I’ll need to go through security to speak to you.”

You giggled at his quip, receiving Hongjoong’s eyes now. “He has a point. We might be demoted to fans at this rate.”

The blond’s mouth twisted into a smirk as he continued to look at you, saying, “Oh, I could never forget you guys.”

Thank goodness Yeosang wasn’t paying attention to the way you were being stared down by the man who had his hands all over you not long ago; he definitely would not have let you live it down.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Have a good night, Hongjoong, tell the others for me.”

“Will do, Yeosang.”

Hongjoong slipped his hand out of his jacket pocket before holding it towards you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked at the formal gesture from someone who was up in your guts, but brought your own hand up to allow his to take a firm grasp.

“A real pleasure meeting you. Well, officially, I mean.”

A short laugh left as you teased, “Likewise, Hongjoong. I guess we’ll see each other at your next show?”

He kept a hold of your palm as he flashed his perfect teeth and winked.

“Absolutely.”

You almost didn’t want to let go, but you allowed the musician to pull away. But then you felt something odd. Looking at your palm, you spotted a piece of paper, folded over and over until it was a tiny square. Thinking that Hongjoong left something by accident, you prepared to call out until he brought a finger up to his lips.

The motion quieted you when he glanced sideways at Yeosang before looking at the paper and then at your face. With that, he turned and headed towards his bandmates to exit the establishment, leaving you to stare down at your hand.

Whatever he left was meant for your eyes and your eyes only.

Curiosity took over as you carefully unfolded the note. You had to bite back a gasp at what was scrawled inside.

‘So we don’t have to wait for the next show to meet up’

xxx-xxxx

Fuck!

You almost slipped and swore out loud, but managed to hold it in. Peeking at your friend to make sure he was still occupied, you stared at Hongjoong’s neat writing, processing this new info.

He actually gave you his number! Was this how groupies felt? Or were you a step above them?

Either way, this was an unexpected development. It was luck that you were able to get close enough to Hongjoong to sleep with him, but to get this as well felt like a miracle.

“Hey.”

You swiftly brought the paper down to your lap as you peered up to see Yeosang, hands now free from the tablet.

“Are you ready to go?”

With a smile that might have been a little too enthusiastic, you nodded, slipping the note into your pocket.

“Absolutely.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[darlingbabyboo]

Hi, I’m mitsuyababygirl nice to meet you.

I just read your Fatherly Love and so sweet, I love it by the way.

I was wondering if you could do a request on this video https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Nu7w6F-Ico0

like how would Mikey, Shinichiro, Izana and Draken, Mitsuya Takashi, Baji,Kazutora,reacting to that video I send you ?

Feel free to ignore this request if don’t to do the request, I will understand.

Why Can't I Marry Papa?

I'm in love with this request, the video was so cute! I split it up so this is Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, and Baji since they're Toman captains! I'll do the rest in another part. Reader is a woman.

Manjiro Sano

"We're getting a divorce."

"W-what." You're heard a lot of things during your marriage to Manjiro. After all the years you've been together, you like to think that you've gotten used to his ridiculous nature. Especially when it's so uncommon for him and sense to come together.

You never expected to hear something like this though. Never in a thousand years.

You drop your knife slowly on the countertop so you're not tempted to do anything irrational. You turn around and are met with your husband holding your sniffling daughter, Keina.

You look from your daughter to Manjiro to your daughter again and finally come to the realisation.

None of this makes sense.

Manjiro sighs, "I've found another woman!"

Your heart clenches. Tears begin to pool up in your eyes. This is your worst nightmare, Mikey, with all his looks and charisma and success, leaving you.

You swallow, trying to appear strong when all you want to do is collapse. "Who are you cheating on me with?" You're proud that you manage to let the words out at all, while on the inside you're screaming to get on your knees and beg him to stay.

Manjiro gives a heavy sigh like it's a chore to even begin trying to explain what's going on, like all of your years of marriage have meant nothing. He rocks Keina gently, "I'm sure this one can explain it to you."

What?

You give your daughter a strange look, what does that mean? Had your daughter witnessed Manjiro with another woman, is that why she's been dragged into this?

You take a deep breath and pray that your tears won't fall, "sweetie, do you have something to tell me?"

Keina rubs her eyes with her pudgy hands.

"I-i wanna marry Papa but I can't 'cause you're with Papa!" She buries her face into her father's neck, trying to hide the fact that tears are flowing down her face. She's failing, horribly.

You look at Manjiro, and he gives you a toothy grin. You release the tension in your shoulders at that. Your heart starts to calm down, now you're overcome with love at your small family.

"Sorry hun," He rocks Keina, "I gotta pick my little girl over you."

You play along, shaking your head in faux sadness, "well, that's depressing, but that's just how life is sometimes." You walk over to your little girl and remove your ring. Suddenly, her tears ceases. She removes her head from her father's neck and she reaches for the gold band with wide twinkling eyes.

At the last minute, you pull back and she juts out her bottom lip. Once again, tears start to pool her eyes.

"But why Mama!" She yells.

You hum, "are you sure you want your Papa," You tease as you shake your ring in front of your eyes, enjoying how her eyes follow it.

She nods eagerly, "I do! I really do! 's not fair that you have him!"

Manjiro grins, ego stroked, "look, Keina knows what kind of catch I am."

You roll your eyes at his words then look at Keina again, who tries to reach for the jewelry with her small hands. You hold it back, "what about Mama?"

"Mama...?" Not understanding where you're getting at, she stares.

"Yep!" You pop, "mama's the one that makes all your delicious food, which includes your favourites: dorayaki and taiyaki!" You had learned to make it for Manjiro, when you two weren't dating and you wanted to impress him. It's to your luck that your daughter adores the snack almost as much as her father.

Your girl's eyes pop and she whips her head to her father, "Papa! I wanna marry Mama!"

You laugh and place the ring back on your finger. You give Manjiro a victorious smile as he tilts his head back and groans as Keina pesters him for his ring.

"You monster, you've turned her against me." He groans.

You place your hands on your hips and roll your eyes, "not my fault she loves her mama so much." Pettily you add, "guess I'll be the one leaving you for another woman."

Ken Ryuguji (Draken)

Despite what it looks like, Ken is the more domestic one of you two. That's not to say he's the best at it (you've got the burned meals to prove it), but his shops closer to home and more often then not, he's the one taking care of you daughter while you're at work.

Over the years, he's improved dramatically, so you're surprised to see Manami and Ken crying in the living room.

Manami is more dramatic, loud cries that you heard as soon as you opened the door (which means that, surely, your neighbours are going to have something to complain about later) but Ken's tears are less obvious, you only notice the small trail leaving his face as you get closer.

"What's the problem?" You question. Manami holds onto her father's leg, burying her face on his thigh. Ken looks up at you, like he hadn't heard the door open and your anxieties start to peak when you see how red his eye are.

"Yeah- um- no problem." Ken says, wiping away some of the tears on his face, which does nothing to make you feel better about the situation. "Don't worry at all."

"Of course I'm going to worry." You sit beside him on the couch, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on Manami's back, soothing both of them. "There's a lot of crying going on right now, what's wrong?"

Ken sniffs, and rubs his eyes again, "I think this one could explain what's going on." He nudges his daughter gently who lifts up her face and trembles.

You pick her up, and your daughter shakes in your hold. "Baby, tell me what's going on?"

"Y-you're married t-to Daddy a-and thas' not fair!" She says between hiccups of breath.

You crock your head to the side, confused what she might mean, "baby, why's it not fair?"

"I-i-i-" She gently rock her as her cries become more dramatic. Patiently, you wait for her to calm down a bit and speak again.

"I wanna marry Daddy!"

You blink, and when you confirm that she's being serious you restrain a laugh. So this is what your big strong husband was crying about, his little girl wanting to marry him.

"Do you...?" You murmur, moving her around so you can cradle her in one hand and hold Ken's hand in the other. "Okay, then we can share!"

She blinks, not understanding what you're talking about. You wipe away the snot and tears on her face. "You can have him today, but he's still my husband, so I get to take him back when I want him." You wiggle her and she giggles in your hold, her sad mood seemingly vanishing.

You take off your ring and place them on her pudgy fingers, you have to place them on thumb so it doesn't fall off. She looks at the ring in wonder. While she's preoccupied, you turn to your husband, who's buried his head in your shoulders.

"So, turns out you're a big softie." You tease. "Couldn't handle that your little girl loved you so much she wanted to marry you?"

"Don't bully me." Ken mumbles, "I couldn't deal with her, she's just too adorable."

You stroke his thigh, "my big softie." You place a kiss on his forehead, "my wonderful big softie."

Takashi Mitsuya

It's not unusual to hear cries from your daughter's room. After starting kindergarten, she's been introduced to this new world and and she's still adjusting being thrown into it. It is strange to hear them when your husband is in the nursery with her. Your husband's great with children (years of domestic work with Luna and Mana had allowed him to ease into being a father easily). It's no secret how much of a daddy's girl your sweet daughter is.

You drop the laundry basket on yours and your husband's bed and hesitantly walk towards the nursery, unsure of what you might find.

"Takashi...is everything okay?" You question as you start to open the door. You expected a lot of things, but not to see your husband holding back a smile.

You raise an eyebrow as your husband motions you to him. He wraps an arm around your waist and you lay your head on his shoulder.

"What's-" The problem you want to ask, but Takashi has already pressed a finger to your lips and mouths the word watch.

With confused eyes, you watch as Takashi gently rocks your daughter's crib. "Hatsuko, do you want to tell Mommy what's wrong?"

Hatsuko sniffles, "no! I don't want to be a bad daughter."

"You won't be," Takashi says softly, "trust me, you'd never be a bad daughter. Mommy's gonna like what you said."

"Yeah," You're not sure what's going on, but you'd never be angry at your precious daughter. "Mommy really wants to know what you said, could you tell me?" Your curiosity is also peaked.

She looks at you, trying to compose herself, blinking away her tears and rubbing away the ones that have fallen down her face. You wait patiently, as she finally puts herself together.

"I wanna marry Daddy." She whispers, sinking into herself like she's sorry for saying it. The tears start to pool up in her eyes again, you feel bad for finding the situation so adorable. She's obviously distressed about her desires, but you think that it's so heartwarming how genuine and innocent her desires are.

You look at your husband, who was the same love filled look in his eyes.

"Daddy says that since he's married to you, he can't be married to me." Your daughter continues to explain, "I'm sorry Mommy, I don't want to be a bad person, 'm a bad daughter."

"It's okay honey." You reach over and pat her head, "you're not a bad person. In fact-" You remove your wedding ring, "you can be married to Daddy, give me your hand." She reaches her hand out and you place it on her ring finger. She looks at the band in awe.

Her eyes glow, "thank you Mommy!" She cheers.

"No problem." You say, wide smile on your face, "now why don't you go back to bed honey?"

She nods eagerly and Takashi moves so that he can tuck her in properly.

"Daddy, we're married." She whispers to him, waving the ring in front of him. Takashi smiles, and places a kiss on her ring finger and Hatsuko's forehead.

"I know, I'm so happy baby."

You both watch as she loses her fight with sleep, and curls in her crib.

"Can't believe you're gave me away so easily." Takashi teases. You smile, going towards him and wrapping your hands around his neck, his around your waist. You place a kiss on his lips, filled with so much love that you don't know how you're meant to function.

"Can't resist my babygirl." You defend, "besides, like you don't want to be married to our little angel."

He looks at the little angel in question, who's now softly snoring. He smiles, "definitely." He turns to you, so close that your noses brush against each other. "I'm so happy for what we have."

Definitely. You nod, sinking deeper into his arms.

Keisuke Baji

"So you're married to Mama?"

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"Since before you were born."

"And you're going to be married forever?"

"Of course we are."

"So you're never going to get married again?"

"Nope."

"And you can't be married to anyone else?"

"Nope."

"And you don't want to be."

"Definitely not."

"But what about me!"

"Um- what?" Keisuke pauses playing with his cats, which lets you know that this is a serious situation. Almost nothing could tear him apart from his precious pets.

Chieko crosses her arms, her determined face weakened from how adorable she looks.

"What about me Papa!" She protests, "won't you marry me!"

You hold in your laugh at the conflicted look on Keisuke's face. You'd expected something like this, over the past couple of days, you've seen how your daughter's eyes would linger on the band on your finger. She's definitely been asking more questions about marriage lately.

When preparing for parenthood, you had also heard about this phenomena, children wanting to get married to their fathers when they're too young to truly understand concept of marriage, only that it happens between two people in love.

Keisuke looks like he doesn't understand how to handle the situation, dealing with an entire division of delinquents in a fight, sure, that's reasonable, but saying no to his little girl never.

He looks at you for assistance, but you only respond with a smile, holding up your phone and recording the scene. This is pure gold.

Your daughter's eyes start to well up with tears, "Papa answer me! This isn't fair!"

"Well, it doesn't really work like that..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Why not!"

"Um..."

And that's how you end up with an amazing video to show of your husband trying to explain marriage to your blubbering daughter, something that you definitely use on her wedding day.

Bonus

"Dad! I was four!"

"Nope, you said you were going to marry me and I'm finally saying yes!"

"Dad, would it kill you to get along with my boyfriend!"

"I think it would."

"Mom stop recording and stop dad"

"Sorry hun, this is just too good!"

"You're all crazy!"

Sorry for responding this so late! Some of these sound the same to me. I'll do better with variety when I drop part 2!

[veronicaphoenix]

talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck. 

            The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time. 

            “So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse. 

            Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

            “Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name. 

            But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend. 

            “I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy. 

            He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years. 

            They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

            Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has. 

            It’s not the first time. 

            Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him. 

            His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away. 

            He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

            Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed. 

            Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him. 

            When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world. 

            She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

            Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do. 

            The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her. 

            “But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?” 

            How did he know that? 

            “Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.” 

            That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things. 

            By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

            That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

            It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself. 

            He wanted the same.

            It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

            Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

            The problem?

            Nick is also there.

            For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

            Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

            The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

            “Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

            “Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

            “What? No. What if he hears you?”

            “I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

            He lifted his pinky finger to her.

            With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

            Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

            The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

            “What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

            “Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

            “I thought you were in your room.”

            “I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

            Pretended. 

            Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

            She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

            It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

            She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again. 

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

            It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

            It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

            Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

            That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

            “I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

            “We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

            “He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

            “Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

            She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

            “Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

            After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

            “I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

            “Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

            She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

            Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

            If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

            “Noah, have you seen my sister?” 

            It’s Nick. 

            The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

            As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

            “Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

            For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background.     Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

            It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

            Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

            “Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

            “Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

            She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

            It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

            He’s never going to forgive them.

            “Please, listen to me,” she begs.

            He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse. 

            “I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

            She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club. 

            Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

            “It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

            That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

            “You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

            “I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

            She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years. 

            “You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

            His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing. 

            Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time. 

            When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

            “I’m in love with her.”

            It just a sentence, but it changes everything. 

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

[giannan04]

Hi, can you please do a fluff featuring Han Jisung x Chubby Fem. Reader? Reader feels insecure about her body so Han makes her feel loved🥰

Of course! I’m on the chubbier side myself so I can definitely relate. I hope you like it🥹💕

You were lounging in your room, boredom settling in as the rain tapped softly against your window. The day had been long, and you found yourself caught in a cycle of self-doubt. You've been feeling insecure for the past few months. It started ever since you went with your boyfriend, Jisung, on his band's world tour. Stays, the group's fandom, were so beautiful, and you began to compare yourself to them. You even started to wonder why Jisung chose you as his girlfriend out of all the pretty girls he could have chosen.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted your thoughts, and you sluggishly got up to answer it. As you opened the door, you saw a small package lying on the welcome mat. Your heart fluttered—this was the delivery you'd been waiting for. You had ordered a bunch of new clothes online, hoping that the clothes would make you feel better about yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this new clothing would be the change you needed.

You carried the package inside, feeling excited as you carefully opened it. Inside were a few new items you had picked out: a crop top, some jeans, and a dress. You decided to try them on, hoping that the new styles might put your insecurities to rest.

First, you slipped into the crop top. It was a sexy black halter top. You smiled, anticipating how sexy you were going to look. However, as you looked in the mirror, your excitement quickly turned to disappointment. The top fit tightly, drawing attention to your stomach. Also, the top was cut way too short. You knew it was a crop top, but this one revealed too much belly. Your stretch marks, which you had been trying to ignore for as long as you could remember, seemed more noticeable than ever. The sight of the unsightly lines on your stomach brought tears to your eyes as you traced them with your fingers. You tugged at the fabric of the top, hoping it would hide the things you felt insecure about, but it only made them more visible. Sighing heavily, you took the top off and tossed it aside.

Next were the jeans. You squeezed into them, but they felt constricting, especially around your thighs. The way they clung to you seemed to accentuate the very areas you were self-conscious about. You stared at your reflection, feeling a pang of frustration as the jeans pulled and creased in all the wrong places. They made your thighs look even bigger than usual. You quickly removed them, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Finally, you tried on the dress. It was a beautiful light pink sundress, but it did nothing to make you feel better. It hugged your curves in ways that made you uncomfortable, highlighting the acne on your chest and shoulders as it did so. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling overwhelmed and disgusted by the sight. You had hoped these clothes would make you feel better, but they only magnified your insecurities. You felt worse than ever, your self-esteem plummeting.

Feeling defeated, you threw the clothes back into the box and shut it with a snap. You were going to return these clothes as soon as possible. You sat back on your bed, scrolling through social media for a distraction. But as you flicked through Instagram, the flawless images of influencers and models with perfect skin and slim bodies only intensified your insecurity. The comparisons were relentless, and you couldn't shake the thought that Jisung, your boyfriend, might feel the same way. Did he wish he were with someone who looked more like those models? Was he ashamed of you? The idea kept picking at you, deepening your self-doubt. You threw your phone on the ground and buried yourself in your covers, bawling. You weren't sure how long you'd been crying, but it must've been a while as you heard Jisung walking in the front door. He always left the studio late.

"Y/n? I'm home," he called. You stayed silent. You were afraid that if you opened your mouth, he would be able to hear that you had been crying.

Jisung kept calling your name until he reached the bedroom. "Hi, babe," he smiled when he saw you, running over to give you a kiss, which you returned half-heartedly.

Jisung knew something was wrong. He was always able to sense when you were upset. He looked at your face, immediately noticing your wet cheeks. It was obvious to him that you'd been crying. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You opened your mouth to say something, but you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm not enough," you cried. "You deserve someone prettier, someone skinnier. Why did you choose me out of all the girls you could have had?" You placed your hands in your face, sobbing.

Jisung's expression softened with sadness as he reached out to gently cup your face. "Listen to me," he said, his voice tender. "You are more than enough. You're beautiful just the way you are, and I love every part of you." The warmth of Jisung's hands on your face didn't even make you feel better. You shook your head, not believing him.

You tried to turn away, but Jisung held your gaze firmly. He tightened his grip on your face only slightly. His gaze was gentle and loving. "When I look at you," he continued, "I see your beautiful curves, the beautiful print of your stretch marks, and the unique features that make you who you are. I adore your thick thighs because they're part of what makes you uniquely you. They're also so sexy to me, and I love the way they feel in my hands when I squeeze them, and how soft they are when I lay in your lap. I cherish your stomach and the way you carry yourself. Your acne, your stretch marks—they're part of your beauty. They're not flaws; they're what make you special to me." Jisung had started caressing your body as he told you this. You didn't notice, but you started smiling. This was one of the many reasons why you loved Jisung; he always knew how to make you feel better.

He pulled you into a warm embrace, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you just as you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Your imperfections are part of what makes you beautiful. You'll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

As he held you close, his words began to soothe you. Jisung's words were a gentle reminder that your worth wasn't defined by your appearance or by what you saw online. It was defined by the love and acceptance you shared with him.

In his arms, with his heartfelt words still running through your mind, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were enough.

Jisung looked at you and smirked. "Now, get undressed so I can show you how beautiful you are to me."

[yridenergyridenergy]

Dir en grey interview translation notes around The Devil In Me

Just some of the more interesting bits from the single's booklet and from PHY vol. 25.

Kyo

He was the one who came up with the title, and the title was determined before they even attached a song to it. The band basically decided to set a date for a new single ahead of time, not too long after 19990120's release, then they had just one song selection meeting (usually, they have three) to pick a song to work with toward becoming "The Devil In Me". After scheduling a release date, they had to pick a title before even knowing what song would be part of that release for production/logistical reasons.

Kyo wrote the lyrics of The Devil In Me based on his sense of dissociation from world events, how his own issues are not aligned with what the world cares about. He finds that people's lives are sometimes pre-determined the moment they are born. It's really a reflection on: "Why am I the way I am?"

The chorus has so many layers because Kyo wanted to illustrate that inner evil, or wickedness.

While re-recording Yokan, Kyo realized that he used to sing in short bouts, taking a breath more regularly, whereas he's evolved to sing as much as he can in a single, long breath now.

The small changes made to the lyrics of Cage just serve to help Kyo feel more immersed in that old poem, but if he'd wanted to change the lyrics to represent his current mindset, clearly he would have composed a completely new, different song.

Kyo commented in PHY vol. 25 that if the producers wanted a band that sells a lot, they would have had to replace him with someone who is taller, has a nice face and that composes songs that appeal to a wider audience. But around their debut, Kyo had to bend to some of the producers' demands because he had to rely on their knowledge of what would make the band successful. He wanted to make a very dark band, but he had to accept to make songs like Yokan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to sing about corpses and internal organs to a melodious song such as Yokan (lol)."

Kyo feels like Dir en grey is the toughest band for him to be a part of, because the band's shows are especially mentally difficult.

Kaoru

The music of The Devil In Me was Kaoru's idea.

Kaoru agrees that the song kind of ends in a way that the band could have, in the past, followed up on with a second section of the song, but they felt like ending it in a more simple way now, which still represents the band's current state.

Die

The band had a discussion in a dressing room during Tour23 Phalaris Final –The scent of a peaceful death- and that's where they came to an understanding of where they wanted to take the band next. Kyo brought them ideas on what he felt that the next single song should sound like, but in the end, at the selection meeting, the majority of the band chose a completely different song than the other of the 5 that Kyo preferred. He's fine with letting the majority win.

Die started working out in 2018 to make sure to stay in shape for stage performances, and I think that he mentioned that it's important for him to appear young and healthy so that the fans who follow the band also don't feel old.

For Die, he was in part less active on stage during the Dum Spiro Spero era because the songs were dark and complex, so he had to focus more. Because of that, he couldn't enjoy the actual shows as much.

Toshiya

Toshiya mentioned that doing commemorative tours and shows is really just fan service.

Toshiya described Dir en grey as a group of five dictators. Their enemies and friends/allies are all inside that group, and the past 25(+) years have been a continuation of challenges to bring the band forward despite this type of chemical reaction between five egos.

Apparently the band never has casual "weird" conversations where they chat about their interests of the moment, but they quietly observe the others without interacting, like by observing what kind of clothes they wear or are into.

Shinya

Contrary to the band's habit, the vocals did not even exist yet when Shinya had to compose and record his drumming for The Devil In Me. When the vocals were eventually recorded, they kind of matched what Shinya had expected.

However, overall, a couple of members of the band feel like The Devil In Me might be a song that people react to with: "I don't get it", rather that just liking or disliking it.

Shinya dissing The Marrow of a Bone again hahah.

Shinya described The Devil In Me as mysterious, inexplicable.

He started taking some lessons from Buck-Tick's "Anii" (Toll Yagami) to learn a new drumming method. In the past, at the very beginning of his career, Shinya used to wear lead weights at his ankles to hit the pedal heavier and develop muscles, but Yoshiki and other seniors told him how to actually play and he quickly got rid of the weight belts.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 9 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, angst, SLOOOWW BUURNNN

words: 9.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 9 ► the silence is one thing that i’ll remember you said. well, it’s better than nothing when nothing’s all that you left

The next morning was warm.

It was such a stark contrast to last night that you couldn’t help but still feel phantom shivers on your skin when you got off the bus to stretch your legs. It was still two more hours to Oslo, and it was unreasonably early to be awake, considering you did not return to the bus until sunrise—a mere half an hour before the scheduled departure for Norway.

Everyone else was still asleep, which made sense: they must have returned to the bus sometime very late, too. Granted, when you and Jungkook reached the restaurant on Strandvägen yesterday, your team was no longer there—but that didn’t mean they went to sleep as soon as they returned.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected to find them at the restaurant anyway. But after the abrupt end of your conversation with Jungkook on the bridge, you had hoped for a distraction. Something to take your mind off the uncomfortable gaping hole inside you.

Jungkook had suggested last night that you take a taxi back to the tour bus, and you were almost ready to walk back on your own.

It confused you—this unexpected longing for something you dared not name—but it also frightened you. Therefore, you were glad that when the bus reached Oslo, Jungkook was still asleep.

You felt like you needed a minute—to convince yourself that whatever you thought you’d felt in the air last night was more wishful thinking than anything else. Because here’s the thing about wishful thinking: it was yours. And everything that was yours, you could extinguish. You could put it out like you’d done countless times before.

So, several hours later in Oslo, you gave Yoongi very strict instructions to keep the band close and make sure they rested before tomorrow’s performance. And then you took your girls to explore the city, sightsee and drink as much coffee as you could find.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, sightseeing was something he also wanted to do with you once you arrived in Oslo. He had a lot to tell you; he knew he owed you an explanation. He just wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened, let alone what hadn’t happened.

But when he woke up on the bus, you had already left, taking Maggie and Luna with you. So, not only did he have to wallow in his thoughts, but he also had to deal with a sulking Taehyung, who never openly admitted why he was sulking, but it was obvious enough. Even though he texted Luna all day, she wasn’t physically there with him, and that wasn’t enough.

Jungkook was annoyed. He should have seen this coming—he tended to sleep in while you tended to not—but he realised he had expected you to stay. He’d expected a reaction. Perhaps he’d hoped you would demand that he explained himself and why the two of you had gone from I-miss-you to let’s-walk-and-not-look-at-each-other.

Your reaction, however, was no reaction at all.

You and the girls went out, which for the three of you, meant getting ice cream and walking the city streets until you found something interesting. Sometimes this took up the whole day. You loved it—especially today.

But then, just as you were approaching what looked like a castle with crowds of tourists flocking to it—Luna discovered it was the Royal Palace, which should have been obvious, but you and Maggie still ooh-ed and ahh-ed at Luna’s Google Maps skills—your phone started to ring.

Licking your ice cream hurriedly so it wouldn’t melt completely while you talked, you walked away from the girls to take the call.

You were half-expecting an emergency, but before you could really be disappointed that you had to end your excursion, you noticed the unknown number on the screen of your phone. You briefly considered not answering, but you saw that the number had an area code from home.

You thought it might be your brother calling. Once again, you considered not answering, still angry at him for his recklessness and your mum’s tears. But responsibility won over, and you picked up.

On the other end of the line was a man asking for you. For a moment, you were confused, because the voice sounded familiar, but the owner of it didn’t seem to know who he was talking to.

“This is she,” you responded to your own name. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh, you sound so different for some reaso—it’s Nick,” the man said, and you stopped chewing on the waffle cone of your ice cream in surprise.

Nick Zhou had been your supervisor after you graduated and started to work at the company where you now managed Rated Riot. Back then, you were just an intern before being promoted to assistant manager for an indie rock band with the ominous name The Jungle Will Get You, when you were only 23 years old. Nick was their manager then, and he never admitted it, but you knew he’d pulled some strings to get you that job.

A little over a year later, you took over the management of Rated Riot, and you haven’t spoken to Nick since. He went on to manage Reconnaissance, one of the biggest alternative rock bands in the country, if not the world. Just being their manager made Nick more popular than Rated Riot at the moment.

You thought things had worked out well for you both, so there was simply no reason for you to stay in touch.

You figured the reason he was calling you now had to mean good things for Rated Riot. Supporting Reconnaissance on tour? Perhaps a collaboration?

“Nick!” was the first word out of your mouth after the surprise had subsided. “So nice to hear from you again.”

“I heard you were in Europe? That’s huge!” he said, which was kind of him, because Reconnaissance were selling out stadiums.

“We are, yeah. Oslo right now,” you said, smiling at Maggie, who approached you and tugged on your arm like a toddler wanting to go on a ride at an amusement park. Except in this case, the ‘ride’ was a wine bar down the street from the palace. You nodded, and that was permission enough for her to jog over to Luna and drag the two of you towards the bar, never mind that it was 3 PM. You said into the phone, “how are you? You’re going to Australia soon, right?”

“Next week, yeah,” Nick said. “The new album’s coming shortly after that.”

“Ah, another tour,” you said with a teasing chuckle—you knew how much Nick hated flying. Even the Reconnaissance members talked about their ‘air-sick manager’ in almost every interview they did. “Good luck in advance!”

Nick chortled in irony. “Thanks, I’m going to need it. That’s actually, uh, the reason I’m calling.”

Your heart rate picked up as the ice cream melted in your hand. “Yeah?”

“Yes. See, we had some—er, situations,” he paused here as if searching for a better word. After he didn’t find one, he continued with the one he had picked, “and because of these situations, I’m putting together a new team. With the new album coming out soon, we’re on a really tight schedule.”

“Right,” you said. You could already hear him asking if Rated Riot would like to be the supporting act, and maybe even participate in Reconnaissance’s new album.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” he said. “The management here is just me and this guy, Mark, who can’t dial a phone number to save his life, but he’s a great sport. Keeps the band alive. But I need more people. Preferably someone with, uh, experience.”

He paused meaningfully, but it still took you a minute to realise that he hadn’t contacted you about Rated Riot. He had contacted you about you.

You watched Maggie and Luna enter the wine bar, take your ice cream from you, and make a beeline for the cash register, all while you stood in the doorway.

“I’m—uh—Nick.” There was an uncomfortable lump of surprise in your throat. Your hands felt sticky and your mouth felt dry.  “I’m—I manage Rated Riot.”

“I know,” he said, “and they’re a very promising band, tons of potential,” he paused here, hesitating, “but I thought—well, this is sort of different, isn’t it?”

You would have scoffed if you weren’t so stunned. “Well, of course.”

“Yeah. So, I just—we need an assistant manager. Fast,” Nick said. “And you were the first person I thought of. I mean, we’ve worked together before. I know your strengths and I admire your work ethic. I think you’d be a great addition to our team.”

Overwhelmed, you barely managed to find your words. “I… appreciate the offer. But I don’t think I can just—”

“Think about it, okay?” he interrupted you, aware of the abruptness and sheer mass of this offer. “We’ll be back from Australia next month, so you don’t need to give me an answer right away. Just—the sooner the better, of course. But you can think about it. I just wanted to let you know that I have an opening, and I’d love it if you joined us.”

“I—okay.” The faint smell of grapes and old wood around the wine bar seemed to grow stronger the longer that you stood here, still frozen. “Thank you, Nick.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said. “Take care, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, you too. Thanks again.”

The three beeps after he ended the call reverberated in your head, and it was another half-minute before you moved the phone from your ear. You looked at it in disbelief, as if it had been someone else who’d just had this conversation, and you had merely overheard it.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to simplify your loud thoughts into whispers of an adequate noise.

There was an opening to be Reconnaissance’s assistant manager.

You’d have to take a step back, do more mundane tasks, similar to the ones you did back when you were Nick’s assistant that first time. But if you said yes, you’d be working with one of the biggest bands in the world right now.

But you couldn’t leave Rated Riot. You were their manager. You believed in them, and you loved everyone on this team.

“You look like you just found out Santa isn’t real,” Maggie’s voice brought you back to the present. She had come to get you, so you’d stop blocking the entrance for others. “Who was that?”

You still felt very hot and half-choked, so you tried to loosen the collar of your white tank top. The denim jacket you wore over it didn’t help much with the heat inside of you, either.

“Um,” you looked around as you slipped out of your jacket. “Can we get some wine first?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

You nodded, and before you could give a verbal response, Maggie was already calling out to your friend, who was about to place her order, “Luna! Grab some doubles! We have something going on.”

It took the girls about two minutes to find a table—granted, a couple of tourists who saw Maggie dragging you through the wine bar while you were trying to regain proper consciousness got scared and left, which helped a lot—and settle down.

As soon as you took the first sip, catching the rich and savoury taste—perhaps a bit too savoury; it immediately made you scrunch your nose—Luna scooted closer to you on the navy-coloured velvet couch.

“What happened?” she asked. “Who was that on the phone?”

You set your glass down. “That was Nick. My former supervisor. Before I started to work with Rated Riot. He, um—he manages Reconnaissance.”

“Oh, shit!” Maggie exclaimed at the same time as Luna muttered, “I don’t really know them.”

“Oh!” Maggie gasped, turning to Luna. “Wait. Weren’t you at their show a few days ago? I saw on your Instagram.”

“Yeah, Taehyung took me. He brought me to the after-party, too, but—” she paused as she noticed that Maggie’s eyes looked ready to pop out. She explained, “oh, that was just to babysit Jungkook. He’s the one who really listens to Reconnaissance. I don’t know any of their songs. They sounded good, but I’m—”

“Oh my God!” Maggie gasped again. She had glitter in her eyes and all over her face. “Wait until we get back on the bus! I probably have five different notebooks full of their song lyrics. You’ll love them.”

Luna nodded her head once, then paused in the middle of the second nod. “Wait, you brought those notebooks on tour? Aren’t they heavy?”

“Kind of. But I like to have them with me. And I keep adding to them, so—” Maggie stopped when you picked up your glass again. Your movement seemed to remind her what the topic was before she digressed. She leaned back in her bright yellow armchair. “—which is not the point. So, what did that guy want? Nick.”

Both girls turned their attention back to you.

You took another sip of your wine and said, “well, I thought he wanted Rated Riot.”

Swirling her glass, Luna asked, “he didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “Apparently, he wants me.”

Luna was the first to understand the implication as her eyebrows lifted and her chin dropped. Maggie, on the other hand, looked at Luna, and then back at you.

“Like… to work with him?” she asked. “To manage Reconnaissance?”

“Well, obviously not to perform with them on stage,” Luna said to her impatiently, then turned back to you. “Why does he want you?”

“He said he needed to find an assistant manager quickly,” you explained, “and since he knows me, he thought I’d be... suitable. For that job.”

You didn’t know what words to choose so you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable talking about this. And, as you sat here with your friends and your glass of wine, you realised that a part of you didn’t believe you were even ready to work with someone like Reconnaissance. For the most part, you were terrified of it.

You hoped Rated Riot would reach their level one day, that’s true. But starting to work with a band that was already so outrageously popular felt a bit like being thrown into a pot of boiling water.

“Well, what did you say?” Maggie asked.

“I said no,” you replied, your vision blurring again. “I think.”

The two girls spoke up at the same time.

Luna repeated, “you think?” while Maggie asked, “why not?”

They exchanged a look – Maggie, surprised; Luna, slightly accusing.

“What?” Maggie said in response to her look. “This is big!” She put down her glass and leaned over to touch your knee, wanting to emphasise her point, “I love you, okay? And I love working with you and everyone else here, and I know you do, too. But this is just… huge.”

“I know,” you said, your gaze still wandering along the tiled wall behind Maggie’s armchair. You felt disoriented and the wine had very little to do with it. “But I—I mean, I can’t just leave.”

“I think you should talk to the guys,” Luna suggested. She managed to come to terms with the heaviness of the offer that Nick had made much faster than you did. It helped, of course, that she wasn’t the one who had to make a decision here, but she was making a reasonable point regardless.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed, pointing at the girl on the couch next to you, and nodding eagerly at you. “Yeah. You should.”

You looked at both of them, then down at your glass, as if you could take a sip and it’d give you very clear directions of what to do next.

“But what can I say to them?” you asked. Then, in a voice meaning to imitate yourself, you said, “‘I might have an opportunity to leave you and work with a much bigger band.’ No. No, I don’t think so.”

Maggie squinted at you, unsure if she was the only one confused again. She asked carefully, “you… don’t think you’ll tell them this? Or you don’t think you’ll work with Reconnaissance?”

You finished your wine and set the glass back on the tray. The other girls’ glasses were still half-full.

“Neither, probably,” you replied. “I’d be—you know. If I went to work with Nick, I’d be fetching coffee for the other staff members and filling out paperwork. I already do that for Rated Riot anyway, but I don’t mind, because I don’t think we’re at a level where I’d need an assistant. But I—I want to reach that level with them. I want to be here every step of the way.”

If you’d lifted your eyes from the table in front of you, you would have seen the soft smile on Luna’s face. Instead, you heard it in her voice when she said, “that makes sense.”

Finally, you looked at her. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, I think you should sleep on it,” Maggie said, a different voice of reason. “Make sure this isn’t something you’ll regret later. Oh!” she clapped her hands. “You can even make a pros and cons list!”

You smiled while Luna snickered. She said to you, “pro: obviously, you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend—”

“Um?” Maggie cut in. “Con: you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend.”

Luna frowned at her. “How is that a con?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Have you seen her ex-boyfriend?”

Luna’s frown dissipated as she laughed, and even you chuckled, too.

In her whole life, Maggie might have had one and a half doubts about not actually being gay; she was simply an artist to the core. And she was very vocal about how unbelievably easy it was to photograph Jungkook when he was on stage. He was, in a truly annoying way, effortlessly photogenic.

“I guess that’s a pro and a con,” you said. There was a lingering smile on your face—this time, the wine did have something to do with it.

When paired with the sudden anxiety of Nick’s offer, the wine helped you distance yourself from the last conversation you’d had with Jungkook. And maybe it was better, you decided, that your friends didn’t know about the walk you two had taken. You preferred the conversation as it was now — cosy, safe, and almost buoyant.

“Is there a time limit?” Luna asked suddenly. “Did Nick tell you a date?”

“No,” you said with a sigh. “He said he wanted an answer soon. So I don’t have to decide right this second. But I’m not really considering it, to be honest. It’s a great opportunity, sure, but I think working with Rated Riot is a great opportunity, too.”

Both girls nodded in unison, their expressions brightening. Slowly, as you felt the support in their warm gazes, the atmosphere in the wine bar began to lighten, too. They understood. And they agreed with your point.

Luna teased, “does the band pay you extra when you say nice things about them? Because I really love Rated Riot.”

You chuckled. “I wish they did.”

Maggie lifted her glass. “Be careful. If you start complimenting them to their faces, it’ll go straight to their heads. And then we’ll have to give their shows an R rating.”

“Well, that would help them live up to their name,” Luna pointed out and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles again—partially because of the wine, but in your case also because of relief.

Nick’s offer and the confusing feelings from last night did not seem all that troublesome at the moment. You could almost forget about them, focusing only on the way things were right now.

You were happy like this. You didn’t want anything to change.

As dusk fell, Jungkook began to hover his finger over your name in his contact list. Just then, Sid burst into the otherwise empty bus and slammed the door with so much force that the whole vehicle swayed a little.

Startled, Jungkook looked up.

“Dude!” he called out, poking his head out of his bunk to see his friend’s proud face. “Gentle.”

“I have the best plans for us tonight,” Sid said as if he hadn’t heard him. “You will not believe the kind of bars they have here in Norway.”

Although Jungkook doubted that the bars here were any different from the ones back home, he still climbed out of the bunk, more intrigued by the idea of having company than by the supposed uniqueness of Norwegian bars. “Yeah?”

Sid’s smile grew wider still when he saw the same reaction mirrored on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook hesitated. He had told you last night that things wouldn’t be the same between him and Sid when they returned home. And he meant it; he would have preferred to spend time with you—right now and back home. But you weren’t here, and while he was waiting for you, everyone else made different plans. Even Taehyung. And Jungkook hated being alone.

Grabbing his jacket, he climbed out of the bunk and allowed Sid to lead him outside, where the rest of their friends were already waiting.

They were like a herd of sheep, Jungkook thought unexpectedly while Sid ushered him out of the bus, the way they followed Sid. Why didn’t they ever protest or suggest their own ideas?

But as he looked at his friends – Jude and Minjun fighting over something on Jude’s phone, shoving the device in each other’s faces and shouting; Sid smacking them both on the backs of their heads, providing his own wisdom to their argument – he knew.

They stayed quiet, because the four of them were always together in the same way: with Sid in the lead, and the others following behind him. That’s the way it has always been. Jungkook knew that if one of them had a genuine problem with this, he would not be taken seriously. Or it would be the last time he could call them friends.

It was either this, or nothing at all.

That night, the four of them ended up in a cocktail bar in Oslo, a significant distance away from the tour bus and the rest of the crew. Jungkook didn’t understand why Sid had chosen this particular place until his friend winked and gestured towards the stairs leading to the basement.

“What’s down there?” Jungkook was dumb enough to ask.

Grateful for the chance to show off, Sid grinned and draped an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders as he led him—along with Jude and Minjun, who were looking around like this was a zoo—to the basement.

“Only the greatest thing to come out of Europe,” Sid explained. “You can thank me later.”

He didn’t.

It was an underground burlesque club with only three dancers, all of whom appeared so intimidating that Jungkook was convinced they could stab the four of them with their nails alone, if any of the boys looked them in the eye for too long. He didn’t dare to try.

Sid loved it.

Jungkook preferred the bar upstairs.

Minjun seemed to agree, so the two went back up for another round, while Jude stayed back. Despite occasionally acting like he hated Sid’s guts, Jude always stayed close to him, almost like an addict, who knew that this drug was bad for him, but still couldn’t break the habit.

“Do you think they’ll make it out alive?” Minjun asked as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I don’t think they’re getting out at all,” Jungkook replied. “It’s like siren screams for Sid.”

“That’s true. And if Sid stays, Jude stays.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression grim.

“So, D-11,” Minjun said. It took Jungkook a second to realise that he was counting down the days to the end of the bet. “How’s it going?”

He gave his friend a look. “I’m in a bar with you. How do you think it’s going?”

Minjun smiled and nodded to the bartender to thank him for bringing the drinks. Then he held his glass out to Jungkook.

“A toast,” he declared. Jungkook rolled his eyes and picked up his own glass. “May you win this bet, because Sid on a motorcycle is a menace I want nothing to do with.”

Snorting, Jungkook clinked his glass against his and they both downed their drinks in several big gulps.

“He’s not getting the bike,” Jungkook said, setting his glass down with new-found determination. Hearing Minjun mention the possibility of Sid winning the Katana made it feel more realistic. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Do you need my help?” Minjun asked as if reading his mind.

Jungkook looked up from the bar top. “You couldn’t help even if I asked. We signed an agreement that we wouldn’t tell her.”

“You and Sid signed it,” Minjun pointed out. “I was just the person who typed it all out in my fucking Notes. I’m not legally bound to abide by the conditions of the deal. And, actually, neither are you. It’s just a—”

“Why would you help me?” Jungkook interrupted. His friend’s final sentences had evidently flown over his head. “I’ve hardly got anything to offer you in return.”

Minjun shrugged. “I just don’t want Sid to win.”

Jungkook swallowed. He found himself hoping, suddenly, that there was more to this. That if he really kicked Sid off the tour and out of his life, there would at least be one person who wouldn’t leave with him. One person who would stay.

“I don’t know what you could do,” Jungkook said. “Putting in a good word for me probably wouldn’t do much.”

“No?” his friend said, then looked down at his glass thoughtfully. “Okay. We can go full mentalist on her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dropping certain objects in her living space that leave imprints of you in her subconscious,” Minjun said completely seriously. “It’s simple.”

“Dude.” Jungkook blinked. “I don’t know where this—this Sherlockian shit is coming from, but I’m not going to mess with her head.”

Minjun was about to scoff, but held back because the offence on Jungkook’s face at the—apparently, preposterous—suggestion seemed genuine. As if Minjun didn’t know what he was saying. As if this was serious, and Jungkook didn’t want to ruin it by playing games.

Minjun pointed out, “but you already are messing with her head.”

If possible, Jungkook looked even more appalled. “I’m—that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I’m suggesting?”

“Well, I’m not trying to—I’m not sneaking around and forcing her to think about me,” Jungkook said, looking away from his friend and meeting the bartender’s gaze. He nodded, and the man behind the bar approached the two friends with a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s not force, technically,” Minjun explained as they watched the bartender refill their drinks. “It’s just how your brain works. You see something that reminds you of someone, and it sticks with you whether you’re aware of it or not.”

“I’d like for that to happen naturally,” Jungkook said, aware that he was the naïve one here. But he liked to think of it as hope. And he had that right—he was the only one who really knew you. The only one who could guess whether you were thinking about him or not.

Minjun shrugged and picked up his glass as soon as it was filled. “It’s your call. I’m just trying to speed up the process.”

Jungkook brought his own drink to his lips, but paused when Minjun spoke up again.

“Let me ask you something, though,” he said. “Before you get too far ahead of yourself.”

Even before he heard the question, Jungkook already felt queasy. “What is it?”

“Do you genuinely want to get back together with her?” Minjun asked.

There seemed to be no ill intentions behind the question, but Jungkook spent a full minute watching him and reading his expression.

Minjun was quick to notice his uncertainty. He reassured, “I’m asking because I care. Not because I want to make fun of you. I know you love her, but this—well, I’m just wondering if you want to act on these feelings.”

Jungkook looked down again. “Yeah, uh, I do. It’s not just about the bet for me.”

Minjun had suspected as much, so he wanted to broach the subject when no one else was around.

“But you still think making a bet out of it is the way to go?” he inquired.

Jungkook knew where this was going. And he still tried to appear nonchalant.

“I mean, I’m in this mess anyway, so why not actually win this?” he replied with a laid-back shrug that was so laid-back, it only amplified the fact that it was not laid-back at all.

“Jungkook,” Minjun said, startling him. Normally, the four of them addressed each other as ‘dude’ or the occasional ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’. Hearing his name felt strange, almost foreboding.

“There’s so many reasons why not,” Minjun continued. “The most important one being that you come out of this as a winner twice. You get her and you get the bike. But all she gets is the realisation that someone she’s letting back into her life has lied to her.”

Defensively, Jungkook demanded, “when did I lie?”

“You’re getting back together with her because of the bet!”

“It’s not because of—it’s not just because of the bet. I just told you.”

“But she doesn’t know about it,” Minjun countered, poking holes in Jungkook’s feeble defensive shield. It was more like a flimsy piece of paper than a shield, really; just something he’d hoped to fool himself—and you—into believing. “She doesn’t know what else is at stake. It’s not fair.”

“Okay,” Jungkook turned in his seat to face Minjun, leaning his elbow against the bar top. “What are you trying to tell me? That I should lose the bet on purpose? To show her that I care about her more than anything else?”

“No,” Minjun replied, less confident. Jungkook was likely not aware of this, but he could be very intimidating. For Minjun, who considered himself immune to most forms of intimidation after years of being friends with Sid, this was unusual and unsettling. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m just suggesting you think about it. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry.

He knew that he had already drawn a subconscious line between simply wanting you back and wanting you back to win the bet. He worried about the exact thing that Minjun had just mentioned—that he couldn’t have both. He worried that it wouldn’t be fair to be with you again if he won.

This was what stopped him on the bridge. It’s what haunted his mind every time he thought about talking to you.

Deep down, he knew he would have to make a choice: either he won the bet, or he got back together with you.

And yet, he couldn’t let Sid win. The thought pressed on his mind with so much weight that he knew it wasn’t just you that he didn’t want to lose, and it definitely wasn’t just his bike. It was a matter of pride, too.

He was proving a point for all the years that Sid had asserted his superiority over him.

“You know, that never made any sense to me,” Jungkook said. Alcohol helped him feel more confident and less self-conscious. Maybe he should stay tipsy until the end of the bet. “That’s the whole point of the cake. You get it, and it’s not just there to fucking look at. It’s there to be eaten.”

Minjun could tell Jungkook felt defensive, so he didn’t take the aggression personally. Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

“Whatever, man,” he said. “It’s your life, in the end.”

“Yeah. It is,” Jungkook replied so firmly that it just sounded childish. He tried to soften his tone, “I appreciate yo—your concern, but I got this.”

“Okay,” his friend agreed because that was easier. They could have been at it for hours—and God knows, Jungkook and Sid had been at it for hours—but Minjun didn’t think it was worth it. He concluded, “that’s fine.”

“It is,” Jungkook agreed.

But it was clear that it wasn’t fine. Jungkook looked flushed as if he’d bathed in a barrel of whiskey, not merely drank two glasses of it.

After about half an hour, the silence became heavy. At first, Minjun had thought that he would rather throw himself down the stairs than return to the basement where Sid and Jude were. But now that seemed like a better alternative than sitting here with a sulking Jungkook.

“You know, uh, I think I’m going to go check on Sid and Jude,” he said while Jungkook ordered another—his fifth—glass. “Don’t want them to die in Oslo. Too big of a hassle to bring their bodies back home.”

Jungkook’s lip did not even twitch. But he nodded and Minjun slid off his chair. He glanced back at his friend as he went, not wanting to leave him alone, but also feeling like Jungkook was already alone anyway, even with him here.

Jungkook had always been good at isolating himself, even when surrounded by other people. Honestly, Minjun wasn’t sure if Jungkook even realised that he wasn’t sitting at the bar alone. He told Minjun once that he couldn’t stand silence, but Minjun knew that sometimes, Jungkook’s thoughts overwhelmed him without his consent. And once he got lost in his own mind, the rest of the world ceased to exist for him.

However, now that he was truly alone, Jungkook was struck by the heavy weight of his solitude. He would have agreed with Minjun – he really did have a monumental talent for disassociating anywhere, anytime. But to be able to drift off into his thoughts and turn the crowd into a blur, he needed a crowd in the first place.

Now that he was alone, all he could think about was that he was alone.

He certainly wasn’t going to follow his friends into the basement, so he got a few more drinks into his system for courage, and pulled his phone out—a painful reflex—to dial your number.

Needless to say, by the time you answered—it was 1 AM, but, of course, you answered—he was already slurring his words as he tried to explain why he’d called.

“Are you drunk?” was your first question as soon as you heard him try to introduce himself—pointlessly so, because at that point in your life, he was the only person who called you after midnight.

“Of course,” he said, with hints of offence in his voice. Why would he not be drunk? he rationalised.  “Do you want to come?”

He heard shuffling on the other end as he played with the napkin on the bar top. Funnily enough, despite his mind feeling pleasantly numb, he still felt twinges of anxiety in his stomach.

“Where even are you?” you finally asked. He was too drunk to notice the coldness in your voice.

“Sid took us to some bar,” he replied. “In Oslo.”

While you were relieved that Sid hadn’t driven them out of Norway before Jungkook even performed here, you also felt concerned that Jungkook was so disoriented that he needed to remind you of the city you were in.

“Are the rest of the guys there?” you asked. His friends were useless, of course, but perhaps Minjun could be trusted to take care of Jungkook if he blacked out.

“They’re downstairs,” he answered. “There’s some club. I didn’t want to go, so I called you. Do you want to come?”

You were confused by the repeated question—was this a matter of you wanting to come, or were you obligated to come as his manager?

He sensed your apprehension through the phone despite being intoxicated.

“I’m trying to see you,” he explained, his tongue struggling to bend the right way. All his Rs sounded like sloppy Ls and Ws. “You weren’t there when I looked for you earlier today.” You heard a bang – he’d slammed his palm against the bar top, forcing the nearby glasses to rattle – and he continued, whining now, “why are you so difficult for me to find?!”

“You’re drunk,” you stated in response. “And you’re not making any sense. Can you find your way to the bus, or do I have to pick you up?”

Half-mumbling, half-whining something incoherent, Jungkook leaned his arms on the bar top. He rested his head on them and pressed his phone against his ear harder as if that’d make you understand him better, make you enter his head somehow.

“You should come,” he said. “I’ll order for you.”

“How about you tell me exactly where you are first,” you replied.

He did – to the best of his ability in his current state – but Google Maps could hardly help you find the directions for “then we took two left turns and came up in front of his huge red brick building, might have been brown, I’m really drunk.” Finally, you managed to get him to just send you his pinned location and headed over there.

He stayed on his phone after you hung up, opening the Notes app and scrolling through his older notes to pass the time.

Some of them were lists of things he wanted to remember – films to see, songs to listen to – while others were harder to decipher: drunken reminders he had made for himself and forgotten as soon as he sobered up.

Some of the notes were song lyrics, and some were just your name—he’d begun to type out a message? a letter? and abandoned it, scared of the weight your name alone carried—and his finger lingered on those for a minute before he pressed the New Note button and began typing immediately.

Normally, he didn’t write lyrics when he was drunk. Tipsy, maybe—one of Rated Riot’s most popular singles was born after he and Yoongi tried absinthe for the first time at one of the label’s parties last year—but never so drunk that the room felt wobbly.

He kept pressing the wrong buttons on the keyboard and autocorrect kept making it worse; shocking even his drunk mind with how completely wrong the corrections were.

But he managed to get two full lines – I fucking miss you when I drink / You burn my throat when I sing – and he stared at them for a minute, a deep frown on his face.

He hated it. Deleting the words with angry force on the backspace button, he began typing again, feeling furiously alone with every passing minute that you didn’t come—and knowing that when you did come, you would be you. And he couldn’t love you the way he did.

For years, even when he thought—hoped—that the feelings he had for you were not real, even as he insisted to his friends that he couldn’t possibly still love you, even as he tried to meet someone new despite only seeing faint echoes of your absence on every face, even then he wrote about you each time that his mind wandered.

You continued to be the subject of his music, the lyrical lover in every song he wrote.

Now, as he entered line after line, the lyrics writing themselves as he watched the screen, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest—as drunk as his mind was.

When the absence of you is all that inspires / I allow for the pain to turn into fires / It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing / Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

He held his phone with one hand as he folded and unfolded a napkin with the other one, reading the words and then re-reading them again.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He needed Namjoon to take a look at this—the producer knew better—before he could show it to anyone else. Especially before he sent it to—

Jungkook jumped up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and his vision seemed to brighten when he recognised you.

“I came as quickly as I could,” you said, out of breath as if you had run all the way here. You took a seat on the stool next to him at the bar, using his shoulder to steady yourself as you climbed onto it. “Where’s your tail?”

Even drunk, he understood you meant his friends.

“Downstairs,” he said, nodding his head towards the door leading to the staircase in the back. “Drinks?”

You assessed him. He didn’t appear to be in need of having his stomach pumped, but he was slouched over the bar, tightly clutching his phone in his hand, which was a good indicator that the night should have ended there.

“I think it’d be better to—”

“Strawberry daiquiri,” he said loudly—to the bartender, but it took you a second to realise that—then he turned to you for confirmation. “Right?”

“I’m not drinking,” you replied firmly enough for him to give you a long look.

“Why not?” he asked. The bartender politely waited for your consent before he started to make the cocktail. “You’re not driving.”

You swallowed. There were many – countless, really – reasons why not. You were confused about yesterday, confused about Nick’s offer, confused about what you were doing here tonight.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even, and very out of character for someone like you. You knew you shouldn’t dive head first into this, not after what happened—what didn’t happen—yesterday.

But you gave the bartender a light nod.

“One drink,” you said. “And we’re going back.”

But, of course, going back is not at all what you did.

Jungkook, his highball, your daiquiri, and you all found yourselves on the empty terrace on the roof not ten minutes later.

It was a relatively warm night, but it was the empty space, the dark night and the faint scent of rain that captivated you more than the warmth. It was so beautiful here; very hard not to be grateful to be alive on a night like this. And you realised you didn’t blame Jungkook for making you come here, after all.

“What were you doing before I came?” you spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the night.

Jungkook took a sip from his glass and placed it on the small round table between your patio chairs.

“Writing,” he said.

You were surprised. “Writing?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, song lyrics?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. Then—his mind travelling a thousand miles per hour—he added, “you know, I wrote “Haunting” about you.”

Weirdly enough, while alcohol made most people sleepy or, at least slower, it seemed to ignite Jungkook’s mind instead. He wanted to see your reaction when he said this. Wanted, even drunk, to see if there was a reason for him to worry.

Meanwhile, you needed a moment to process what he’d just said and, even then, you weren’t entirely sure if you understood him.

“I—you did?” you stumbled, awkward.

“Yes.”

You looked away, the song fresh in your mind, because it wasn’t just the first Rated Riot song that you’d heard. It was also one of your favourites. You loved the ethereal melody—a strong focus on piano, the guitars reduced to the background and the bass only joining in on the chorus—and Jungkook’s raw vocals as he sang about resisting his dark urges.

You knew all of Rated Riot’s lyrics—hearing their songs every night paid off, but you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t like to listen to them in your free time as well—but it was the first verse and, particularly, the breathy, pained voice with which Jungkook sang it that always tugged at your heart:

It's wandering in my mind / It's haunting my daydreams / I follow after it, blind / I fall apart at the seams

After a minute, you finally spoke—awkward as you explained the meaning of his own lyrics to him, “I always thought it was about… well, searching for thrills even though that’s not good for you.”

“It is,” Jungkook said. “The beginning is. But the chorus is about you.”

Before you could ask anything else, he mouthed the lyrics under his breath so quietly that you were unsure if you weren’t only imagining him singing it since you’d listened to the song so many times before.

Can I find you when I break? / Can I find you when it’s too much? / Can you forgive all my mistakes? / Can you save me with your touch?

Jungkook had written plenty of songs on his own, but from what you’d heard in the studio, his lyrics used to be too abstract. That was the main reason why Namjoon used to scold him.

“It lacks feeling!” he’d shout, agitated by his own expectations for the vocalist. “It’s like you’re singing about a bag of bricks!”

You knew that many of Jungkook’s early songs didn’t have a specific subject in mind. In this particular case, you assumed he was singing about someone—anyone, really—extending a helping hand or providing a shoulder to lean on. It was a comforting song, nothing more than that.

Jungkook was almost grateful for the surprise on your face—he was worried you’d tell him that you knew. He’d always thought it was obvious that this song was about you. After all, you were the only one who was always there for him.

And, in any case, who else would he write about if not you? As soon as he was criticised for lacking emotion in his lyrics, he started to write from experience. And you were his experience.

But, of course, you didn’t think to look for yourself in his lyrics. You didn’t want to find yourself there.

And now you weren’t sure what the appropriate response was when someone told you they wrote a song about you. “Thank you” didn’t seem sufficient, because the song was about you, not for you. “I love it” also didn’t capture it, because you didn’t love it because it was about you. You just did.

So, you remained silent, watching the lights on the skyscraper across the street and the reflection of the dark clouds in the dark windows. The people behind them were likely asleep, resting before they started their day in a few hours.

“I think…” Jungkook began, his sentence ending sooner than he’d expected. His eyes were glossy when you looked at him. “I think I’m writing about you again.”

You swallowed and nervously bit your lower lip. The night was warm, but the wind on the roof was relentless. You couldn’t help shivering.

Your mind was running before you could stop it. You didn’t want to resume your conversation from Stockholm; it had managed to be too much by not being nearly enough. You couldn’t return there again.

But you still asked, “what were you writing?”

“About missing you.”

You sat there, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your dark jeans with the tip of your index finger. You tried to suppress the anticipation building in your stomach before it could fully manifest. Before it could turn into a terrifying disappointment. Before it could show you that you were lying to yourself when you said you’d moved on.

“Please don’t ask me why I’m doing this now,” Jungkook said in a strained whisper.

Your voice faltered as you said, “I won’t.”

“J-just so you know, I felt the same way back home,” he said. “The only difference is that here in Europe, you have no choice but to be around me.”

The implication was clear, even if his voice wasn’t accusing you of anything. He believed you were only spending time with him because your job required you to.

“I don’t… avoid you back home,” you defended weakly—the only way you knew how right now.

Last night, you’d told him you missed him and it didn’t end well. Actually, it didn’t end at all—it sort of hung over you and made this conversation uncomfortable. Like a scratchy sweater, rubbing on your skin in all the wrong ways.

“I know,” he said. “But you never put in special effort to see me, either.”

You took a sip of your cocktail, tossing your head back to finish it.

Placing the glass back down on the table between your seats, you finally said, “I didn’t know you wanted me to, until you brought it up the other day.”

“Yeah. I know that, too,” Jungkook said sadly. His moves mirrored yours as he picked his glass up, but stopped before bringing it to his lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About Stockholm.”

The pounding of your heart was very loud, and your voice was very quiet.

“What are you sorry for?” you asked.

He looked down. “There were a lot of things I wanted to say to you, but I… didn’t know how. It got kind of, um, weird.”

He scoffed at his own choice of words, and you realised that you weren’t alone on this rooftop. There was Discomfort, Awkwardness, and Avoidance dancing around you two.

“It…” you began, but words didn’t come easy. “It shouldn’t have been weird.”

He shook his head. He was worried that this would happen. Worried that you’d take responsibility for last night. You’d say you were the manager, so you should have known better. Should have set stricter boundaries. Should have never crossed them.

Now, you added tentatively, “I-I mean, we’re friends, right?”

You could have smashed your glass on his head and that would have hurt less than the cursed word.

This wasn’t about friendship and you both knew it.

But you needed to feel better. Last night had scared you, he could tell as much. And now you needed to make sense of it. You needed to find a way to interpret it in a way that felt right to your standards.

Normally, he would have helped you. Anything to make you feel comfortable, that’s all he wanted anyway.

But, tonight, he was drunk. And so in love with you that it hurt.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said.

Your hands were restless as you tapped your fingers on your legs.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you said. “For us to be friends.”

“It is what I want, but it’s also—it’s much more than just—I’m sorry.” He slid his palms over his cheeks and pressed his hands together against his lips. “I don’t know how to—I could never put my thoughts into words in a way that wouldn’t be too much. Or too little.”

He thought that if his friends would have been here, they would have laughed. Four years he’s wanted you, waited for you, but pretended he didn’t.

Clearly, he needed lessons on how to openly discuss his feelings.

He inhaled—or tried to, anyway—and picked up his drink. You took this as an opportunity to look at him.

“You’re, um—you’re good at putting them into song lyrics, though,” you said.

He chuckled weakly and placed his empty glass down next to yours. There was Sadness, too, twirling on the rooftop. And faint traces of Regret.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll write another song about how much I want you.”

You inhaled too sharply to appear nonchalant. The consecutive “another song” and “I want you” pulsated painfully in your chest.

Alarmed by the sound of your breathing, Jungkook turned to look at you.

“I—sorry,” he said, reading your expression. “I can’t say that, right?”

The fingers of your right hand nervously grasped at the fingers of your left. You regretted not wearing longer clothing that you could pull on.

“No, you, um—well, you can say whatever you feel,” you said. “I just, uh… you know that I can’t say it back.”

He observed your fidgeting and initially interpreted it as discomfort. But now he believed it to be something else—a more prominent emotion, brought on by something other than just this conversation.

Uncertainty.

You said you couldn’t say it back. You meant that you weren’t allowed to, as his manager.

But you didn’t say that you didn’t want to say it back.

His voice trembled when he spoke, the words pouring out in one breath, “but what if we weren’t working together? What if we were somewhere in Oslo, on the roof of some bar, just the two of us? And this fucking never-ending Scandinavian wind, of course,” he paused when he saw a small smile make its way to your lips. “But the wind isn’t telling anyone anything, either. Wh-what would you say then?”

You looked up as if you could actually see the wind. You didn’t know what scared you more: thinking what it’d be like if you weren’t working together—because a few hours ago, that possibility seemed almost real—or admitting your thoughts out loud.

It returned, the heaviness of anticipation that you’d felt last night. You were very naïve to think you could stop it from coming back. To think you could quench the wishful thinking.

This anticipation seemed to control you more than you could control it.

“I’d say that this wind feels like we’re back on campus, loudly talking about our mid-terms and chasing after loose papers that wind had blown out of our hands,” you said. There was a reluctant, nostalgic smile on your face. “Then returning to my dorm room and listening to my neighbours argue about their dead plant, even though they’re both guilty of not looking after it. T-this feels like back then.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked near desperately.

You exhaled, but did not reply. Your skin tingled with pins and needles.

“It’s me,” he said, his tone gentler now. “There’s no one else here.”

And there it was – the moment that didn’t come in Stockholm.

Dizzy, you said, “I feel the same way as I did back then.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“I really need you to tell me,” he pleaded, “what way.”

You pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and focused on suppressing the goosebumps that arose on every part of your skin that his eyes touched.

“Just… exhilarated. From life. From love,” you spoke, your eyes fluttering to him. Frightened by the intensity of his gaze as he watched you, you looked back at the edge of the roof. “From you.”

You heard his breath quiver.

“Look at me,” he asked in a stern, yet powerless whisper.

You did—and he forgot what he was going to say.

He felt like you were both back there again, too. Like nothing had changed—because nothing had, not fundamentally—like he could reach out and you’d be there. Providing him with the noise he needed to not feel alone, and the comfort he needed to not feel overwhelmed.

Neither of you realised that he had leaned in until you felt the warmth of his breath—laced with a strong scent of whiskey—on your lips. Until your lungs started to burn from holding your breath so hard. Until you parted your lips slightly and the oxygen that slipped in was so full of echoes of his taste that you felt the roof turning upside down.

He closed his eyes as he lingered millimetres away from you, the close proximity putting you both in a trance so painfully blissful that not connecting your lips seemed almost sacrilegious.

You were hypnotised, too overwhelmed by the familiarity of the feeling—the barely thereness of his lips against yours—to think of anything else.

You couldn’t pull away.

But, in a blind panic, he was the one who did.

Blinking in surprise as he moved away, you found yourself frozen, eyes locked on the empty space in front of you.

Jungkook stared at the ground, breathless and wide-eyed.

Even drunk, he couldn’t do this.

There was Minjun’s face in his head—his initial discomfort the first time he found out about the bet. There was the conversation in the bar—and the cake metaphor, even though Jungkook thought he neither had the cake, nor could he eat it. There was Sid in his head, too—his smug grin as he insisted Jungkook would lose.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could hear white noise in place of thoughts, and something else, too—his own screams.

What did I do, what did I do, what did I do, what did I—

You couldn’t hear his attempts to inhale because as soon as he pulled away, your own thoughts grew louder. The realisation of what had happened again—what had almost happened again—was so strong, it almost pushed you down to the floor. You had to grip your chair not to double over from the weight of it.

You knew he was drunk, despite seemingly sobering up a bit on the roof. And he pulled away. Meanwhile, you’d had a few drinks tonight and you were going to let him—were waiting for him to—kiss you.

Somehow, he’d managed to exhibit more rationality while intoxicated, than you could while nearly sober.

You stood up.

Pausing for a second as you debated if you should give him an excuse for why you were leaving, you mumbled something about calling him a taxi, and walked away without turning back.

The door slammed shut behind you, but Jungkook still didn’t dare to lift his gaze. He was too focused on clenching his fists so he wouldn’t throw the empty glasses down the side of the roof.

Alone on the staircase, you welcomed the emotion that had trailed after you all the way from Sweden.

You were angry.

But not at this. Not at what could’ve happened and didn’t. Not at him, not for leaning in, and not for pulling away.

You were angry at yourself. For letting yourself wish for something you shouldn’t have wished for. And for feeling disappointed when your wish didn’t come true.

Twice, you’ve found yourself on the edge of almost. Twice.

Last night, you’d told him it was easy to get overwhelmed by all the memories that your time together has brought back. But perhaps it wasn’t him who got overwhelmed. Perhaps it was you.

Perhaps seeing each other so often had blurred the lines, and you found yourself forgetting. Found yourself yearning. Hoping.

But the fact remained—and you repeated it in your head over and over again as you climbed the stairs down from the roof, clutching the railing as if your life depended on it—you broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason.

It was shocking how little that reason mattered when you closed your eyes in the taxi ten minutes later, and all you could picture was what it would’ve been like if you’d been the one to close the distance between your lips tonight.

And as thoughts of Reconnaissance and Nick’s offer returned to your mind on the ride back, you wondered if tonight was a pro or a con.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “careful what you wish for”

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[missblissy]

Little Things! Astarion x Reader HCs

A/n: 😤😤 I’m just gonna say it, ya’ll don’t have enough casual domestic relationship headcanons in these tags. To much smut. Y’all need some water, come up for air or something good god I love y’all but drink some fucking water 😂 So have some HCs of Tav and Astarion in Act 1. GN! Tav with no class/race as always UwU Also thank you so much for all the likes and kind words on my last post! I plan on opening my requests soon so be sure to follow to stay updated on when that happens. 💖☺️ Enjoy!

Was it even possible for someone to be annoyed… and pleased at the same time? Could a contradiction even exist? Yes. It could. And it baffled Astarion. Sure you had a pretty face, a nice laugh, a way with words… A shimmer in your eyes… a crooked grin that barely broke a smirk… The faint and unmissable sound of your heart beat… A smell so signature he could pick it up in the subtle breeze.

Just with the shift of wind and now he was tossing and turning in his tent. Huffing and throwing his blanket over half his face. Thoughts racing with you now, all the way on the other side of camp and no where near him. Not even in his sight. And still you were in his mind.

How annoying. This was just a misguided, maybe even a malicious attempt at forging an alliance. So why did he feel so… bad? His red eyes couldn’t close so he just stared at the fabric wall of his tent. A blank but also bitter stare on his face.

Out of all the books he read, and he read a lot, none of them actually showed him what real was. What was real passion? Not the mask he wore. What was real conviction and adoration? All he knew was what he’s done for centuries. And this was nothing but uncharted and unfamiliar territory.

So why was it your delightful and diluted scent in the wind alone just enough to send him reeling? He couldn’t know, or didn’t dare to wonder.

These little things didn’t stop there. During the day you’d bounce up to him with a skip in your step… that equally would send a skip right into his ribs and tore up his lungs. With big bright eyes you’d show him something random, something you found, something you made… it didn’t matter.

Just the way you beamed with a radiant smile the sun could be jealous of, it was enough for a snide back handed comment that could be confused for a flirt, “Oh darling, for me? You shouldn’t have, you might just be one of my most devoted fans,” Normally a line like this worked. Either it would send the conversation towards the bedroom or someone left standing alone.

Neither happened. You just rolled your eyes, gave a little laugh and said, “A fan? In your dreams,” And go on chatting like before, unfazed by his little remarks. You were an enigma to him.

Especially during times after a battle. It was always such a gentle touch, when you’d place a hand on his shoulder and praise him for his good work and efforts in the battle.

If vampires had blood to blush he would. He didn’t understand why he wanted to hear more of it, “That was a good job you did out there today,” or maybe it was the way you said, “You did amazing,” He could listen to praises all day. He never knew how much he enjoyed them before.

Let’s not forget, he could hear your heartbeat. Not yours alone. Everyone had a different rhythm and rhyme. For instants Shadowheart, her heart was slow, sad, faint but still beating away with life. Astarion could hear it, just the same as Lae’zel who seemingly had no heart beat at all until the surprising thumb of it came every hour or so. He could hear yours too. Rattle away within your bones. And he paid close attention.

Normally these ‘skills’ of listening to hearts were used to hunt out a target for his master. But with no master and a band of fools, he still used these skills unbeknownst to himself.

He’d listen with eyes glued to a book. You’re heart pitter pattered like any other. But sometimes it’d start racing, picking up speed. Not to long ago a racing heart was the first step into picking a target, since the heart never lies and when a fool looked Astarion’s way if their heart sang that song he knew who would be his unfortunate soul.

But no, this time he just peered from over his book and watched you stare off into the distance, into the darkness of the woods. To his surprise there wasn’t a glance his way or even at anyone. Your heart only raced for fear it seemed. Even when you looked at him or shared a conversation, the same steady beat flowed.

It was something little like this, these little things only he knew as they festered in his mind. They ached within him. He hid it well but it wretched at his organs and plucked at his fibers every time. It was annoying. It was… wonderful…

It was terrifying. The way his breathe would catch when you’d ask him to join you. The way he actually felt anger, as petty as it was, when you asked him to stay back at camp.

Or maybe when he’d hear just the sound of your voice, distant on the other side of camp, muffled, not even loud enough to hear what you were saying but just enough to hear your voice. How strange that something so little as that was enough to ease him into sleep.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi, so I saw that your request for tokio hotel are open. Can I request dating headcanons with Tom? Have a nice day!

(hello! I had time and I was bored so what the hell? Here ya go! Bear with me, it's my first Tom one and I hope you like it! If anyone else does, please tell me if you would like more in the comments!)

Dating Tom Headcannons

He would be the proudest boyfriend I feel like

On stage he's like 

"That's my babe! Over there, not you- them! Them!" 

All excited and stuff

But he is flirty

Doesn't matter where or when

Is extremely flirty

Would be the person to just sneak in a kiss before going on stage and be like "it's for good luck" so you have no choice but to give in

If you have a style similar to his, he would love it

If you don't, he would still like it

He thinks you look good either way, and he's still gonna flirt with you

Is not a possessive person, like you can do what you want and stuff but if something goes too far he'll say something or if someone makes you uncomfortable

But he's not the type to say "don't hang out with them" or stuff like that about your friends or he wouldn't feel threatened by another guy

He wouldn't feel threatened because he knows who he is, and that you're already his partner so he's locked down and ready to go

He finds it funny when someone tries flirting with you

He'll just be in bothered and go up to you and kiss you

He doesn't take offense to it

You're pretty man, why wouldn't you be flirted with?

He takes it as an accomplishment

They flirt with you but he's the one with you

Same with fans from his side, if you're okay with like kisses on the cheek from fangirl he'll be good to go

But if you're not, hell do his best to avoid them and give them hugs or smth idk

If you have a piercing or lots of piercings, he'll love them 

He loves anything about you man

Is definitely the one to pull you onto his lap anytime

If you're in the band, he'll do it in interviews or anywhere in general

Even if you're not in the band, he'll do it all the time

When he notices paparazzi taking pictures of you guys, he'll purposefully give them a picture of you guys almost full on making out

He is shameless

If you're in the band, he'll be having the time of his life on stage with you

He'd be behind you and kiss your neck just because he can

Does not give a single fucking of how many people are in the arena or the audience

He's the type to let you take his shit

Like shirts, rings, pants, hats, anything

He likes how you look in them

Kisses your knuckles or the back of your hand sometimes to substitute kisses

Or he'll be messing with your hair

Oddly likes having his head in your lap or your head in his

He'll take your stuff and act like he doesn't know where it went to keep you from leaving

"I don't know where it went, could you have dropped it when we were walking back? Looks like you'll have to stay."

He has it in his pocket.

Is proud anytime he sees you in the crowd or backstage

Or after a set or concert he'll just be asking you if you liked his performance

Please tell him he did great

He won't take anything else except that

If you aren't in the band, he would like that you got along with his brother and band mates

And especially if you got close with Bill, he'd probably fear being the target of pranks

He doesn't feel threatened no matter how close you get to his brother or Georg or Gustav

They're his closest friends and he trusts them and you so he has nothing to worry about

Has a lot of trust in your relationship if you couldn't tell

If you played a instrument or sing in shy type of way, he'd love it even more

He'd be a flirty and proud boyfriend of the century

Even if you guys did break up, not that I'm saying you will, he will forever have a specific and special place for you no matter how much time passes by

[dreamofbetterthings]

No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI. 

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

 You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room. 

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun. 

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs. 

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times. 

So why did the room suddenly feel hot? 

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away. 

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah." 

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers. 

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop." 

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes. 

"Then I won't." 

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts. 

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch. 

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up. 

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.