#get your foot tapping immediately kinda music

[asherasgayagenda]

NOBODY TOLD ME TWILIGHT PENTAGRAM WENT SO HARD !!!!!!?!?/!!?!?!!??

[callmerainman]

THE SMITHS | Adam x fem!angel!Reader

SECOND PART

plot. in which Adam, after bumping into you listening to music in the elevator, gives you unsolicited music recommendations.

tags. first meetings, Adam being Adam, flirting, concerts, music, getting to know each other, rockstar Adam (still takes place in canon).

taglist. @call-me-nyxx

a/n. Adam is my muse at this point, he's directing all my creative energy lmao. This came up to me as an idea last night, kinda different from my usual Adam content! Might do a part 2, we'll see about that, enjoy!

«Take me out tonight, where there's music and there's people who are young and alive»

The elevator doors slide close, the few heavenly beings have exited, leaving you alone inside the cubic space. Absentmindedly, your foot starts tapping on the floor. A faint melody can be heard from outside your earbuds, the volume of the music set on max. You bumped music in your ears every chance you got, including when you were on bureaucratic duty for the Seraphim's.

«Driving in your car, I never ever want to go home».

As the elevator stops at the upper floor, the doors slide open and reveal who called it. Immediately, you adjust your pose, clutching your paperwork against your chest with arms crossed. Adam, the First Man, just entered the elevator.

He's loudly sipping what seems to be a sugary beverage from a large cup, positioning himself next to you. You've seen him many times, from a distance. At meetings, where you worked as an assistant, walking around Heaven, on posters advertising his band, in court. But you never interacted, there was no reason to. He was one of the big heads of Heaven, while you just hoped that nobody would yell at you for not adding enough milk to their coffee. Of course, this is what makes you nervous. But when the doors close again, you take a deep breath and let the music envelope you again.

«And if a double decker bus, crashes into us»

You relax, forgetting that Adam is next to you. You just stare at the elevator doors, unbothered. You just let yourself get lost in the sad, indie rock tunes that paradoxically raised your spirits. That's until, with the corner of your eye, you see Adam turning towards you. He's saying something, but music muffles your hearing.

«Ihatethasmiths»

You remove one of your earbuds, and you turn around with a gentle, sweet smile.

«Mh? Sorry?» you ask, the corner of your lips curling upwards.

«I said I fuckin' hate The Smiths!».

Your smile fades out immediately, your eyes go wide and your eyebrows shoot upwards. Adam goes back to look straight in front of him.

«tO dIe By YoUr SIdE iS SucH a HeaVenLy wAY to DiE! Ugh, fuckin' hate 'em » he mocks.

Dumbfounded, you just stare at the First Man in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, and your earbud is still pressed between your thumb and index as you can still hear There Is a Light That Never Goes Out playing. Then, the elevator doors slide open with a ding! and Adam just exits, slurping loudly his drink as if nothing happened. You follow him with your gaze, still in shock. The doors start closing again.

«Holy shit» that's all you can say, before disappearing behind them.

—

Next week, you're still in the elevator, a cup of hot coffee in your hand and your earbuds religiously plugged in your ears. Today you're in a good mood. The Heaven Headquarters offices weren't too packed with work and you were rising to the highest floor of the palace to spend time with your co-workers. That's until the elevator stops and the First Man Adam comes in. Again. You stiffen, your wings twitch and, hoping to not be noticed, you roll your eyes. Now that you think about it, it's the same day and hour you two met last week. When he, not-so-kindly, expressed his disappointment in your music taste. Suddenly, you realize something else. That you're...

«You still listenin' to that crap?» Adam says, pointing a finger towards your earbuds.

You sigh, resigned. You're still listening to The Smiths. This time around you heard Adam loud and clear, but you turn the volume down anyways. And, not caring about being all dignified and reverential in front of him, you roll your eyes in front of him.

«Yeah, I'm still listening to The Smiths. Heaven knows I'm Miserable Now».

Adam, scoffing, symbolically brings two fingers towards his mask and pretends to throw up.

«The Smiths are the bane of rock, I swear! Who wants to listen to a man being all whiny about love, vegetarianism and shit. Rock 'n roll is something else, I tell you»

«I disagree on that»

How did you even end up in this situation? Discussing music in an elevator with the First Man on Earth, one of the most important authorities of Heaven. It's just unreal, so much that going on doesn't bother you that much.

«You're into rock music?» Adam asks, shaking his usual drink in his hand, ice making a crisp sound inside the cup.

«Safe to say yes» you say, a collected but confident smile on your face.

«Okay, okay» Adam smirks, mischievous «and who are you rocking out to?»

«Oasis» you reply.

«Ugh»

«Radiohead»

«Nahh»

«Arctic Monkeys»

«Ew»

«Joy Division»

«For fucks sake woman, are you gonna give me a real rock band or keep naming your emo fest-»

«Guns 'n Roses»

Adam's breath stops for a second. You stare at him with a challenging look. His LED eyes digitally burned on his mask squint.

«Okayy miss...?»

«(Y/N)»

«(Y/N). Name 3 Guns 'n Roses songs»

You raise a finger in front of him, your eyes wide in a sort of prohibitive look.

«Nuh uh, don't you try to pull that move on me, I'm not gonna name anything».

«Tch, as I thought» Adam says, before sipping on his cup of icy soda.

You emit an annoyed groan, before sipping on your coffee yourself. As you're about to press start again on your phone to replay the music and metaphorically cancel Adam's presence from the elevator, he speaks again.

«Listen, girlie, if you wanna listen to some real rock music you should, first of all, give up on that sentimental bullshit that people call rock nowadays. Second, you can start by coming to one of my concerts. I'm-»

«Adam, The First Man. I know who you are» you interrupt.

You move your weight from one leg to the other, as Adam playfully smirks at you.

«Of course you know who I am, you probably heard of me from my band»

«Actually, I work as an assistant for the Seraphims meetings» you say.

«Oh, nah I never noticed you. You sure you don't know me from my band? We're pretty sick»

It's not like you expected him to know you from meetings. You mostly worked behind closed doors, preparing paperwork and only handling it to Seraphims last minute. And Adam wasn't really a necessary presence at meetings. He was important, an authority holding a great power for sure, but you don't really understand of what kind.

«I heard that you got a band but sorry, Christian rock is not my genre» you reply, nonchalantly.

Adam jumps a little in surprise, an appalled sound escaping his lips.

«Oh no sweetie, you got it all wrong. Didn't you listen to me when I said that we're a real rock band? We sing about all things rock» he says, theatrically.

«For example?»

«Sex, drugs and bitches of course».

You let out an ironic chuckle, not thoroughly convinced.

«I heard your venues are like, really crowded. I don't know if I feel like tip-toeing all night long to see anything»

«You can always tell security that you're with me»

His statement surprises you, so much that you turn around with a frowned forehead. The scrunch in your face says it all about your uncertainty. Adam looks chill, confidently leaning on the elevator's mirror and looking at you. How long have you been riding this thing?

«You think they'll believe me? Not even in a 100 years»

«Listen sweet cheeks, I'll meet you at the queue between sound check and the start of the show and I'll directly tell em that you're with me».

«You want me to play groupie?»

«Aren't you already?» Adam grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A very shit-eating grin.

You let out a playful and sarcastic chuckle «No, but I accept your offer, Mr. Real Rockstar»

«More of a real rockstar than Morissey»

The elevator doors open, it feels like you've been there for an eternity but not necessarily in a bad way. It's Adam's floor, the one just beneath yours, and he waves at you goodbye with a hand.

«See you Saturday, you'll be my number one fan».

«You wish»

How was that one of the most annoying, yet weirdly entertaining conversations you ever had?

—

You've never been to an Adam's concert, because you never had the chance to get into his music even if he was really known all around Heaven. But it was true that his gigs were packed. The line is infinite, and the venue probably won't even be enough for all these people. Suddenly you start to regret your decision. Damn, you even dressed up for this! You nervously start shifting your weight from one side to the other of your body. Security is already telling some people to just go home because it's likely that tickets just ran out. One titanic of a bodyguard goes up to you, arms crossed.

«I'm sorry miss, but we're out of tickets»

«Oh it's fi-»

You can't finish the phrase, distracted by the feeling of a stranger arm wrapping around your shoulders. You straighten yourself, and turn around alarmed. Adam had appeared from behind a portal, which immediately closed behind him. All the people left in the queue turn around, shocked to see the frontman appear right there.

«Don't worry dude, she's with me» he says, confidently.

How can someone be such a loser and so charismatic at the same time? This is what you ask yourself while wrapped around Adam's arm. The security guard nods, and Adam opens the portal back with a snap of fingers. Soon, you find yourself in the front row. Did he just transport you there? Adam has already let go of your shoulders, standing behind the barrier. Fans in the front row start going crazy at the unexpected sight of the frontman. As they scream incoherent, adoring gibberish to him, Adam stays focused on you.

«I'm happy you're here. Trust me, your ears will thank me for blessing them with some real rock» he says, his playful smirk permanently printed on his mask.

You roll your eyes, but you're betrayed by your own smile «We'll see»

«Trust me, you won't be disappointed» Adam replied.

Then, he winks at you before turning around and heading towards the backstage.

When the concert is over, you can confidently say that no, you aren't disappointed. As much as you hate to admit it, Adam can get it. He knows how to play guitar, he's vocally a beast in every good sense possible, and he's a stage animal. He's an idiot for sure, an arrogant one, but he quite literally fucking rocks. It's the way he plays guitar solos, his finger picking technique flawless and effortless. And how he knew how to talk to the crowd, how to move on stage. And you also saw him for the first time without a mask. You didn't know what to expect, but you have no complaints whatsoever. Brown, messy hair, dark but charming circles under his eyes, a fierce grin on his face. You felt your stomach fluttering when he obviously looked at you during Stick It To The Man. As people are leaving the venue, you're about to do the same. Maybe you and Adam will talk about it on your next random encounter on the elevator. But, before you can turn around, you see a security guard gesturing you to come close. He opens the barrier for you, and, confused, you shuffle your way through it.

«Yeah?» you ask.

«Adam wants to see you» the bodyguard says, moving his head to invite you to follow him.

Your heart skips a beat. This is some groupie shit. But you don't mind. You follow the security guard to the backstage, hugging yourself slightly out of nervousness. Adam, who was talking to the drummer, immediately stops the conversation when he sees you approaching behind the security guard. A wide smile extends on his face.

«So, (Y/N)! Did you change your mind about The Smiths?» he asks, opening his arms.

You place your hands on your hips «No, but...you weren't half-bad»

«Not half-bad?» he says, almost offended.

You decide to give up the tough girl act «Okay, I'll admit it, you know how to rock. You were really good».

«HA! Told you! Ladies love my band and you're no exception. And THIS is real rock»

«I'll still bump the shit out of The Smiths next time we meet on the elevator» you protest with a smirk, crossing your arms on your chest.

Adam drags a hand between his messy hair «Instead of meeting in the elevator, me and the rest of the band are going to the after party. It's in a club near the venue. Why don't you come? I still have to recommend you some real music»

Oh this is bad. Adam's teasing smile, the way he got closer to you and is now staring down at you without a shade of awkwardness. And the fact that one of his skilled hands is now placed on your waist, again, without any form of hesitation. Is he hitting on you? You feel your face burning, pressing your lips together. Would accepting make you a groupie? And soon, you realize that you don't care.

«Okay, First Man, I'll come with you. But only if you don't ask me to name 3 songs of a band»

«Deal»

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Long(?) Distance Relationship

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Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist

Tags: fluff, gn!reader, pre-established relationship, mild crack ig Summary: is a long-distanced relationship even possible when your boyfriend can just travel on foot cross nations for you?

A/N: so uhhhh this kinda sucks but it's midnight here and i'm losing my marbles or however that saying goes. happy reading yall w/c: 1.3k

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You place your luggage down onto the wooden floor of the rental in Mondstadt city, sighing under your breath. The week-long boat trip from Sumeru to the docks and then another few days worth of slime balloon flight had not been easy on your body, especially since you mostly bury yourself in research upon research instead of strengthening your body.

A sense of peace wells up as you take in the bustling atmosphere of the people and the music carried by the wind through the window as you sit down onto the bed. It was the right choice to go to Mondstadt for your new project! You do miss Wanderer much more than you would ever admit after all the traveling though.

Quickly clearing up your mind, you put away your things and tidy up the room a little so that it is more livable than before. As you hang up the last of your clothes, a piece of paper falls down to the ground. You pick it up and freeze at the realization that it is the note you wanted to leave for Wanderer about leaving. A few moments pass and you give up on trying to think. Whatever will happen is for the future you to worry about!

Meanwhile, your poor boyfriend just returns to your shared abode after having to help the Dendro Archon out in the desert. Wanderer was expecting to see you excitedly rushing to greet him, or at least hear you in the living doing random things but is met with an empty home. His non-existent heart stops beating for a split second. Where did you go!? So the only reasonable action Wanderer can take is to rush out and grab the nearest familiar looking scholar for interrogation.

While questioning his victim, his brain is filled with the worst possibilities he knows, what if you finally realized that he is unsuitable for you, or you got kidnapped or- The poor scholar can barely answer him before getting thrown onto the ground and feeling a gust of wind rushing by, followed by a trail of dust. Wanderer breathes a sigh of relief knowing you are safe and sound. He thanks the Dendro Archon that you are simply on a work trip to Mondstadt of all places.

The anemo vision on his waist glows as he pushes the limit on speed before he inevitably is forced to go on foot once again. The puppet complains under his breath. He did not realize the way to Mondstadt is this long but at least this would be faster than to travel on any other transportation method. He also simply cannot believe that you would leave for your research now of all times. The puppet was away for two, t-w-o weeks(!) and you dare to leave without even informing him beforehand! Admittedly, he was released from his duties much earlier than expected but you could have left a note! (Even if technically you did, the results still matter more in this case)

Wanderer is immediately stopped at the gate of the city. The guards both looked at each other when they saw him rushing over at the speed of light and anger (?) practically radiating off him and swiftly concluded that he is, in fact, a danger. He stops when they block his entry because he is a law-abiding citizen! The scholar stands there in annoyance, one of his feet tapping the ground impatiently as his eyes flit over the two soldiers trying to do their jobs. Even if he would love to just go right over their heads, he can already hear Nahida nagging at him the moment he steps foot in the vicinity of Sumeru.

He zones out slowly at the mind-bogglingly boring questioning and profiling despite its necessity. The puppet wonders if you are doing fieldwork or writing out your plans at the moment. Wanderer is already planning how he would punish you for your lack of communication and- He snaps out of his thoughts at the guards handing back his identification papers with a polite apology for stopping him. He simply nods and walks in. Paperwork is always so tedious!

Meanwhile, you walk around the library of the Knights of Favonius, in awe at the sheer collection of books available and the crisp cleanliness somehow maintained despite everything. The librarian is an oddball but that is just how scholars are sometimes. Not the oddest one you have had the pleasure of meeting, at least. You run your fingers over the leather book spines as you hum along with the music selection from the gramophone. One book, and then another, and another one… They begin to stack up higher than you had expected. You stare at the pile in mild contemplation. How are you supposed to bring all of this back?

Lisa, ever the sweetheart, taps your shoulder and promises to help you reserve the books until your next visit. With that out of the way, you carry a comfortable amount in your (not) noodle arms back to your humble abode.

Wanderer walks into the bustling city while looking for your silhouette in the crowds. The guards said that there has been no scholar leaving the city for the last few days so you should still be around the place. He regrets not having planned this out better so he would not have to be walking around like a headless fly right now. He stops for a moment at the water fountain and allows himself to take a breather. You would tease the living hell out of him if you ever find out that he was in such a rush to see you again. Despite the way Wanderer acts, the corners of his mouth rise subconsciously at the thought of your surprised expression when meeting him. Maybe you would even be so happy that you hug him tightly and shower him with affection…

Instead he gets attacked right in the face with a thick encyclopedia on Mondstadt’s oral legends and a frantic scream that threatens to blow out his eardrums. Truly makes him wonder if he stepped out of the house with the wrong foot or something like that… Wanderer still catches the books flying at him, despite the urge to watch the world burn, and looks at the perpetrator in anger until he realizes it is you who did that. You know what, he can forgive you as long as you promise not to leave him without notice again.

You tumble, full Inazuman rom com novel style, sending you and your books flying at the fountain. A blood curdling scream makes its way out of your throat, effectively stunning everyone in the plaza. Honestly, for a moment, you wish that a hole would open up on the ground beneath you and swallow you up. You push yourself up from the ground, your knees still aching from the impact. You slowly look up at your victim and you rub your eyes vigorously at the sight that greets you. Isn’t Wanderer supposed to be in Sumeru right now? Are you somehow hallucinating in the middle of the day??

Regardless if this is an illusion whatever twisted god up in Celestia may be subjecting you to, you stand up and rush into your beloved boyfriend’s arms for a hug, deftly avoiding the books and the possibility of falling right into the water. As awkwardly as he is, Wanderer returns your affection. He pats your back lightly while maintaining a delicate balance with the books in his hand and you. Feeling your warmth against him is more than enough to make the trip here worth it.

The touching moment is cut short when you push him away. The puppet pouts a little but allows you to do so either way. “So uhh, how did you get here? Are you free from your deadlines yet?” He freezes up. Oh no.

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Taglist: @amyminhminh @xrmywaifxx @samyayaya

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 13: Mononucleosis

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Wooyoung, Yeosang (mono)

Caregiver(s): Hongjoong, Seonghwa

Word Count: 2,199

Notes: I am, admittedly, not the most thrilled with how this turned out, but c'est la vie. I also finished this one pretty last minute cause I had several little bits of dialogue that needed to be strung together. I also know so little about mono, and everything is from Google.

When Wooyoung stumbled out of his room, feeling like death warmed over and craving a little attention from his members, he did not expect to find the room dark except for the light of the muted TV and the couch already occupied. Yeosang was curled up, looking just as bad as Wooyoung felt: skin dully pale, shadows under his eyes, body laying as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Their eyes locked. 

“Mind if I join?”

“Welcome to the party.” Yeosang curled his knees even closer to his chest to make room for Wooyoung on the other end of the couch.

“Your throat hurt like hell too?” Wooyoung asked as he collapsed on the other end of the couch. He stuck his feet under Yeosang’s blanket, and the other didn’t fight him. 

Yeosang nodded. “Tired as hell?”

“You know it.” 

“Great. Glad we can die of the plague together.”

“No one else I’d rather go down with.” 

Yeosang hummed. “I’m actually kinda worried, Woo. I felt totally fine last night, and now even the thought of moving is painful.”

“Funny you say that, cause I was starting to think the same thing. The ‘I was all good last night’ bit. I actually wasn’t all that worried. Until you just said that.” Yeosang’s foot reached out and met Wooyoung’s. “Now I’m less nervous.” Yeosang chuckled at that, but the sound quickly became a groan. 

They laid there, staring blankly at the TV, for an indefinite amount of time. Wooyoung had forgotten his phone in his room, and there was no way he was moving back there on his own. It wasn’t like Yeosang could help him. They were stranded on the couch until someone else found them. 

And that person ended up being San. “Good morning!” he chirped happily, passing the couch on his way to the kitchen. “You two have a sleep over without inviting the rest of us?”

“Something like that.” 

San stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to the couch comically slow. Wooyoung’s response may’ve been cheeky, but his voice was… off. He walked back around the couch, taking a good look at both Yeosang and Wooyoung. Lips pouted in confusion, San flipped on the lamp on the end table. His eyes went wide. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?”

“Is it that bad?” Yeosang asked. 

“You look like actual zombies,” San replied. 

“Maybe that’s what we’ve got, Sangie: Zombie flu.” Wooyoung tapped Yeosang’s foot this time, earning a single chuckle from the other man. San’s eyes flew wide, and he immediately brought his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose as he backed away. “San, it was a joke!”

“I know, but I’m guest MC-ing Music Core this week, and I really can’t afford to get the flu right now, zombie or otherwise…” Wooyoung couldn’t decide if he felt bad at San’s panic, or if he wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was being. “I’m getting Hongjoong and Seonghwa…”  

“Noooo! Don’t wake them!” Yeosang whined, burying his face deeper in the throw pillow. San made a mental note to lysol off the whole couch. Maybe burn it. 

“I’m waking them.” He set off before either of them could complain. 

“Has he always been such a germaphobe?” Wooyoung asked. 

Yeosang shrugged. “I mean, I get it. I wouldn’t want to have zombie flu on camera either.”

“Fair point.”

“Now what’s going on here?” Yunho appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing in front of the couch, hands placed on his hips as if inspecting some sort of silly shenanigan. This was not a silly shenanigan, thank you very much. 

“We are becoming zombies,” Yeosang announced simply. 

“Okay. How did that happen?” Yunho played right along, noting the glaze in the younger man’s eyes, and hoping to either a.) keep him awake long enough for the MATZ line to check his out, and/or b.) get him to say something funny. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. We have not been in contact with any other zombies or hazardous materials.” 

“Yeah, we both just woke up like this.” Wooyoung attempted to pose without sitting up at all, the movement awkward and looking more like contortion than modeling. Yunho tried his best not to laugh, and was thankfully saved by the entrance of Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San trailing behind them. 

“Now what is this about a zombie flu?” Seonghwa asked. Both and Hongjoong had their arms full of supplies from the medicine cabinet, and after depositing them on the coffee table, he immediately moved to lay a hand on Wooyoung and Yeosang’s foreheads simultaneously. 

“Hyung, I think we’re dying,” Wooyoung announced before Hongjoong slipped the thermometer in his mouth. 

“How so?” the captain asked. “Give me symptoms.”

“Extremely tired. Very sore throat. Entire body aches. Felt fine last night,” Yeosang rattled off. 

“See? Dying!” Wooyoung exclaimed around the thermometer. Hongjoong flicked his forehead. 

“Relax. You probably just caught Yunho-hyung’s cold,” Jongho rolled his eyes. Neither Wooyoung nor Yeosang had noticed him enter the room, but he was currently sitting in the recliner, supervising as Hongjoong and Seonghwa desperately tried to play doctor to the group’s most impatient patient. And Yeosang too. 

“Not nice. Mingi had it first!” Yunho poked the maknae’s shoulder. 

“And I didn’t have a fever,” Mingi (when did he get here?!) pointed out. “And I don’t think Yunho did either.” 

The dancer shook his head. “Nope. And neither of us were this fatigued.”

“Wouldn’t classify it as a ‘very sore throat,’” Mingi added, starting to count on his fingers. 

“Okay, okay we get it,” Wooyoung whined around the thermometer again, rolling his eyes as he slumped back against the couch. He frowned, whole face creasing as Seonghwa pointed the thermometer gun at Yeosang’s forehead. He thankfully waited until Hongjoong pulled the device from his mouth before asking, “Why did you only use the forehead reader on Sangie?”

“So you’d be quiet for a little bit,” Hongjoong answered plainly, assessing the numbers on the screen. Seonghwa showed him Yeosang’s reading as well. 

“Rude.”

“Also, kinda gross to put the same thermometer that was just in your mouth in his,” Mingi commented. 

“Can we put a pause on the peanut gallery?” Wooyoung asked, pointing puppy dog eyes at Seonghwa. The eldest ran his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, similar to a puppy, but the feeling soothed him somewhat.

“Well, you’re both burning up, so it’s probably not the cold the rest of you had,” Hongjoong commented, starting at the thermometers as if doing so would give him answers. “But I’m stumped. Fever, fatigue, sore throat, but nothing else…”

“Should we get them looked at by a doctor?” San asked from the back of the room. To Wooyoung, it almost looked like he was hiding behind Mingi. As if that would save him from their germs. 

“Most definitely.” Hongjoong was tapping away at his phone now, likely alerting their managers to the situation. 

“Do we have to go right now?” Yeosang’s voice bordered on a whine. Hongjoong couldn’t help but pout with him, ruffling the dancer’s hair affectionately. 

“Well, it’s only 6:30 in the morning. The doctor isn’t in yet, buddy. So you two can rest here for a bit longer. Hopefully they can fit you in ASAP.”

“Cuddle with me, Sangie!” Wooyoung lunged forward towards his friend, resting on his abdomen. Yeosang squirmed away with an annoyed whine, t-shirt riding up over his hips from Wooyoung’s grabbing hands. He pulled it roughly back in place, as if seriously upset that Wooyoung would even consider touching him right now, which did confuse Wooyoung as touching feet earlier had not been a problem…

“Wait! Sangie, hold still.” Both members froze as Seonghwa gently lifted the hem of Yeosang’s t-shirt. Yunho gasped as Seonghwa revealed Yeosang’s abdomen and chest, covered with an ocean of red spots. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” San continued repeating the words like a protection spell, covering his mouth with his hands and beginning irritatedly pacing far away from the couch. Seonghwa nodded to Yunho, who immediately suggested he and San go take a walk outside. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Yeosang gasped. “What is this? I didn’t even feel anything!” His breathing started to pick up. “Hyung, what the fuck’s happening to me?!” Wooyoung simply stared at his friend’s abdomen, frozen in panic. 

“Oh Sangie, shhhh,” Seonghwa soothed, opening his arms and nearly falling back into the coffee table from the force of Yeosang clinging to him. “You’re okay. You’re o-kay. You said you didn’t even feel the rash, right?” 

“No!” Yeosang shook his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

“Well, you’re not gonna like it, but I think this means you have mono, bud.” The eldest glanced over to Wooyoung. “You too, love.” 

Wooyoung blinked, shaking his head as if Seonghwa had just told him there was a dragon living in their basement. “What?” he exclaimed. “There is NO WAY we have mono! Isn’t that the kissing one?”

“Yeah, Hwa, are you sure?” Hongjoong asked, kneeling down on the other side of Yeosang. Seunghwa nodded sadly. “My brother had it once when we were in high school. It’s not just kissing, you can get it from other things too,” he explained, petting Yeosang’s hair gently. The dancer had stopped hyperventilating, but his grip on Seonghwa had only gotten tighter. “Sharing drinks; that’s how my brother’s got it. Sharing chapstick. Maybe even toothbrushes…”

“We don’t share toothbrushes!” Wooyoung insisted. 

“Maybe even toothbrushes touching,” Seonghwa finished gently. “Maybe. It’s possible that you may’ve mixed water bottles with another group at some point, maybe that’s how…” He was cut off by Yeosang lurching away from him, glaring daggers at Wooyoung.

“YOU kissed me!” he exclaimed, immediately wincing at the pain in his throat. “You kissed me when I asked you not to, and here we are!”

Wooyoung’s head cocked to the side. “When?!”

“After our all kill! During the encore stage? You got too excited and grabbed my face and I tried to squirm so you hit my mouth instead of my cheek.”

“That was a month ago!”

“Yeah, about that, mono does have a four to six week incubation period.” Hongjoong held up his phone, where he’d been fact checking mono symptoms. 

Wooyoung clapped his hands to this mouth as his face drained of color. “Oh my god…” Yeosang continued to glare at him. 

“Well, good thing we’ve been super strict about not sharing water bottles,” Hongjoong muttered to Seonghwa, who nodded emphatically. 

“Who would’ve thought there would be an upside to half the group sharing a cold.”

“And that it would be that the rest of us wouldn’t get mono.”

“I can’t believe you gave me mono,” Yeosang huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and physically turning his body as far away from Wooyoung as he could.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped open. “Um, who said I gave it to you? Maybe YOU had it first and gave it to ME!”

“No. You kissed me. That means it’s your fault.” Now both Yeosang and Wooyoung were pouting on their separate side of the couch. Hongjoong and Seonghwa made the mistake of making eye contact and nearly burst out laughing. 

They were saved by the reappearance of Yunho and San, the dancer’s arm wrapped protectively around the vocalist’s shoulders. 

“Good news, Sannie. They aren’t contagious unless you kiss them!” Mingi cheered. 

“Well why would I ever want to do that?” San replied, pulling a face. Wooyoung threw a pillow at him, causing San to squawk in fear and dodge behind Yunho to not get hit with anything potential contaminated, despite Mingi’s earlier explanation. 

“Okay kids, settle down,” Hongjoong said, holding up his hands for a ceasefire. “I need everyone who’s healthy to go start getting ready for schedules. Yeosang and Wooyoung, I need you two to make up and take care of each other until manager-nim can come get you.”

“Kiss and make up, more like it,” Mingi snorted to himself as he disappeared down the hallway. Wooyoung wound his arm up to throw another pillow at him, but Seonghwa held him back. 

“Rest, Woo,” the eldest said gently. “I know it’s frustrating to be sick, and scary cause we don’t actually know what this is. But all you two can do is rest and let your bodies heal.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung relented. Hongjoong shook his head. Why didn’t Wooyoung ever listen to him like that? “Sangie, I’m sorry I may have gotten you sick.”

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong prompted. 

Yeosang sighed, releasing his arms from their cross. “I’m sorry I may have gotten you sick, and I snapped at you about it.”

“There we go! I think that’s earned you both popsicles later.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up immediately, but surprisingly so did Yeosang’s. The dancer never gave into bribery by snack, so he must’ve really wanted that popsicle to be so visibly excited. 

And sure enough, one doctor’s visit later, Yeosang and Wooyoung were curled up together in Wooyoung’s bed, officially diagnosed with mono and contentedly enjoying the promised popsicles, content with the assurance that there were plenty more in the freezer for them over the next few weeks.

[anodeorain]

Lady Dimitrescu x Y/N

Tags: cigarettes, alcohol

Notes: this one is a nameless drabble. I’ve been feeling kinda down for few days now and this came out. hope, you enjoy.

Another sleepless night. Another careless walk around the giant castle. Your steps echoes through the hall as you sneak around the dim lit rooms. The silence sends shivers down your spine, you even can hear your own heartbeat.

You hold the candle that barely illuminates the hall. Gliding your fingers against the cold sharp wall you continue your small journey to the library. The windows are covered with thick materials. You never knew why but other maids gossiped about it, saying there are formidable things outside you never wish to see. You shiver just from the thought of it but keep walking. Finally, you reach the stairs. You’ve been working here for the past few years, you obviously know every inch of stair’s floorboards and which of them creak and crunch under your feet.

You quietly walk upstairs, as slow as you can, making sure you make no sounds. As you get on the third floor you look around, ensuring you’re all alone. You see familiar door. The one that leads to the huge library with impressive amount of books. But still there’s another door, you can’t say anything about it. It’s been locked since your arrival.

You can notice a thin stream of light on the floor from behind the secret chamber’s door. It’s slightly ajar, you can say. It’s the first time you catch such thing. You spin your head around, making sure for one last time there’s no other soul on the floor, before quietly sneaking toward the massive ornamental wooden door.

You pull the doorknob just a little more, tiptoeing inside. The room is large, walls painted mostly in green. The huge lacquered piano stays in the middle of the room. The room also has a small loggia and few coffee tables with couches around them. Seems like someone gave performances here long time ago. The layer of dust covers everything in this room, including dried flowers in luxury decorated vases.

Two candles on top of piano’s music shelf lit up the room. Candles stay on both sides of handwritten sheet music. You take a look at it but you can’t distinguish anything. You slowly reach your hand to the keys, touching them with the tips of your fingers. They feel sleek and chill under your fingers.

Heavy clicking sounds echoes through the third floor and you gasp, turning your head toward the door. You immediately head off to the darkest corner of the room, covering your mouth with your hands as you sit on the floor, too terrified to breathe.

You and Lady Dimitrescu have been in a weird sort of relationship for about a year now. She let you sleep with her in her bed sometimes. She treats you with delicious food twice a week. She gives you an opportunity to take a bath in her own bathtub. You are have sex but still, Alcina is a dark horse. She delicately avoids most of topics you want to discuss with her. You’re lucky enough if The Lady is in a good mood which means you will not be punished for bringing some topics up. You barely know her, you can’t read her emotions and you never know what’s on her mind.

The door opens slowly and a tall figure ducks through the door. It’s the countess. She wears a long dark crimson nightgown and black heels. Her hat is placed on top of her head. Sometimes you think she never takes it off. The dim light from candles frames her curvy silhouette. The Lady looks around, placing the large bottle and her favorite crimson goblet of one of her wines on the tiny table nearby the piano. She frowns for a second before taking a seat at the piano.

Her long pale fingers touch the piano keys. The sound of the first note echoes loudly in the room and your heart starts thumping against your rib cage even harder. Lady Dimitrescu presses another key and another and another until the beautiful, sad music comes together. You see Alcina tapping the foot as she plays, her nimble fingers going over the keys over and over, sticking every note. It does sound magnificent. You even could compare that to some famous compositors. You never knew your Lady is the one herself.

The countess stops playing. She opens the bottle of wine, pouring some into the goblet. She swirls the wine in it before gulping the wine and pouring some more. She takes a pack of cigarettes, lights one up. The harsh smell of tobacco comes across the room and reaches your sensitive nostrils. You squeeze your nostrils with your fingers, breathing through your mouth now as you are about to sneeze. The Lady puts one hand on the keys, tapping them slowly as she keeps smoking and sipping the wine.

“Did you enjoy my performance?”

She asks, her voice is cold yet you can tell she’s smirking. Alcina doesn’t turn to you, she takes her goblet and gulps the wine.

“How do you know I’m here?”

“Oh, Draga Mea, I can smell your blood rushing through your veins from miles away. Such a divine scent of fear.”

Lady’s voice becomes lower and she slowly turns around on her chair, facing you now.

“Such an rebellious pet. I bet, you earned a punishment today.”

A devilish grin comes upon her crimson lips, sending chills down your spine. Alcina beckons you with her finger and you slowly walk toward her, tugging on your dress as your anxiety level increases. Lady Dimitrescu seems tranquil and you can notice sadness in her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Alcina?”

You ask in a soft tone. She doesn’t respond. The countess wraps her muscular arm around your waist and pulls you close, letting you sit on her lap. You look up at her, catching sorrowful smile. She hands you her crimson goblet.

“Be a dear, hold it for a minute, pet.”

You carefully hold the goblet as Alcina pours herself more wine. It’s sticky and smells like blood, you scrunch your nose and she lets out a chuckle. She puts the bottle away and gently wraps her large palm around your wrist, pulling your arm up. Her dark cherry lips wrap around the rim of the goblet as she sips the wine. The bloody liquid runs down her chin. You stare at her open mouthed as she continues sipping the wine. The view puts you in a trance. You reach your hand to her face, gently wiping the wine off her face with your thumb. She lets out another low chuckle and rolls her eyes.

Finally, Alcina takes the empty goblet away from your small hand and smiles, placing it on the table. You keep your gaze at her and she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What is it, Y/N?”

She asks and you shake your head lightly, blushing. You feel embarrassed and want the ground to swallow you up. Lady Dimitrescu laughs, running her hand through your hair, bowing down to kiss the top of your head.

You both sit like this for few minutes. Alcina passes her hand through your hair and you lean against her chest, enjoying the physical contact. The countess stares at nowhere, deep in her thoughts and you can not let yourself to disturb her. She speaks first.

“I feel so betrayed. I am doing my best to be greatest in her eyes. I deserve it… To be worthy of her attention and love. I demonstrate her my honor and loyalty and it is still not enough.”

The countess sighs as she finishes her small monologue and lights a cigarette, her lips tremble as she takes a drag. She pulls you closer to her body, you feel the coldness of her pale grayish skin. Alcina’s shoulders shake slightly and she presses her fist against her mouth. She takes a deep breath before looking down at you.

“They are better. Heisenberg hates her, Moreau is a hideous whiner and Donna is a creepy lunatic. And yet, I am not the one to merit her consideration. Dear, dear… How very unfortunate.”

Lady Dimitrescu lets out a muffled snigger and looks down at you again. She puts her forefinger under your chin, tilting it up, making you look at her. Surprisingly, you don’t see a single tear in her dead, ashy eyes, that used to glow with vivid gold.

Alcina stays quiet, staring into your eyes, looking for support and care. Her eyes stray around your face, almost crying out for help. You cup her face, caress her cheeks with your thumbs, feeling her leaning into the touch. Your eyes locked to one another’s. She is the first to make a move. The countess lean closer, pressing her bitten lips against yours, leaving a red mark on them. The kiss is soft yet sorrowful. She pulls away, looking away from you.

“You may go, Y/N. It is getting late, you should get a proper amount of sleep.”

Lady’s voice is cold again, there is no space for emotions anymore.

“No.”

You disobey, making Alcina feel annoyance.

“Listen. I don’t need any pity and sympathy. These feelings are miserable.”

She spits out the last word, seizing a bottle by the neck, raising it toward her lips.

“I want to stay to make sure you’re okay. I wish I could show you the sympathy but I’m aware, you don’t appreciate that kind of emotions. ”

Lady Dimitrescu stays silenced, not being able to respond to your words. Thousand of thoughts run through her head and she sighs.

“Play your song again for me, Alcina. Please.”

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me

Here’s the first fic that’s part of my one year anniversary celebration, where there's a new fic every tuesday!

January

MASTERLIST

“Daddy, you made my bun lopsided!”

All Jack could do was sigh and redo his daughter’s hair again. They were going to be late if they kept this up. It was January, and it was the first day of school from winter break.

“Ok, Jayla, is this better?” Jack watched as she turned in her seat on top of the bathroom counter. He couldn’t help but smile at the expression on her face as she tapped her pointer finger to her chin as she inspected her hair. “A LOT BETTER!”

“Thank god!” Jack said as he lifted her off the counter. If they didn’t leave in the next 5 minutes, she was going to be late. “Ok, soldier, I need you to go put on your shoes and wait for daddy at the door.”

Jayla stood at attention “Sir, yes sir!” She saluted him before taking off down the hall and towards her room. Moments later Jack hears her feet running back towards him, Jayla popped her head back into the bathroom “Thank you for doing my hair, daddy!”

“You’re welcome, mamas.”

The drive to school was pretty quiet other than the sounds of Jayla playing with her Bratz dolls in the backseat. Jack heard the little girl let out a deep dramatic sigh as he pulled into the school parking lot. He ignored the sigh as he got out the car to open her door, knowing what was coming next.

As he opened the door, Jayla sighed again but louder.

“Daddy…” Jayla said in almost a whine

“Yes, mamas.” Jack said while still unbuckling her out of her seat.

“Can I miss one day of school please?!” Jack had to give it to her, the puppy dog eyes were top notch. But he knew better than to give in. “You can’t, Jay. We’ve talked about this.”

Out of the car now, Jayla stomped her foot on the pavement and crossed her arms. “Why do you get to stay home all day and I can’t?!” She exclaimed looking up at him with her hands now on her hips. Jack bent down to her eye level.

“I’m at home working—“

“I can work from home too!”

All Jack could do was drop his head in a sigh, wishing her mother was here for moments like this.

“There’s things teachers can teach you that daddy can’t. It’s only for a couple hours.” Jack watched as Jayla continued to pout in front of him.

“And remember how excited you were when you found out you were getting a new teacher!” Jayla’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah! Because Miss Brown had a baby!” She exclaimed

“Exactly, so if you don’t go you’ll miss out on the chance to meet her!”

Jayla starts bouncing on her toes before grabbing Jack’s hand and starts dragging him towards the entrance of the school.

“C’mon, slow poke!”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that as he followed behind her.

JACKHARLOW

liked by brysontiller, champagnepapi, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, thomaschristmas, yungskylark, cozane and 786,456 others

jackharlow: I think I’m getting better at this hair thing…

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urbanwyatt: took you long enough

user: Jack come out of retirement

user: does anyone know why he doesn’t make music anymore

user: ok you ate

user: sooo cute

user: this nice and all but dude we haven’t heard new music from you in years

“Jack, you sure you don’t want to hold on to this track, it's fire!” His long-time engineer, Nickie Jon asked him.

Jack just shook his head. He was happy with being a ghostwriter. Less pressure.

“But, Jack—“ the sound of Jack’s phone ringing interrupted whatever Nickie was going to say next. Jack breathed a sigh of relief before pulling his phone out his pocket.

Bloom Elementary School

Jack immediately answered the phone.

“Hello?” Jack said as he started grabbing his things. The school has never called him. Not even once.

“Hello. Mr. Harlow. I’m Miss Love, Jayla’s first grade teacher.”

Jack knew who she was, well kinda. The school was always sending daily emails. Reminders on how Jayla was doing, upcoming PTA meetings etc. So he remembers the email about Jayla’s class getting a new teacher after winter break. Back when Jack was in the public eye, he was more involved with the school since he was an alumni. The last few years Jack didn’t do many public appearances at the school, but would still anonymously donate money. He couldn’t stand the stares and whispers and people feeling sorry for him.

“Is everything alright?” Jack asked in a slight panic. His hand was already on the doorknob ready to leave. He was getting flashbacks to four years ago when his life changed drastically.

“She’s fine, I promise.”

Jack felt like a weight had been lifted as he released the breath he was holding. “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Mr. Harlow.” She practically scolded him over the phone.

“Sorry, sorry! You just scared me, that's all.” Jack ran his hand through his already curls. Jack leaned against the door of his home studio. He felt like he needed to pick his heart up from the ground.

“No I’m sorry, I really should’ve opened with something better.” Miss Love said, sounding apologetic.

“It’s okay, how can I help you, Miss Love?”

“I was wondering if I could have a meeting with you after school? Jayla got into an altercation at school during recess.”

“Uh what? Jayla got in a fight?” Jack questioned. That did not sound like his child.

He listened as Miss Love cleared her throat before speaking again which made Jack stand up straighter. Yeah, Jayla was a tad bit sassy, and could be a chatter box but she had never gotten into any sort of trouble at school. She was very kind and was always nice to everyone around her. He couldn’t imagine her getting into a fight.

“She pushed another classmate at the playground, and while it wasn’t unwarranted I want to try to avoid this happening again in the future.”

Jack took a hand and rubbed his temples. “Yeah, of course. Can we talk today, after school?”

“Sounds good, see you soon Mr. Harlow.”

“Thanks for calling, Miss Love.”

When Jack was younger he always dreamed of settling down In Louisville and having kids with the person he loved. 

Jack met Jayla’s mother, Alyssa backstage at one of his concerts and it was love at first sight. They dated for a couple years before she ended up pregnant. They were only 22 years old, one of his first hits WHATS POPPIN was topping the charts. They say the best moments in life are completely unexpected. While they were scared of bringing a baby into the world when they were both so busy, they couldn’t be happier. 

The first couple months after Jayla was born were tough. With Jack’s schedule getting busier and busier and her Alyssa going through postpartum, the two spent many nights staying awake and crying together.

Jack’s parents tried to help out the best she could but while Jack and Alyssa were grateful for all the help they didn’t want to be so dependent on them. 

Thankfully, things did get easier for them and they were on track to raising a beautiful and wonderful baby girl. If you had told Jack back then that years later he would unexpectedly become a single father, he would have laughed in your face.

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

Being a teacher wasn’t always on Ariel Love’s vision board. She had dreams of becoming a writer. It wasn’t until she was offered a student teacher position in college that she fell in love with teaching. That's where she found out that working with kids was the most fun and rewarding job ever. 

Ariel was born in Kentucky but moved to DC when she was only a little girl. It wasn’t till her principal at her old school presented her with a job opportunity to teach first grade back in Kentucky that she decided to move. During her interview with Bloom Elementary, they loved her background in writing and her work experience that they decided to hire her. 

She has never taught her own class before, having always been a teacher’s assistant. That being said, she was very excited for her first day. 

She had no idea that she was going to have to call home to one of her kids on her very first day. Miss Brown, the class's former teacher, had left notes on her kids so that she knew what she was working with. Ariel was shocked when she had to stop Jayla Harlow from hurting another child, Miss Brown only had positive things to say about her. 

Even now it was hard to believe that the little girl who was sitting at her desk coloring had almost got in a fight today. 

After the situation at recess, Ariel had heard whispers about Jayla’s father. Apparently, he used to be some super hot big time rapper before he suddenly retired and fell off the face of the earth. None of the whispers could prepare her for when he walked into her classroom. Walking in wearing a gray new balance tracksuit with new balance to match. A gold KY chain dangled around his neck and it looked identical to the one Jayla was wearing today. He had a beautiful set of bright blue eyes, with a scruffy beard and a head full of messy curls that looked like he was constantly running his fingers through. 

Their eyes met for a second before he walked over to Jayla’s desk to greet her. Ariel watched as he pulled Jayla into his chest for an embrace and placed a kiss on her forehead. She couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear but she could hear Jayla’s silent reply “okay, daddy.” Before quietly plopping back down in her seat. 

Ariel stood from her seat as Mr. Harlow walked towards her. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr Harlow.” She said as she extended her hand for him to shake, and immediately noticed there was no ring on his finger. She felt her face get warm as his large hand grabbed hers. 

“Uh, please call me Jack. I’m not even thirty yet so Mr. Harlow makes me feel old.”

“Ok, Jack. And since we’re going to be on a first name basis, you can call me Ariel.”

“Ariel,” he said slowly. “Like the mermaid?”

She could help but laugh at that. “Yes, exactly like the mermaid.”

She then motioned towards the seat in front of her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

“First, I just wanted to apologize for this morning. Definitely didn’t mean to scare you with the call.” Ariel began to ramble. 

Jack just shook his head and waved away her apology. “It’s alright, I promise.”

“You said on the phone that she pushed someone?”

Ariel sat up straighter at her desk. “Yes. While I’ve only been Jayla’s teacher for about…” she looked down at her watch “five hours now, I can already tell she’s a wonderful student. Miss Brown only had the best things to say about her. One of our classmates was bothering a little girl from the kindergarten class, she did use her words before pushing the child. I’ve spoken to both of their parents about the situation as well."

“It won’t happen again, I’ve always taught her to keep her hands to herself. Right, Jayla?” Jack said before turning around and giving his daughter a stern look. 

Jayla lifted her head up at the call of her name. “Right, but daddy they were being mean to Nova…so I’m not that sorry! ” Jayla exclaimed 

Jack immediately turned back towards Ariel. “The student was Nova Wyatt?” 

While she wasn’t supposed to give out this information, she figured that there was no point in lying to him. 

“Yes, I assume you know her?”

“Yeah, I’m her godfather, and Nova’s dad is Jayla’s”

Jack sighed and placed his head in hands for a moment. He then lifted his head to speak again. “Shit, I’m sorry. Is there going to be any disciplinary actions for Jayla?” He asked before taking a look at Jayla before looking at Ariel once more.

Ariel narrowed her eyes at him for cursing again before shaking her head no. “Between me and you, Jayla was really upset about the situation. She immediately understood what she did was wrong. She’s not a bad kid, just protective over the people she loves.”

She watched as Jack nodded and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, is that all?” He asked as he went to stand. 

Ariel nodded and grabbed a purple sticky note and wrote her number down. “As you know, I of course have your number because it’s in Jayla’s file but I wanted to give you mine.” She handed Jack her number and tried to ignore the small spark she felt when his fingers grazed hers as he took the slip 

“My line is always open. You can ask me anything pertaining Jayla or about school events coming up. I can even send you little updates about her throughout the day.”

Jack smiled while looking at the note, loving the way she dotted her i’s with hearts. “Thanks, I’ll definitely reach out about school related things. I would love updates about Jayla, I miss her during the day.”

“You can even text me even if it’s not about school events.” Ariel blurted out, jesus first day of teaching and she’s already making a fool out of herself in front of a parent. At least this one is cute.

Jack could tell she was embarrassed but there was no reason too because he was planning on doing that anyway. “Hm, I think I will.” He told her with a smirk on his face. 

Ariel’s face warmed at that. “I think that’s all. You and Jayla are free to go.”

She watched as Jack grabbed Jayla’s Bratz backpack and swung it over his shoulders as they walked towards the door. 

“BYE, Miss, Love! See you tomorrow. I won’t push anyone tomorrow, I promise!” Jayla told her with a wave

She tried to hold in her laughter. “Bye, Jayla! We’ll have a better day tomorrow, I’m sure.” She gave the two one last wave before tending to the paperwork on her desk. 

Ariel could help but smile huge at the exchange she heard outside her door. 

“Daddy, were you flirting with Miss Love?”

“Will you quiet down?”

there was a beat of silence. 

“well…were you?”

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

AN: Tried to leave this as open ended as possible so if enough people enjoy this I'll continue writing :) tell me your thoughtssss!

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @laylasbunbunny @ilyangelsxo @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww

[malarkgirlypop]

BoB dance moves while drunk

inspired by that one post of how they would act when drunk from @contrabandhothead

Dick Winters:

Is a sucker for a slow dance, tries to wrangle anyone onto the dance floor with him but mostly Nix who doesn't like slow dancing. Is very huggy and will whisper unintelligible things in your ear while dancing. Will give you that very drunk I love you smile when he pulls away.

Lewis Nixon:

Does not dance, will not dance. But can sometimes be convinced by Dick if he is drunk enough. Rather would sing loudly while sitting down.

Ronald Speirs:

When very intoxicated will boogie, he is the one who will just stand in the middle of the dance floor and jump up and down. While trying to sing the song but he doesn't know the lyrics so he drunkenly sings nonsense at you. Goes from one group to the next. If dancing in a circle he will jump in the middle and bust a move before disappearing. Lip will sometimes have to wrangle him away from people cause he is interfering with their night.

Carwood Lipton:

Is a shy dancer will tap his foot and bob his head to the beat, but spends most of the night trying to contain the very excitable Ron, who is a loose unit on the floor if not supervised. Is always excusing himself to go and get Ron.

Harry Welsh:

Is too drunk to stand, but he can party lying down! Wants to dance with Kitty but can't find her. Would probably pull out moves such as the sprinkler and pushing the trolley.

George Luz:

Does the most bizarre moves you have ever seen. Has his own style called the George. Will spin you round and then need to sit down immediately cause he is going to throw up. Back out onto the floor once he has recovered, him and Ron together are a fucking nightmare, as they harasses innocent bystanders to dance with them. Will high-five you if you get too close, but does the fakeout of "High-five, dolphin dive."

Joe Toye:

Is the best dancer when drunk, like professionally good, but will only dance if very inebriated. Likes to people watch and laugh at the chaos that is George. Will lean and drink and shoo Luz away when he asks him to go and dance. Saying "I will when I finish this drink." But then orders another one so that he can use the same line.

Bill Guarnere:

Dance fights! "you want a piece of me?" then does very complicated footwork. Light on his feet. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Aggressive dance moves when drunk, will shake you with force if he gets a hold of you. Sings loudly as he dances. Always has the best night.

Joe Liebgott:

Crumps aggressively, somehow is very good a twerking. Knows how to pop that puss. Does that dance move when you hold your leg up and then have the other hand on your head and jump around (idk how to explain this move, but I see it in my head). Will try and incite a dance battle. Always the centre of attention. Likes it that way.

David Webster:

Dances like a basic white girl. Feeling himself up. Is a very weirdly sensual dancer. Kinda gets him going. Will say this is my favourite song to every basic pop song that comes on. Still doesn't know the words though.

Buck Compton:

Will aggressively do the hoe down throw down and somehow has whole choreographed dances to the songs. You will never see him do the same move twice. By the end of the night he has taken off all of his clothes and is drenched in sweat.

Eugene Roe:

Is a modest dancer. Will just nod along while lip-sinking. Will have a confused face on but when people ask him if he is ok just grins at them nodding. Is always looking for Babe.

Babe Heffron:

Manages to integrate himself into a group of people he isn't with for the night, teaches them his signature move that is the dougie. Will pester the person playing the music for the song that goes with the dance so that he can do it all for them. Normally gets his way and does the whole dougie in the middle of the dance circle while people cheer him on. He eats it up every time and brags about it later.

Skip Muck:

Does classic dance moves with Alex. Likes to dance with another person so he has a buddy to shimmey into and then shimmey back. Will do spins with Alex and always does it way too aggressively and sends Alex flying across the floor to crash into people like a bowling ball.

Alex Penkala:

The most clumsy dancer when drunk. Will fall over nothing, Skip does not help either, somehow always managing to push over his friend by accident. Alex is like a fucking bouncy ball and is up on his feet in seconds. Will wake up the next day covered in bruises and is unsure of how he got them.

Donald Malarkey:

Gains the confidence of a professional dancer and believes it, but is totally not. Will totally do that thing where you move your chest up and down and get people to move their hands over him to make it look cool. Likes the song get low, as he likes the part where it goes low, low, low, low so he can do his matrix back bend. Get's worse the more he gets drunk.

Frank Perconte:

Is a fucking B-boy and will break it down, somehow can do head stands and that thing where you spin around on your head, and that one move where you are lying on the ground and push yourself to your feet.

Johnny Martin:

Is a fucking wild card. Some nights he will chill and then others he is breaking it down on the dance floor. It mostly depends on the liquor he is drinking, if it's spirits you're in for a crazy night.

Bull Randleman:

Will line dance to any song, you can't tell him other wise. Does that lasso move to Perconte and lasso's him onto the dance floor, Frank loves it. Will do Gangnam style if drunk enough and will tell you every time his favourite part is the move where you look like you are riding a horse.

[jackiebrackettt]

Lets listen to music together and Can I draw on your arm?

With Dakota and Ashe possibly? I feel like that's their vibe

I’veee never written ashe before ahaha hope i did okay 💪💪 also I kinda forgot the timeline of events when they first meet him so. if I’m getting it wrong just pretend it works peace and love ✌️❤️ under readmore vvv

Edit: the last paragraph of this didn’t copy over but I added it now shrug

Ashe is still not entirely sure how he feels about the Prime Defenders. They’re in his house. And they seem… okay. Even if they’re pretty emotional right now, and apparently kind of don’t like his dad.

Dakota’s tense. He keeps wandering back into Ashe’s room - fists clenched - and sitting hunched over at the foot of his bed. He drums his hands to whatever he can hear through Ashe’s headphones until he seems calmer, and then goes back to the other two.

And then comes back. Tense again.

It’s the third loop of this when Ashe decides to say something.

“Do you, like… want to listen to music together?”

Dakota’s face immediately brightens. And then just as quickly, he’s frowning again.

“Hm… okay! What do you have? Something, like… loud and fast with drums, I hope.” He taps his head. “Clears my mind.”

“Okay. I can probably do that.”

Ashe fumbles around for a second pair of headphones and one of those headphone split things he doesn’t remember how he got but knows he has. He could just play it though his speakers, but it’s getting kind of late and he doesn’t want to bother the neighbours.

“Here.”

He passes Dakota the second - probably shittier pair - of headphones and plugs everything in. He puts on My Famed Disappearing Act and throws a hesitant thumbs up. Dakota’s already drumming along to the beat which is a good sign. And then he grins and returns Ashe’s thumbs up which is an even better sign.

Cool. Good. Now he just needs to keep playing songs until Dakota gets bored and leaves again.

He feels a tap on his hand, and sees Dakota saying something. He pauses the music.

“Can I draw on your arm?” Dakota repeats too loudly.

“Uh… sure.”

He offers his arm out. Dakota shuffles closer and grabs a pen sitting on his bedside table.

Ashe resumes the music and Dakota starts scribbling… something on his hand. Just random lines, it seems like.

It’s weirdly nice. The whole situation is. He’s kind of glad they showed up. Even if they’re strange, and tense, and kind of don’t like his dad (maybe a little because they don’t like his dad), he’s having fun. He hasn’t been able to do anything like this with anyone for a while now.

He missed it. He’s not sure why they would - since this seems to be a special arrangement that no one’s happy with - but he hopes they stick around. He hopes Dakota does, at least.

He’s not sure why they would - since this seems to be a special arrangement that no one’s happy with - but he hopes they stick around. He hopes Dakota does, at least.

He’s not sure why they would - since this seems to be a special arrangement that no one’s happy with - but he hopes they stick around. He hopes Dakota does, at least.

[transfennecbuddy]

So, I actually listened to this song a while ago (thanks Youtube algorithm!) and meant to say something about it, but I legitimately forgot. But now I've remembered, mwaha! This song is called Be My Guest, and for the life of me I can't find out who the song artist is! (I think they might just not have a name?) So I'm linking this song at the end so y'all can find it and listen to it.

(EDIT: I think their name is Azari, whoops. I'm still linking the song tho.)

Also, I would like to add a disclaimer before I even start talking about this song, lol. I do not know any actual names to describe any of the instruments, so if it starts sounding like I'm talking about nonsense, that's why.

So. This song is so good but in a sneaky way! It doesn't come out with any loud instrumentals or emotional singing. It's quiet and soft and sneaky and I LOVE it so much! I love this song's vibe and everything! The music is really simple but eases into the background, and the vocals at first just follow the beat, which sets up a really sly, really calm sort of song that still is easy to jam to. Like you could close your eyes and just relax to this song. You'd end up dancing a little, of course, because the beats are just too immaculate and well-placed to avoid not snapping to them, but it fills the silence in a way that's fulfilling but quiet. There's something definitely there, but it doesn’t demand your full attention. You can do something else while letting this play in the background and take up the back of your thoughts. (Which was why I was going to play this while working when I'd remembered I hadn't wrritten about this song yet.)

Then it adds a lil jazziness to it with some more off-beat beats (that sound kinda like a maraca, actually)! And I love these beats! They're so good that I can almost taste them in my mouth and savor how good they are, mm! The jam levels surpass pure vibing and get me to tap my foot, it's so nice! Now the song's taken up a lil more conscious thought, just enough to realize hey, this is frickin good, but you're still just enjoying the musical silence that it has.

But it doesn’t stay that way! This song has the AUDACITY to pause, take away the new syncopated beats, and leave the end up of beat undefined and (lyrically) silent! And I UTTERLY. LOVE IT. When you're not expecting it, it's like you've been vibing ever harder as the song goes on and you expected to vibe more from the build, but then the music drops out from under you and gives a slower, more careful answer. Like someone is sneaking behind you (which fits with the lyrics)! And the suddenness plus how good the slow down is gives me shivers. I love this part! It blends into the background less, but it's so good and satisfying to vibe to! And there are random real-life sounds in there (like a car horn) that don't sound random or jarring at all! Everything sounds so smooth and well-produced and satisfying!

And then after that, the song goes back to vibing with a few more beats added and it's just... When I'm paying attention to the song, the vibing and fulfilling drop and return to vibing makes me want to cry happy tears, and when I'm not paying attention, it makes me want to wave my hands and tap the beat into anything I can find. Like it's so good that I have to let the music out somehow.

And the end! The end of the song is so slow and sly and MM so good! And the art is so beautiful, I had to say something about it! And the way this song blends the roboticness of the vocaloid's lyrics, the music, and the real-life sounds is just wonderful! This whole song just feels well-produced in a way that even someone with no experience producing music can tell! Like the song artist knows just when to push and pull back to make an awesome song!

This song is so good for working because it's so varied and interesting yet quiet and unobtrusive about it! And honestly, I love it so much that it immediately got put onto my Vocaloid playlist! I recommend it to literally anyone!!

Here's the link to the song:

[honeyhotteoks]

early hours (j.yh)

summary: you run into him in the hallway of the hotel, it's late and you're exhausted from the concert, but he thinks you should grab a drink and you can't help but agree

prompt: Hi! Sooo it might gonna be a little similar to into the aurora, but I kinda let my mind wander about what would it be like (probably really really lucky) to bump into yunho after a concert (like you know as a fan) and eventually have a one night stand with him..

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // i hope this is what you were looking for!! honestly it got away from me there in the middle, i'm just also very in love with this man. i hope you enjoy!! <3

warnings: idol!yunho, fem!reader, one night stand, slight injury and brief description of a bloody cut, oral (f receiving), protected sex, semi rough sex, free use kink, praise, *slight* brattiness / teasing, size kink, use of the pet name 'tiny', big dick yunho. please let me know if I missed any.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: idol x non idol, self insert, smut-a-thon with some fluff

word count: 8.8K

my masterlist 

Everything about your night feels absolutely electric, the feeling of the music still buzzing in your skin, your legs exhausted from standing, your hands numb from clapping. Now, laying in your hotel room after the show on top of the

 comforter, you replay the little moments in your mind. It was lucky you were able to go, a ticket given to you from a friend who could not longer make it, a VIP seat almost at the barricade. It had been perfect, it didn’t even matter that you went alone.

Flipping over onto your stomach, you pull your phone back out and scroll through the videos you were able to take during the show – every second of footage shockingly good quality. They’re handsome, of course, but the power in their dancing and the magnetic charisma of each and every one of them is overwhelming, the videos paling in comparison to the feeling of being mere feet from the stage’s edge.

Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s already twelve-thirty in the morning. You have a bit of a long drive to make in the morning, especially if you’re going to make it back to your apartment to get some work done, and you really should get to sleep. If you didn’t start winding down now, you never would.

Despite your sore muscles, you drag yourself off the bed and into a warm shower, washing off the show and trying to relax. You keep your hair dry, already freshly washed and dried that morning, but take your time removing your makeup and refreshing your skin before you get dressed for bed. You’re tucked in already, cozy in your gray sweats and oversized black hoodie, when you realize how hoarse your voice feels after the show.

There’s nothing in the mini-fridge and no little bottles of courtesy water left on the dresser, so you’re stuck with tepid tap water. With a sigh, you pull on a pair of fluffy socks, pick up the small empty ice bucket, grab your room key, and head out into the hall. It’s late, and the hotel is quiet around you, everyone in their respective rooms fast asleep.

The ice machine is around the corner, down the hall, and set back in an enclave next to a vending machine. You fill your bucket up, stifling a wide yawn, before shaking off the sleepy feeling and closing the lid of the ice dispenser. Turning on your heel, you turn the corner and collide directly into a chest.

The man was walking at a good clip, turning the corner himself, so you rock back on unsteady footing, tripping backwards and colliding with the floor hard. The ice bucket in your hand slips, and the sharp metal edge of the lip of the bucket cuts across your palm, flaring a sharp line of pain in your hand.

“I’m so sorry!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching down for you.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, brushing off some wayward cubes of ice that landed on you, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

When you look up your breath catches in your throat.

“Still,” the man says, crouching at your side and softly gripping under your forearms to help you to your feet, “I was too busy looking at my phone. Are you okay?”

“Uh,” you fish in your brain for anything to say, “yes, yeah, I’m fine.”

Now on your feet, you realize just how tall he is, especially standing so close. His eyes are kind, soft and brown, an embarrassed blush across his cheeks, and he keeps his hands resting on your arms as he looks down at you.

“I really am sorry,” he says again.

The shock of recognizing him is wearing off and you take a small step back, waving him off, “I promise, it’s fine. Thank you for your help though,”

His eyes widen suddenly and he reaches for you, taking your hand in his and turning it over in his wide palm, “Your hand!”

Across the heel of your hand, a deep cut runs across the fleshy base of your thumb where the sharp edge of the ice bucket dragged across it. Blood wells over, smeared across your skin where you skidded on the floor when you fell. Looking at it now, you can feel it, a slow throb of pain radiating out.  

“Oh,” you manage, grimacing.

“Now, I’m really sorry,” he says, and when you glance up at him you can see how red his ears have gone.

“I think it looks worse than it is,” you pull your hand back and smile, “you don’t need to worry.”

His eyebrows are knit together in concern and as you lean down to pick up the discarded ice bucket, he glances down the empty hall, and then back to you. “Let me do that,” he drops down, gathering the ice that has scattered on the hotel floor and dropping it into his own empty bucket to discard.

You rock back on your heels and watch him as he fusses around you, clearly embarrassed, and you take the moment to look him over. He’s much more handsome up close, but without the makeup and styled hair, he looks so real.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you say.

He looks up, meeting your eyes again and smiles, “I’m Yunho,”

“I know,” you say, and now you know you’re blushing yourself.

“Oh,” he helps you to your feet again, “you’re a fan?”

“Kind of,” again, you wish for nothing more than a filter over your mouth.

His eyes widen a bit as he takes in your words, “Kind of a fan,”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “my friend gave me her ticket, I only knew some of your songs before, but the show was amazing. I’m a fan now,”

He grins, “Oh, well that’s nice, thank you.”

There’s a bit of a pause between you, and you know it’s time to let him off the hook. You should go back to your room and figure out the cut on your hand and go back to your original plan of going to sleep. You should let him get back to his room and whatever his plans were for the evening. You should.

“Well, I should let you go,” you take a step away, and his hand leaves your elbow, “but it was nice to meet you, and really, the show was incredible.”

You start to step away, but he stops you, “Wait, wait,” Yunho steps in front of you, blocking your path back up the hall, “at least let me take care of your hand, I feel terrible.”

“Oh, no I think it’s honestly fine,” you smile, “like I said, it looks worse than it is.”

“You have a first aid kit in your room?” He asks, and something in his expression tells you that he already knows you don’t.

“Not exactly,”

“Then let me patch you up,” his smile is warm and inviting, everything about his presence easy and comfortable, “it’s the least I can do.”

“You travel with a first aid kit?” You raise an eyebrow, but let him take your hand again so he can take a look at the cut.

“No,” he shakes his head, “but our managers do,”

“Fine,” you concede, “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“Good,” he nods and gestures with his arm for you to follow, “my room’s just down here.”

A flutter of anxiety washes through you, the idea of being in his room strange and sudden. You had been minutes from sleep not that long ago, and now here you are walking into Jeong Yunho’s hotel room. It feels a little like a dream, but think that at least in a dream you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself in front of him and cut open your hand, you would have said something cool and flirty, so definitely this is just reality.

He opens the door with a keycard and holds the door open for you, “Come on in,”

You thought he would have a roommate or at least a manager in the room, but when you step over the threshold and the heavy hotel door shuts behind you, you realize that his room is just like yours, empty with one queen sized bed and clothes and travel supplies littered around.

“Obviously I didn’t think I’d have company,” he jogs across the room and grabs the clothes up off the floor, tossing them into an open suitcase and flipping it shut. He sweeps away some wrappers off the counter top too and pushes them into a waiting wastebasket.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you laugh, “you haven’t seen my room.”

It’s cute how nervous he seems to be, and when he’s done clearing away the clutter he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. He looks up, and realizes that you’re still standing in the entryway. “Sorry, here, take a seat and I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He physically steers you into the room and back towards the edge of the bed. He ducks into the bathroom, and you hear him shuffle around, clearly digging through items, before he comes back with a handful of supplies. “This should be good,”

“I appreciate this, by the way,” you tell him, “I’m sure that you’re exhausted after the show.”

 He sits next to you on the edge of the bed and drops the first aid items between you, before taking your injured hand back into his and sweeping a warm wet washcloth across your skin. “Honestly, after a show I can never sleep.”

“Really?”

“I’m always too keyed up,” he shrugs, carefully wiping away the blood away from your hand, staining the washcloth pink, “it’s such a rush of energy and then suddenly nothing,”

“They have a word for that,” you say, hissing slightly when he presses a little too hard across the cut itself.

He lifts the cloth and looks up from his work to your eyes, “Sorry, sorry,”

“I’m good,” you assure him.

He nods and more carefully sweeps the cloth over your skin, “You were saying?”

“Oh,” you run back through the thoughts, the conversation from a moment ago, “Oh! Yes, that feeling, they call it post concert depression.”

“That’s accurate.” He says, pointedly.

“Everything and then nothing,” you nod, “it must be overwhelming for you.”

He shrugs, but you can see he’s nodding too, and as he squeezes out a bit of ointment to apply to your hand he says, “It can be. You go from thousands of fans telling you they love you to your own thoughts alone in a hotel room within an hour. Nothing can really prepare you for how that feels.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur. With a glance around the room you realize how empty it must be, on tour with no one but your crew and group mates, far from home in strange places, sometimes with a heavy language barrier. The words leave you before you can catch them, “It seems kind of lonely,”

His fingers still and he looks up to you, “Sometimes,”

This close, he really is just a boy. Your stomach flip flops and you lean back a bit, blush heating your cheeks again. You can’t quite stop thinking about his beautiful mouth.

You can almost touch the pause between you, the silence stretching out and enveloping you both, but he clears his throat softly and looks back down to your hand, “I think you were right, it’s really not too bad.”

“I thought so,”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asks, peeling open a bandaid.

“Not too much,” you shake your head.

He turns your hand over in his, the back of your knuckles resting in his palm, and you realize just how large his are and how small yours looks held in his. “Did you come to the show with someone?” he asks suddenly.

“No,” you shift, angling towards him a bit more to make the position more comfortable, “I came by myself, my friend only had the one ticket.”

              He hums in acknowledgement and pauses briefly before he says, “Did you travel far? By yourself?”

You catch his eyes, your eyebrows raised, “Not too far, and yes. It’s only a three hour drive, I just didn’t want to drive back so late in case I was tired.”

Yunho nods, and refocuses on his task to apply two large bandaids over the cut, his long fingers smoothing out the edges of the adhesive tightly over your skin. He examines his work carefully to make sure it fits comfortably over your hand and murmurs, “There we go,”

You pull your hand back, flexing your fingers and testing out the feeling, “That’s perfect, thank you so much.”

“It was my fault you got hurt anyways,” he smiles, “I’m just glad it wasn’t too bad and I could help.”

You’re pretty sure you should get up and leave, but his smile is kind and warm and you can’t quite make your legs move. His eyes flick over you, his fingertips lingering on your injured hand, and when his ears flush red again he stands and clears his throat, “Well,”

“I should get back to my room,” you interrupt, jumping up and pulling down the sleeves of your hoodie, “but thank you so much.”

He steps back and towards the door, pulling it open and holding out an arm to let you pass through it into the hallway. When he follows you out into the hall and shuts the door he says, “Let me walk you back to your room, it’s late.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, but you smile up at him anyways.

 “I want to,” he assures you.

There’s a pause, and you remember yourself, “Oh, right! It’s this way,” you wave him to follow you and start down the hallway back towards the ice machine, walking in step with each other slowly.

“So,” he glances down at you, “what do you do?”

“I’m a student,” you tell him, “in graduate school.”

“Oh,” he nods, “that’s impressive.”

You shrug, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“I would,” he shakes his head, “I was never very good at staying attentive during school let alone doing post grad. I had too much energy,”

“It makes sense you’re a dancer then,” you note, and with every sidelong glance up at him your stomach flutters. He isn’t flirting with you, he’s just being kind, but he’s still just as charming and it makes you wish for just a little more time with him.

“Mm,” he nods, “I have to be moving, I can’t help it.”

You’ve noticed that already, in the short time you’ve spent together. Even after the long show it seems like he is overflowing with energy. His leg bouncing, his fingers dancing, something unconscious vibrating under his skin.

Now that you’ve turned the corner on the hotel floor, you can see your door just ahead and you wish there was just a little more hallway. “Do you leave soon?” You ask him.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he nods, “you?”

“Sometime in the morning, I think. I have some work to get done tomorrow and shouldn’t leave too late,”

As you approach your door, you slow your steps and he realizes you must be at your room. “This is me,” you gesture towards the door and turn to face him, “thank you for everything.”

He waves your thanks off and smiles, “It’s really the least I could do,” he says again.

“It really was nice to meet you,” you tell him honestly, “I’m just sorry I ran right into you to do it.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says, and then you watch his expression shift as he backtracks, “well, I’m sorry I knocked you over, but I’m not sorry I met such a pretty girl.”

Heat flushes your face instantly at his words and you glance down, fighting a smile.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot, “I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m clearly making a bit of a fool of myself.”

 You laugh immediately, looking back up to him, “Hardly. You’re actually very charming, it’s kind of annoying.”

He laughs, covering his mouth with one hand and taking a step away, “I’m annoying you, am I?”

“No, I just meant,” you sigh, covering your face with your hands, “I really just don’t think before I speak, I swear.”

“y/n,” your name on his lips sends a chill through you and you look up at him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I like it.”

“You like me calling you annoying?”

Something passes over his face at your words, a shift, and he says, “I do, it’s cute.”

Your stomach clenches, the conversation drifting into a new space you feel wholly unprepared for. You cross your arms, tucking your hands away and looking up to him, “You’re not what I expected,”

“No?” He grins, leaning on the wall next to your door.

“You don’t seem like an idol,” you explain.

He shrugs, “We are just people,”

“I’m getting that,” you say honestly. At a beat between you, you sigh, “How late is it?”

He pulls his cellphone out of his sweat pants pocket and checks the time before quickly returning it, “Almost two,”

You sigh, nodding and reach into your pocket for your keycard, “It’s late… I should go,”

He nods and watches as you swipe your card over the door lock and prop open the heavy door. Something is stalling you, pulling you back into the hall, but he makes the leap for you. He reaches out and gently touches your forearm, “Maybe I’m feeling bold because it’s so late,” he says and you look back to him, “but I’ve enjoyed talking to you, if you’re not too tired maybe we could have a drink or something?”

“You want to have a drink with me?” You can’t help the look of shock that crosses your face.      “Well, yes,” his hand rests more comfortably on your forearm now, his thumb stroking your skin softly, just once, “if you want to.”

You shift back towards him, the door closing behind you now that you’re no longer propping it open, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Do you want to have a drink with me because you want to have a drink with me, or because you don’t want to be alone after the show?”

His eyes flick away, and you can see him think before he looks up and says, “Can it be both?”

His honesty makes this easier, knowing that he wasn’t feeding you a line just to be a flirt or trick you into something. You smile, “Yeah,”

“What about you?” He asks, taking a step towards you and closing the space between you, “If you say yes is it because you want to have a drink with me, or because you’re alone in a strange hotel room?”

He has a warm, flirtatious smile on his lips, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the proximity between you both and between you and the door behind you. “Both,” you answer. It’s entirely possible you’re reading into things, but it’s also entirely possible Yunho is making a move and this night might end with him inside you. Warmth curls in your belly at the thought.

“So, what do you say?” He shifts a little closer, and you press a hand to the center of his chest to keep him where he is.

“Let’s have a drink.” You agree, “But I don’t have anything inside.”

He steps away and thinks a moment, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll come back,”

“You’re not going to disappear on me, are you?” You tease with a sly smile.

“Definitely not,” he squeeze your arm softly before he drops it, “I’ll be right back.”

 He steps back and you move to open your door again. His eyes flick up to the number on your hotel room door and you watch him silently repeat the number to himself and commit it to memory. He tells you he’ll see you soon, and you watch him jog down the hallway in the direction of his room.

Once he disappears and you slip back into your own room things feel suddenly incredibly surreal. Meeting him like this felt like meeting anyone, bumping into a stranger and making a connection just like you would at a bar. The ten minutes between your door closing and Yunho knocking is fast, and you spend it picking up your space and cleaning up the bedding, quickly brushing your teeth, fluffing your hair and discarding the oversized sweatshirt.

His soft knock on your door has you jumping out of your skin, but you pull the door open and can’t help but laugh. He’s holding up a six pack of obviously cold light beers, and two bottles of soju, an incredibly cheeky grin on his face. He’s a flirt, then.

“Come in,” you wave him in, and he crosses by you to set the drinks on the desk and turn back to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that his eyes flick over you, your body more on display in a fitted tank top now that your sweatshirt was off.

“I’m not sure what you like,” he pulls a beer from the sleeve and holds it out to you, “but this is pretty light,”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, popping the top off the beer and discarding the twist off in the trash, “where did you get this anyways? It’s two in the morning.”

“The downstairs bar is open until three,” he explains.

“Ah,” you take a swig of the beer and watch him follow suit. It’s easier to watch him now that you both have acknowledged the heat between you, and you find yourself appreciating a lot of little things. His hands are large, making the bottle in his grip seem smaller. You find yourself staring at the soft edge of his jaw when he tips his head back for a drink, and noticing the broad set of his shoulders when he stands at his full height.

Yunho takes a few more sips of his drink, and once he’s had about a third of his beer, he reaches for a bottle of soju to mix in a shot. You hop up from your perch on the dresser and reach out to him, “Oh, wait, let me.”

His brow is a little furrowed, but he hands the unopened bottle of soju to you. “Okay?”

“I’m not a very seasoned drinker,” you explain, “but I do have a party trick or two. I think everyone should,”

With practiced hands you flip the bottle quickly, the alcohol inside spinning quickly into a whirlwind. Taking the neck of the bottle in one hand, you tap your opposite elbow firmly on the base of the bottle before twisting it cleanly around in your hands, all the while untwisting the cap. You present the open bottle with a flourish, the soju still whirling inside, and take a small playful bow. He’s grinning, and he claps at the trick, “That’s expertise,” he says.

“In opening bottles, maybe,” you pass it over to him so he can add his shot, and then add one to your bottle too, “in drinking, not so much.”

“Me either,” he confesses, “a drink here or there, but I’m not really one to overdo it.”

“You’re probably too busy,” you take a drink, and sidle closer to where he sits on the edge of the hotel room’s desk.

He shrugs, “it’s that, but also it makes your body feel terrible. If I don’t have a clear head it shows up on stage.”

“That makes sense,”

“Yeah,” he takes another drink, but you can see he’s already slowing down, “we have to be very conscious about our health, so drinking occasionally is fine but I don’t normally do it.”

“But you wanted to drink with me?” You ask, turning towards him more fully.

He smiles, “I thought it might be weird if I asked you to just keep talking in your room at two in the morning. Drinks are a good excuse,”

His honesty strikes you again, “I think I still would have said yes.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

You nod, taking another drink, and say, “Maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I don’t think you’re here just to talk, right?”

Yunho is quiet, his eyes flicking over you, “You’re very direct.”

“I’ve been told,” you smile, shrugging.

“I like direct,” he clarifies.

“Yunho,” you murmur, and you watch his eyes flicker at the sound of his name, “what do you want?”

He swallows, takes another drink, and swallows again, his throat tight, “If you’re saying yes, then I’d like to fuck you.”

The bottle in your hand slips a little and you grip down on it to keep it from falling, Yunho watches and smiles at your reaction. It cannot be overstated that this is not how you thought the night was going to go.

“Yes,” you decide not to think.

His hands are on you in a moment, one braced on your hip and the other cupping the back of your neck so he can drag you forwards along the desk and crash his mouth into yours. You like direct too.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he breaks the kiss, “I’m sorry, I was going to be cooler about this, but you’re very cute.”

You hum a laugh against his mouth, feeling his smile, and shake your head a little when you break away, “I really don’t think we have to pretend if it’s just tonight,”

“Yeah?”

“Be yourself,” you kiss him again, “I’ll be myself. It’s only one night, so why be nervous the whole time?”

“I like you,” he grins, “I’m really glad I met you,”

“Ran into me,” you tease him.

“Ran into you,” he nods, “now come here,” The way he kisses is fast, firm, and insistent, his tongue dipping into your mouth and running along yours, a huff of warm shared breath between you. His hands hold you perfectly, fingers applying perfect pleasure as he squeezes you and it sends a dizzy rush through your brain when you realize just how small you are in his grip.

When you shudder a moan against his mouth, heat pooling in your core, he pulls back and stands up. Moving in front of you, he hooks his fingers in the top of your sweats and yanks down, taking your underwear with them. You brace your hands on the desk to lift your hips up so he can pull them all the way off and toss them to the side.

“Arms up,” he says, soft and firm, when he starts to pull your shirt over your head, and you comply immediately.

You can see the outline of his hard cock through his own sweatpants, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. He takes a step back to regard you and smiles, reaching down and catching one of your feet in his hands, still wearing your fluffy, colorful socks. “These are too fucking cute,” he teases you, and you blush.

“Stop it,” you laugh.

“I don’t know,” he drags a hand up your calf, under the hook of your knee, the top of your thigh, “Maybe you should leave them on, they’re kind of hilarious.”

“I clearly wasn’t expecting to get laid,” you start to say, but when his fingers dip down and brush your inner thigh, mere inches from your core, you gasp a breathy inhale.

“Still cute,” he smirks, and before you can retort he’s on his knees.

Looking down at him sends a rush of instant heat through you, and you barely register the fact that he’s slipped your socks off now and tossed them aside, leaving you fully naked and exposed to his gaze. His hands grip your backside and drag you forward on the desk, lining your hips up perfectly with the edge, and he pushes your thighs open to move forwards between them.

He’s moving fast, rocketing past teasing kisses and harmless groping, but you don’t seem to care. There’s a time clock on the night, and you’re sure once he’s had his fill he’ll leave and move on with his tour and his life, but you’re oddly okay with it. He dips low, hooking your legs over his shoulders, “Lay back,” he instructs.

You ease back on the desk, still staying propped up on your forearms so you can look down between your legs and see the dark mop of his hair, but providing him the access that he needs. He presses close to the apex of your thighs but doesn’t quite touch you, softly he blows a stream of cool air over your exposed clit and you jolt. “You have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen,”

His words make you arch your back just slightly, involuntarily, and you let out a breathy moan, “Oh my god,”

“Do you want my mouth on you, pretty girl?” he asks, pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs.

An image of his mouth flashes in your brain, his plush bottom lip, his perfectly curved cupid’s bow. The way his tongue juts into his cheek when he’s teasing. You’re surprised at how easily you beg for him, “Please, please,”

He chuckles, bringing his arms under your thighs now and reaching around to brace your hips. His hands settle over your stomach and lower ribs, and he presses firmly down with his hands when he realizes you’re still propped up and not laying flat like he wants you. You drop back, letting your head rest against the hard desktop, the cool chill of the wood adding to the prickling sensation of goosebumps across your body.

“Say please again,” he tells you, and your words catch in your throat when he licks a firm stripe up your slit.

“P-please,” you shudder, and he listens.

He devours you, hungry for every drop of your slick arousal, and desperate to hear every little pant and moan you make when he focuses on sucking softly at your swollen clit. He dips his tongue inside you, hot and pulsing, and you groan, trying to rock your hips but finding that his hands are holding you exactly where he wants you.      

When he delivers a sharp suck, your brain whites out, “Fuck, fuck,” you’re reaching for something to grab, to hold, and you desperately grip one of his hands. He twists it, catching your hand in his much larger one, intertwining your fingers and keeping it pressed to your stomach as he works you.

“There you go,” he pants when you arch against his tongue, flicking your clit perfectly from side to side.

“Yunho,” his hands grip down on you when you say his name, and pleasure curls tight inside you, ready to burst. “Yunho, I can’t,”

He doesn’t respond, simply works his mouth against you faster, firmer, his nose bumping your clit. Your free hand laces into his hair, gripping tightly and he groans against your heat. Your hips are bucking softly, chasing the sensation, and he shifts the tempo of his tongue to match your needy thrusts and perfect the pace you need. It’s seconds before you’re about to fall over the edge, your thighs shaking and your legs tightening around him. You pant his name again, and he presses closer, the added pressure tipping you over into a tidal wave.

The sound that leaves your lips is desperate, a crying choke of pleasure as you arch back, legs locked tightly around him, and your hand slipping out of his hair to come down hard on the table and brace yourself there. When your moans turn to soft whimpers, he slows, lapping at you softly through your aftershocks and pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Oh my god, you’re good at that,” you manage, recovering your breath.

He leans back, untangling his hand from yours and gently unhooking your legs from his shoulders. He holds you up, since you had wriggled off the edge of the desk a bit and helps ease you up to a sitting position again. He looks overwhelmingly pleased with himself, a wet glisten of your arousal across his mouth and chin. His hair is mussed from where you grabbed it, his cheeks flushed pink, and you want nothing more than to tackle him and kiss him soundly.

Yunho stands to his full height and offers you a hand, “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable,”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little breathless still.

He steers you to the bed, tipping you backwards so you can collapse onto the mattress and you watch him as he undresses. He pulls the loose tour t-shirt over his head and you can’t help but admire him, watching him carefully as he moves to shuck off his sweats. He’s incredibly lean, taut sinewy muscles that jump with every flex of his hands or shift of his body. Bruises litter his shins and knees, and you catch more along his elbows and forearms, a collection you suspect is from how hard they dance.

When he drops his boxers, you can feel your eyebrows jump up and he laughs at your expression. “What?” he teases.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “you know exactly what.”

He blushes, his ears running red, and he clears his throat a little awkwardly before moving forwards to kneel on the mattress between your open legs. He sweeps a broad hand up your thigh, kneading your skin softly and says, “You still good?”

He’s nervous, you realize. You suspect that in his past he’s had a few negative experiences given his expression, girls who maybe shied away or feigned some excuse to end things early. Despite his intimidating size though, you’ve never wanted anything more, and you can feel the low throb of your core return as you look at him.

“I’m still very good,” you assure him, reaching up a hand.            

His expression clears slightly, “Yeah?”

You change tactics, shifting up fully to a sitting position and reaching up to catch the back of his neck and pull him down, “Don’t be so full of yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the tension, “I can take you just fine.”

He smirks, falling over you easily and holding himself suspended above you, “you think so?”

You really hope you can, but you double down, “Easy.”

The head of his cock connects with your entrance suddenly with a shift of his hips and you jerk, surprised at the sudden sensation, and he pushes forwards just enough to slip the head of him inside you, a hungry sly smile across his face now that he knows you’re back to playing. He pulls back when you gasp, a laugh on his lips and shakes his head, “You’re not ready yet.”

You want him so badly it makes you feel needy, a squirming urge to rock yourself against his cock until you come or until he fucks you into the floor, and you push him back with a hand on his shoulder just slightly so you can better meet his gaze, “Yes, I am,”

He smiles down at you, pleased with your bratty insistence, and shifts back up to kneel between your open legs again. He pulls you up by your hips, dragging your body into a better position, and for a moment you think he’s about to throw hesitation out the window and do it, but he doesn’t. He strokes himself with one hand as he looks down at you, and then lines your hips together, positioning you so he can let the hard straight length of his cock rest on top of your mound.

From here you can feel the hot length of him, from the base against your pubic bone to the tip that just covers your navel. Yunho squeezes your hips in his hands as he looks down at you, “You really think you’re ready for this, tiny?”

The nickname has your muscles clenching around nothing, your fingers tightening in the sheets, and a breathy groan slips out of your lips.

“Oh,” he smiles, “you like that, don’t you?”

Before this minute you didn’t, but here with him above you, proving with every inch of his body just how much larger he is than you? You want nothing more than to be caged in by him and used just the way he wants you. “Yes,” you manage, “please,”

“Please?” He chuckles, sliding back.

You nod, your hips jerking up and trying to catch some friction against your clit as he drags his cock back off you.

He shakes his head, “I’ve got to work you up to it, tiny.”

You want to respond, you want to say something teasing and clever, but the words die on your lips when he dives two of his long fingers inside you. He reaches the tender soft spot inside you easily, something that you could only hit just right with your favorite vibrator, but he catches it with ease and flicks his finger against it perfectly, his thumb landing on your clit to deliver punishing circles.

Your hips work against his hand, grinding down desperately for more pressure and he delivers it, picking up your needs immediately.

“Please,” you blink up, catching his eyes, “please fuck me,”

He shakes his head, “Only if you come again,”

“But,” you start to say, but a firm push of his hand and the addition of a third finger has you choking back a moan and arching into his hands.

“Are you close, pretty?” his low voice sparks pleasure up your body.

All you can do is whine a yes, nodding as you press your eyes shut and let the sensations roll over you. Heat flushes your chest, spreading a blush up your neck and face, and all you can hear is the wet sounds of his fingers working your sopping core. He hums softly in approval and it sends you over again, wrenching your body tight and up, your hips raised and bucking as you crest into your second orgasm.

Yunho’s wide palm comes down quickly over your lower stomach and he presses you down hard to force your hips back to the mattress and he continues pumping his fingers, holding you steady through your release. You barely register it when his fingers leave you, your head spotty and dazed, but you come back to yourself at the feeling of his cock nudging your clit.

“Wait, wait,” you’re panting, clearing your vision with furious blinks, “condom?”

“Shit,” he backs up immediately, “of course, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, “I’m on birth control, we should just… we don’t really know each other,”

He hops off the bed, reaching down for his discarded sweatpants and searching through the pockets. “No, no,” he tears open the foil packet in his hands, “I have one, I just got a little carried away.”

“Perfect,” you sigh.

He rolls the condom over his length, checking the tip and smoothing down the base to fit snugly around him before tossing the empty packet back over the side of the bed and returning to his original position.

“Ready?” He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance again.

“Yeah,” you grip his shoulder, “yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, and seems focused. He takes one of your knees and presses it up, folding you back and opening you up wider, and then lines up his hips perfectly. “Fuck,” he breathes, shifting forwards and pressing into you just a bit, “you’re so tight,”

The press of him already is overwhelming, and it’s no longer his length that you’re focused on but how thick he feels, stretching you wide and sending a hot flush of pleasure up your chest. “You feel,” you stutter out, unable to finish your thought.

His hips jut forwards again and you whine, his forehead dropping against yours for just a moment as he holds himself controlled and steady, “Tell me,” he prompts you, moving in deeper.

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he smooths the damp hair back from your face to get a good look at you.

“Too much?”

“God, no,” you didn’t know it could feel quite like this.

“Yeah, tiny?” He sinks in further and groans.

“Please,” your hands shift down and you pull him closer, your nails digging in to his firm backside, “more,”

He’s losing his composure now, and his eyes roll shut when he finally thrusts forwards more sharply, sinking his entire length inside you and bottoming out. He’s stretching you fully, filling every little warm place inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and fleetingly you wish you could feel him more fully, no thin latex separating your warm wet walls from him.

“Fuck,” he starts to roll his hips, fucking you softly as he works your body up to taking more, “tell me how you feel, baby,”

“Full,” you answer immediately, “I can feel you everywhere,”

“God,” he chokes, his hips stuttering, “can you take more?”

“Yunho,” you catch his cheek in your hand and bring his eyes to yours, “I need it,”

“Yeah, tiny?” He teases, thrusting just a little more firmly.

The need inside you for more is deep though, and you can’t wait any longer. “No, Yunho,” you level him with your look, clenching your muscles tight around his hot length, “Fuck me, do whatever you want to me, I just,” you search for the right words, “just please,”

He answers with a firm thrust, and when he watches your eyes roll back and hears the moan that leaves your lips he understands. “Is that what you need?” He holds you firmly and ruts into you, “you like it harder?”

You’re sure you answer him because you hear him laugh softly in response, but your mind is hazy and disconnected, nothing but the feeling of his thick heat hitting every place you need it to, bringing you up faster than ever.

“Yeah, pretty?” He’s everywhere, collapsed over you and desperate, one hand on your thigh to hold you open, the other locked now in your hair, his breath hot over your damp skin, his pace never faltering, “you just want me to use you?”

Your body arches deeply, shifting the position of him inside you and you choke a whine out, gripping onto him tightly, “Please, please,” you can’t stop.

“Shh, shh,” he kisses you hard, his hands holding you roughly, “you’ll take what I give you,”

You nod against him, unable to find anything but pleasure and the tight feeling inside you. He dips his thumb into your mouth, running the pad of it along your tongue, and you suck his digit gently, before he pulls his hand back and firmly flicks his wet thumb over your pert nipple.

“God, Yunho,” you thrust up to meet him, your hips connecting fast and firm, “I’m- I’m,”

“Come for me,” he directs, “come and I’ll fill you up,”

Your brain shorts out, and the hot sensation that you’ve been chasing turns stifling, crashing into you and turning you into a quivering mess, your muscles locked and jerking against his hold as you come hard and fast.

He tumbles over behind you, the feeling of your walls pulsing down on his length sending him into a spiral, and you hear him curse, panting, losing his grip on you and fucking into you desperate and fast until he comes, collapsing over you and pressing your cheek into his sweaty chest.

His heart is beating hard and fast against your cheek, and it takes a moment before you both recover and he can ease himself off of you, out of you. He discards of the condom in the waste basket, and turns back to you, realizing you haven’t so much as moved an inch since he left you.

“Hey,” he sighs, sweeping a hand through his damp hair, “you okay?”

“So perfect,” you sigh.

He smiles, “Can I get you anything?”

Your limbs start to come alive again, and you ease yourself up into a sitting position against the headboard, pulling the sheets over you, “Water?”

“On it,” he slips his boxers back on and returns with a glass of cool water.

You’re not sure what his next move will be, staying or going, but you know what you wish he would do. He surprises you when he collapses back onto the bed next to you with a sigh, resting a wide hand on your thigh and squeezing you, “You’re amazing,” he says.

“You did all the work,” you chuckle, “I feel like I should be telling you that.”

He shakes his head, “No, it was great,” you look down at him and his eyes are gently shut, his mouth open softly as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few minutes, and it’s clear he’s not going to be moving any time soon, he looks spent, a second away from sleep, and judging by the late hour you figure it’s better to let him stay if he wants to. You grab your phone off the nightstand and start to set an alarm.

“Yunho,” you murmur, prodding his shoulder gently, “what time do you need to be up?”

He hums, shrugging.

“Hey,” you nudge him again, “you can sleep here if you want, just tell me what time to get you up.”

“Nine?” he blinks his eyes open, “I can go if you’d be more comfortable,”

“No, no, stay,” you ease down into the covers, and he shifts to slide in beside you, “I’d like it if you did.”

“Good,” he sighs again, reaching across the empty space between you and pulling you back into his chest. He snuggles into you, spooning you close and relaxing against you, “because I really hate sleeping alone.”

Warmth heats your chest, and you finish setting the alarm before you relax back into his embrace, “Me too.”

You sleep, but you wake twice before the alarm, the first time to Yunho’s hips rolling against your backside, his cock hard again and straining against his boxers and looking for friction. He fucks you soft the second time, spooning you still and holding you open, gentle thrusts and his fingers massaging your swollen bud until you come gentle and easy against the warm plane of his chest.

The second time he’s gone, and you think for a moment that he’s left entirely. You’re not necessarily surprised, but he had seemed nice enough to at least say goodbye after fucking you twice and holding you all night. 

The sound of your hotel room door makes you jump, and you pull yourself up, holding the fluffy white comforter to your front and running a hand hastily through your hair.

Yunho’s back, freshly showered and already dressed for the day in stylishly baggy light wash jeans and an oversized blazer. “Oh,” he smiles, “you’re up!”

In the light of day, seeing him cleaned up like this has the reality of the evening crashing into you sideways. You had made fun of him, flirted with him, begged him, fucked him, and now you’re still sitting naked in front of him like a mess while he’s looking like what he is, an idol.

“Hey,” you manage.

He holds up a hand and you see now that he has a coffee cup and a small white pastry bag, “I brought you some breakfast,”

You’re really not even sure what to say he’s being so sweet, but you smile, watching as he drops the bag and coffee cup off on your side table. “Thanks,” you take the coffee happily, and he pulls a few packets of sugar out of his pocket.

“I didn’t know how you like it,” he says, a little sheepish, “but I didn’t want to wake you,”

“No, no, this is perfect, thank you so much.”

“I have to get going,” he sits on the edge of the bed, turned towards you, his hand resting on your knee with such easy familiarity, “but I wanted to make sure you got up too, I know you have a long drive back.”

Something inside you melts, “Thank you, Yunho, that’s so nice of you,”

“I also,” he shifts, a smile on his lips, “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too,” you nod, resting your hand on his.

“It was really nice getting to know you,” he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his other hand coasting down your bare back.

You sigh against his lips. It had been a long time since you had had a soft morning like this, and the feeling of his hands on your skin again and his warm kiss on your lips has you feeling weightless and dizzy.

Yunho leans back and squeezes your knee gently, “I really do have to go,”

“It’s okay,” you smile, “I get it, but yeah, I had a good time too.”

Yunho takes your hand in his and turns it over, “How’s this feel?” he nods his head towards your injured palm.

You had honestly forgotten about it, “Completely fine, don’t worry,”

“Good,” he drops a kiss to your palm with a teasing eyebrow raise and stands, smoothing down his jacket.

“Well,” you would get up and see him to the door, but you blush and hold the comforter a little higher over your chest, “have a safe rest of your tour,”

“I will,” he nods, “you have a safe drive,”

You nod, and you expect him to go, but he shifts, glancing at the floor for a moment and then back up to your eyes. “I put my number in the bag,”

The sentence doesn’t quite make sense to you, “You what?”

“My number,” he explains, looking at you a little more clearly as if that will explain, but he says, “if you want,”

“Want to what?”

He laughs at your expression, “Text me, if you want to message me sometime.”

“Oh!”

“Only if you want,” he says, and when you start to open your mouth to respond he gestures for you to stop, “otherwise we can leave it here. Either way, I’m glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you nod earnestly.

His phone dings in his pocket and he sighs, his eyes closing in annoyance for a moment, “Okay, that’s my cue. Drive safe,” he says again and starts to slowly head for the door, “and maybe I’ll talk to you,”

“Maybe,” you respond, noncommittal but you already know your decision.

He smiles, “Okay,”

“Okay,”

He pushes himself towards the door with a groan, “Alright, I’m going. You look pretty in the morning by the way,”

A laugh breaks out of your chest, “Thank you?”

“I just thought you should know,” he shrugs, flirtatious and teasing, but with the sound of the door opening and swinging shut you know he’s gone.

It takes you about three seconds to tear the bag open and see if he was being serious. Tucked into the pastry bag, nestled on top of the wax paper, is a little card with his number written out and his name, Jeong Yunho, as if you wouldn’t remember his name.

You key it into your phone immediately, a message open and waiting. You bite your lip, nervous and unsure of what to say, but then you hear his parting words ringing in your ears again. You type the message out and send it immediately, not pausing long enough to think too hard or overanalyze the decision.

You look handsome in the morning too, just so you know.

You toss the phone aside and leap out of the bed, needing suddenly to walk far away and clear your head. You pull the hotel robe around yourself and sigh into your hands, recounting the night and the way his soft sweetness made your stomach flip flop. You start to walk towards the bathroom, ready to start a warm shower and clear your head, when you hear the soft ding of an incoming message, and you can’t help but smile.

[heartfullofleeches]

Parasitic Angel

Yandere Incubus (Oc) x G.N Reader 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: Reader is implied to have depression, themes of masochism and gaslighting

It’s too loud. Music surrounds you; swarming every thought as it thumps loudly in your ears. You sit at the bar, nursing a watered down drink in your hands as the time passes. You don’t remember what you ordered, nor do you feel like trying it out. The remaining ice clinks against the glass as you stir it around, reflecting your distant gaze on its surface. All you wanted was a little fresh air, but it was starting to feel stuffier than back at your apartment. Maybe it was time to just head back. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” 

A voice cuts through to your left; a curious smile stretched across its soft features. You’re not sure how you failed to notice the chair pulling out next to you, nor the click of his heels on the mirrored floor; but one thing was clear. With his arm propped up on the counter, and his leg wrapped around the foot of the chair; he made it obvious he wasn’t going anywhere soon. His backpack hung on the chair's back; two wings sewn into its pink spine. 

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” His smile edges into a friendly grin. He turns towards the bartender and starts chatting with him. You try to think nothing of it, but he soon returns his attention back to you; straw nursed on bright red lips as he speaks. “So, what are you doing here all by yourself?”

You look around, unsure as to whether he was talking to you or not. The awaiting stare he gives when you look back leads you to believe so. “Nothing. I was just out getting fresh air, and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sit in here for a while.”

“That sounds nice.” He muses, voice shrinking as he carries on. I was here with a couple friends, but it looks like they ditched me.`` 

“Oh, uh, that’s unfortunate. I guess.” 

He perks up almost immediately.  “It’s okay. There’s lots of people to keep me company. Would you mind doing that for a few minutes?”

“I’m not sure if I’d be the best person for that.”

“It’s just a little conversing. I’m sure you won’t bite. You can start off by telling me your name.”

“…Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. Everyone just calls me C.C.” The stranger scoots closer to you; staring so deeply in your eyes it made you a little uneasy. “So, tell me a little more about yourself.”

Despite better judgment; you tell him a few things. That’s what places like this were for after all – to let loose a little. Nothing damming, just a couple facts to get the conversation rolling. He seems invested, but after a while you begin to hear the click of his manicured nails on the countertop. 

When it’s his turn; C.C opens up like a book. He likes sweets, hates things that are spicy. A lightweight when it comes to alcohol. He apparently has an occupation in music, and enjoys hanging out in various bars on nights out. Despite all that, he claims at the end of his rambling that he feels – lonely. 

You check the time on your phone after what feels like hours had gone by. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably leave soon.”

“Aw, but I thought we were having fun. Could we.. continue the conversation somewhere else?.” He leans in closer; the shine of the disco lights above reflecting in his large eyes. Swirling around in his green irises; lips quirked in an enticing snare – it's almost hypnotic. He continues to tap his nails against the bar; its rhythm in tune with the beat of your heart. 

“Nah.. I have work in the morning, so I need to get some sleep.”

He bites back a frown: shoulders slumping. “Oh… that makes sense. Will I see you around though?”

“I’m not sure, but talking with you was kinda.. nice. Do you want my number or something?”

“Sure.” C.C grins. You exchange numbers and leave him alone at the bar shortly after. He clicks his tongue as you leave; disappointed an easy catch got away. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been someone who could resist his charms in the past, but it was always a pain when it happened. Oh well. At the very least, he got your number and that meant you weren’t completely out of reach yet.

-

Life went on, and you with it. The encounter had honestly begun to slip from your mind; till the weekend you received a call around noon. You forgot to actually save his number by name, but as you picked up you knew exactly who it was.

“Heyyy, Y/n. Miss me?”

“Oh, hey. C.C, right? What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to see how my new acquaintance was doing. You haven’t called me so I was worried! Aaaanyway, I have reservations to this cute little café that just opened up, but the friend I was going with bailed on me. Are you free today?”

“I’m not doing anything specific, but-“

“Great! I’ll send you the location. See you soon.”

He hangs up before you could reply and sends you the information. You really had nothing better to do, so you decided it couldn’t hurt to go.

The café was a quaint little place. Styled similarly to a cottage in a way, and walls painted red. An outdoor section was gated off by a small fence; tables lined up with matching umbrellas overhead. You spot C.C at one of the vacant tables; excitedly waving to you as you cross the street. He gets up and meets you halfway, leading you back to the table.

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/n. It would’ve been too lonely to sit at a place like this by myself.” He laughs; wing shaped earrings hanging from his lobes bouncing from the motion. A few things about him were different from the last time you saw him. His once strawberry blonde curls were now a faded lavender color; his eyes hazel. He had a few piercings through his left eyebrow that were easier to see due to his hair being pinned back by a hair clip with a bow and arrow drawn through it.

“No problem.. I. like your new look.”

“Really?” He brushes a strand behind his ear. “I change it often, but just had this done before my roots came out. Life needs variety, y'know? How has it been treating you lately, by the way? I’ve been thinking about you a lot since our last meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, it just seems like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders or something.”

“I wouldn’t say that… Just going through like most people I do I guess.” 

“I see. Well I don’t mind lending an ear sometimes.” C.C beams. Even if he couldn’t get the direct source; there were other ways to extract energy from humankind. Humans are so full of emotion; practically spilling from their hearts at any given moment. Not his preferred taste, but one he could manage. And to him, you were like a buffet. 

-

After that little get together, C.C found himself calling you again – and again. It was slightly refreshing to do things differently, and talking with you actually relieved some of his frustrations during rougher patches. If someone were to ask, he'd almost warm up to the idea of calling you a friend. You open up more as well over the following weeks. Obviously you didn’t dump any issues or stuff similar on him, but it was nice to have someone.

You find yourselves in his bedroom on the top floor in some fancy apartment building one summer eve; the world at your feet from the full view window by his bed. Rain beat against the thick glass; skies clouded by a blanket of darkness. You lay on his bed; an earbud fit in one ear and his song of choice blasting. 

“This is nice…” You mutter.

“I know right? This is one of my favorite songs from this artist.”

“Well, that too, but it’s nice to be able to just lay back and relax every once and a while. Things can get really stressful sometimes.” 

C.C looks down at you; your body sprawled on his silky sheets. He couldn’t hide the curiosity he had in seeing you in another light. He wasn’t one to take much notice in the differences between one human to the next, but you were a cute little thing. He lays down beside you; far enough so there’s no tension in the air, but where you were still in arms reach. He walks his fingers towards your side, laying his hand flat on the mattress as they brush against your arm.

“There’s always other ways I can help you out, Y/n.. All you need to do is ask.”

You turn your head so that you can face him completely, a faint smile on your face. “I.. like things the way they are now.”

C.C freezes at the softness in your gaze. He pulls his hand back to his side of the bed like yours was suddenly made of fire. Have.. Have your eyes always been so bewitching? He found himself lost in them, like he had tried to get you to see in his. He takes note of the curve of your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his. He sits up; almost crashing back to the mattress from the dull headache that shoots through his skull. 

“Aha.. Fuck..”

“C.C? Are you ok?” You sit up as well, lightly grabbing his arm as you check on him. The skin to skin contact sends a jolt up his spine; burning in a symphony of pleasure and an excruciating sting. He rips his arm free; your worry turning to confusion as you look at him.  

“Do… do the contacts you’re wearing change color?”

“What?..”

You point at his eyes. “Your eyes. They're pink.”

C.C bolts to the bathroom, ripping his bangs from his face. Just as you claimed; his eyes were a soft pink; their true color. They had bled through the yellow contacts he had put in that morning; glowing fainting in the bathroom light. He shoves a finger in his socket, but the contact is completely gone. He breathes heavily; letting out a shaky laugh with each exhale. It was just his eyes acting funny. There was nothing more behind it. Nothing at all.

-

C.C grew distant after that point. You still talked from time to time, but he wasn’t always his cheerful self; letting a darker, anxious version of himself slip through the cracks. His stomach twisted into knots when he saw you; his throat dry no matter how many bottles of water he downed. What the hell were you doing to him? It had to stop. 

For the first time ever, you’re the one that picks up the phone to call. He doesn’t answer when the line connects; hesitant to answer at all. Your voice is quiet when you finally speak; quivering. It makes his knees weak.

“C.C?”

“…Yea?”

“Can you, can you come over?”

“Why?”

“I’d really just like to see you.”

C.C's heart beats so fast it doesn’t feel like it’s moving at all. His face is hot; blistering from the heat. He collects himself eventually and gives you his response. “Sure.”

As your front door clicks open, he feels like running away. Turning tail and never seeing your adorable face again. Your eyes were as dull as when he first met you. It makes him want to hold you. 

“Hey….”He doesn’t reply to your greeting, silently following you inside. He had been over a couple times, but never paid as much attention to the layout of your apartment till now. It was small, fit for one unlike his that could fit a small family. You sit down on the couch; neither of you finding words to say. As time clicks on; you finally wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Y/n?!” He squeals, your breath hot on his neck as you place your face in its crook. “I’m sorry. I just… need to be close to someone right now, and you’re the only one that’s been around for a while.”

“Ah…”He slowly brings his arms around you, resting against the arm of the couch for support. He can feel your heartbeat thumping against his chest, and wonders if you can hear his. It’s so loud he can barely form a thought. That tingling feeling has returned; spreading over every area where your flesh meets. As if to seal the final nail in his coffin, you stare up at him with a look of gratitude.

“Thank you, C.C.”

He still couldn’t understand what you had done to him. Why that one expression had him feeling like no crowd had ever before – the center of the entire world. He finally had your body against his, but not in the way he originally wanted – yet it was so much better. He liked the fact that you needed him. He wanted to feel that rush through him forever. He wanted you to need him more. In whatever way you wanted. No matter how sick or twisted. 

Hurt him.

Break him. 

Ruin him. Whatever you desired. Just don't leave.

He would never come to learn what these feelings were until weeks later. In the time he had distanced himself from you, you had made a few new friends through the fleeting confidence you had given him. It was just some folks at work and close to it, but they were nice. One in particular, however, was just a little nicer than the rest.

-

“I think I’m in love with someone, C.C.”

The thought came from nowhere. You were one his bed again, some movie playing in the background as you spoke your mind. You could consider him your best friend at his point, and you something else entirely to him. He rolls over onto his stomach; bile risen in the back of his throat. 

Love.

Even though you’re already past it, he can see the way you look at just the mention of this maybe crush. It disgusts him. What did this person do to win your heart? What did this maggot have that would make you fall for them like this? What did it have, that he didn’t?

“Are you sure, Y/n?”

“I said I think.. Why do you ask though?”

“I just want the best for my bestie.. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything like that. He’s.. nice.”

C.C's eye twitches. “Really? Well tell me all about him then.”

-

Peter whistles to himself as he walks down the dimly lit road away from the busy club he had been in moments prior. His face was flush with the buzz that ran through him, and his steps were staggered. He felt good. The kind of good that he would regret tomorrow. Hopefully there would be someone who could cover his shift in the morning. As he passes the alley by the club's back entrance there’s a small click. Like metal bubble wrap. He pays no mind and carries on, but the shadows had other plans for him. 

So this is the piece of shit that was trying to steal you away? He stunk worse than the garbage right at his side. C.C wouldn’t let this filth rub his stench over you. He was grateful that the pest came to him, but he still had to pay. The thought of him near you made C.C reach. They all needed to be gotten rid of. They need to stay away.

Stay away.

Stay the fuck away from his Y/n!”

-

C.C stabs the blade of his box cutter into the lid of a letter in hand, skimming over its contents before chucking them onto a pile on the floor.

“Fuck, this is so tedious. I’m almost done, so we can head out soon, Y/n.”

You sit on the edge of the bed beside him, your eyes still red and puff. Quietly, you mumble. “Do.. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

C.C drops his cutter on the bed as he pulls you into a hug. “Of course not, babe. Why would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know why he said all those things to me..”

“He didn’t deserve you, Y/n. There’s no need to get worked up over someone like him, because you have me and I’m gonna take you out on the best night of your life!”

His voice drops down to a whisper, body shuddering as he eyes the box cutter on the bed. “But you know… if you need another way to get that frustration out, I’m always here.” 

[cognitos-handbook]

Ooh ooh hello and hope you’re having an amazing day sweetheart 🖤 Anyway, if it’s okay for you I’d love to see your hcs of the gang listening their s/o’s comfort music with them, especially Andre he’s so precious to me (mine is Lana del Rey if that helps). Thank you so so much!!!

Okay I'm starting this off by saying I absolutely love your user lmfao

And I've been excited to do this one - it's such a sweet prompt ;-;

Hope you're doing great too love <3 Hope you enjoy these!

I also got a little help with Andre's from @nfxtuated when I mentioned this to her ;p

Below the cut! (For space reasons LOL)

Andre

Andre would for sure smoke before and/or while sitting down to join you

Being high sorta helps him to notice more about the songs and such? And he just tends to enjoy it a lot more that way

He definitely gets really into it too, humming along with it even if he doesn't know the song and he's terribly off key lmfao

He closes his eyes and sways side to side with this huge ass grin on his face, giggling and laughing, and if he knows the song he's singing along and dramatically acting some parts out to get a laugh out of you

And oh my god he totally wants to pull you into dancing with him

It's not at all good, and more often than not the two of you end up bumping into each other, but it's hilarious and fun as all hell

Just overall being goofy, having fun with you and enjoying your music, with lots of laughing and teasing and in the end leaves the both of you exhausted beyond belief, but happy and blissed tf out <3he both of you beyond exhausted but happy and blissed tf out <3

Definitely makes it into a regular thing bc the both of you enjoy it so much

And adds some of his favorites to his own list :) He likes how they remind him of you <33

Reagan

With Reagan it'd prolly end up being a bit more of a chill listening session?

Like deciding just to sit and listen to gether in her office while she goes through some papers/research, or maybe back at her place after a long day while yall unwind on the sofa

Just kinda sitting close to each other and (for the most part) quietly listening to whatever you choose, content in spending time with you and sharing in something you enjoy so much yknow??

At some point really does get more into the music though; kinda leaning back and giving it more thought than she was previously? Paying more attention to the beat/lyrics and so forth

If you end up singing/humming along she'll be grinning her ass off lmao

She's a terrible fucking singer, as we all know, but if you encouraged and pushed enough she would join you the best she could!

It's not good, but in a really fun kind of way; not really trying to make it sound great or get things perfect, just vibing and singing ur goddamn lungs out

Definitely would encourage you to come to her and listen with her more in the future, especially if you're just feeling overwhelmed?

May or may not make you a better pair of headphones/earbuds/speakers so you can enjoy yourself more <33

Brett

He's down the instant you mention it!!

This man, as lovely as he is, is honestly so fucking basic; listening mainly to like top 100 songs and doesnt have much variety besides whats popular/well known LOL

So teach him about some more music!! He's excited to see what kind of things you're into!!

Makes sure that you won't be interrupted at all while listening together, if it can be helped; at least for the first time, if not for the many times that surely follow

He knows it's important to you, so it's immediately very important to him too, and he makes sure you know that :)

He's also a big dancer, as we've also seen in the show haha

Starts with him just grinning and tapping his foot along with the music, to eventually getting up to goof and dance around as he gets more into it and the vibe of it

Doesn't matter if you join him or not, he's fuckin grooving and doing his best to make you smile and laugh and whatever possible to make it all the more enjoyable for you <3

(But yes, he would definitely adore if you decided to join him in all his dancing and goofing around)

Asks you to make him a playlist with your favorites, and just songs in general you want him to listen to!

He loves it and definitely ends up listening to it all the time; at some point possibly more than his own playlists lol

Gigi

Gigi’s actually pretty well-versed in music, so she’s one of the more likely to know whatever it may be that you decide to play

She’d love to sit down and listen to your music with you <3 any time you want to she’s down

Probably confines the both of you to her large ass office lol

I have no doubt in my mind either that she’d have some bomb ass speakers to listen through as well; super high quality and you can play as loud as you want (most walls in cognito are pretty sound proof, and its not like anyone’s going to try and complain even if they can hear it - they definitely should know better LOL)

Oh!! I feel like she’d probably offer her office as a safe space to listen to whatever, whenever as well? Doesn’t matter if she’s there or not; you’re her s/o and you’re damn well allowed to use it whenever you please

Keeps your music on file so it’s easy for you to get to <3

Is the type to absentmindedly start humming the songs? Just seems to have the on her mind, especially when she’s thinking of you (which is a lot)

Another who’s happy to goof around with you, if you’d like to, though she’d probably let you take the lead in anything

It's all about you after all <33

Glenn

Comfort music? Oh?

He definitely gets the concept and even probably has his own comfort music (not that he’d admit it in front of the others, at least lol), he just didn’t really have a name or anything to put to it before

He’d listen to your music with you, for sure! He may not be the best at understanding or getting into it, but as long as you like and are enjoying it he doesn’t care

Y’all can just hang out and do whatever it is you really like while listening!

Please teach him some different genres. Give this man some more variation lmfao. Everyone’s so tired of the constant patriotic songs

If you ask him to, he’ll listen to your music choices on his own as well!

He’ll end up finding that they end up becoming his comfort songs in a way as well?? Any time that he gets too riled up anymore, he finds himself going to them! Reminds him of you and when you listen to it together to just relax and chill out

Calms him a lot faster than most other things do, that’s for sure <33

He gets teased for it a lot and starts a lot of fights over it but it’s finnnneee anything for you

Myc

Myc’s prolly pretty nonchalant about it when you ask him to listen with you

Just like sure, why not? He has nothing better to do. and admittedly he’s a little curious as to what you listen to exactly, other than what he’s already heard and knows of

Take a lazy day to listen together :)

Fuck work, it’s more fun to hang out, listen to music with a ton of snacks and talk about whatever and fuck around

Despite how indifferent he was at first, he does end up enjoying it! It’s honestly more fun than he though it’d be

He teases you about your music taste from time to time but that’s just Myc for you <3 It’s honestly just his love language at this point, please try not to take any of it personally lol

Probably wouldn’t be to one to suggest it, but it’d be fun to make it into a monthly or even bi-weekly thing? Just a time to relax and listen to whatever new things you fnd (and occasionally what he finds, for fun and to mix things up a bit!)

He also doesn’t really listen to it much if at all outside of your sessions listening to it together? Almost sees it as a more low-energy bonding thing for the two of you haha <3

[dilucids]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove Letters, Genshin Impact

their reactions to you receiving love letters.

includes: diluc, venti, ningguang and beidou

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ the first one wouldn't bother him at all, he'll simply look over your shoulder, ask you what it was and shrug it off, having trust in your relationship.

━━ if the writer persists, he'll get a little iffy with it and will read it over your shoulder as you do as well.

━━ he'll let the words of this secret admirer sink into his brain, disgusting words that were sickeningly sweet and he swears that it doesn't bother him.

━━ but it does, the way that someone else is also admiring all your traits, or has a note on all your little habits that may not be cute in the eyes of others but is absolutely endearing to him ( and this new person apparently ).

━━ and then he wonders if you're into this type of romantic thing, things that he can't indulge in for you, like sweet letters for you to wake up to every morning that write about you like a passage from 'romeo and juilet', talking about how your beauty makes him undone.

━━ he swears it still doesn't bother him at all when more and more letters come in and kaeya delivers them from the headquarters with that knowing look on his face.

━━ but he gets a little more attentive; he'll watch you do the most boringest of things, he'll use a softer tone when reading to you before bed, he'll give into your scoldings sooner than the usual, he'll make his kisses sweeter and last a little longer, he'll even let you play with his hair and tangle flowers in it; anything to make sure you know that he loves you and all your little quirks just as much as that secret admirer.

"You okay?" You crane your neck back to ask Diluc, who currently had a hold of your waist, pushing his face into the crook of neck. He hums, his paperwork left all over his desk with fresh ink washed over the page, in little underlines, arrows and smaller notes by the side. He had just finished another stack of the seemingly never-ending paperwork, finding little rest with you in his arms.

A knock destroys your delicate mood and you can tell Diluc isn't in the mood to answer to anyone's knock, Kaeya's in particular, judging by the knocking pattern. "You can come in, Kaeya," you call out.

He comes in with the regular pink envelope, "your secret admirer is so dedicated to you," he teases and his eye picks up on the way that Diluc slightly tightens his arms around your waist so he grins. "Don't tease, Kaeya," you warn albeit rather insincerely, as you pick up the envelope placed upon the desk.

"Are you leaving?" You raise an eyebrow, pausing the action of opening the envelope when Kaeya makes no move to leave. He shrugs, finding that the very small rise that he got out of Diluc should be enough until he sees him again and leaves the two of you in silence, closing the door behind him.

Opening the letter, you feel Diluc remove his face from your neck, placing his chin on your shoulder as you open another letter. "What day is it now?" He asks with distaste, seeing the same slanted, upright handwriting on the piece of paper.

"Now, now. It's rather amusing."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ wouldn't bother him, at all.

━━ the first letter would come and he'll find the contents kinda amusing since this person is kinda trash at poems ( i guess when you're venti, any poem compared to yours would be ).

━━ would find it very funny ( would pocket the letter so he could show and do a dramatic reading of it to dvalin later ).

━━ unlike diluc however, he'd jokingly use it to get more affection from you.

━━ so everytime he saw you skimming through the letter uninterested, he'd pout a little, impatiently tap his foot and let out a quiet huff ( maybe even make the wind pick up a little ); anything to make you think that he was jealous so that you'd redirect his attention onto him.

━━ does things like point out grammatical mistakes or rephrases their sentences into a better flowing sentence whilst reading over your shoulder with a jealoused look on his face.

━━ it works, obviously. you end up ditching the letter, always leaving them half read to tend to venti. he denies when you make the claim but has it written all over his face as you remind him that you're all his.

━━ basically, venti malewife, mansplain, manipulate.

Venti peers over your shoulder, leaning on your arm with a small yet obvious pout on his face. You try to ignore his expression as you read the letter, though it becomes harder when he begins to read out passages of the letter, cheesy passages when you were compared to an angel from heaven that was sent down to enlighten the earth, in a high-pitched, mocking voice.

You'd laugh it off, finally peering at Venti's jealous ruse and ditch the letter. "Is my little Archon jealous?" You'd tease him, taking ahold of his cheek to redirect his gaze onto you, you think you're the one in control right now but oh, he's literally had this planned since you've seen your name on the envelope in swirly handwriting and a heart right next to it. Surprisingly, music isn't the only performing arts Venti is good at as he huffs, pushing out his lower lip and never looking you in the eyes.

"I'd never leave you for someone who doesn't know how to spell 'gorgeous', my dear," you wrap your arm around his waist as he was sat on the armrest of your chair and he does nothing but sink into your arms, sliding into your lap so you were carrying him like a baby, his legs thrown over the other armrest and head pressed against you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 NINGGUANG ━━ ECLIPSING STAR 〕

━━ would see it as a challenge. like venti, would be slightly amused when she sees it.

━━ like, someone really thinks they can challenge her for you? L, that person's gonna have a lot on their plate by the end of it.

━━ would take immediate action after the first letter, even if you asked her not to, she'd do it behind your back.

━━ she literally has a floating mansion, i don't think anyone is in the position to challenge or stop her.

━━ would organise a "meeting" with said admirer to establish a few rules and consequences that would be enforced if any of those rules were to be broken.

━━ letters stopped right after the first one.

"This letter is for you," she trails off, handing you a letter that was pink and decorated in little hearts in all different colours. You quirk an eyebrow, planting yourself on her desk as Ningguang watches curiously as you tear open the envelope and unfold the contents. Your eyes scan the letter, injesting the words with a straight face, eyebrows furrowing.

"Is there something wrong?" You hum, turning the letter around to be met with a blank side and check the envelope for the sender again. "Just," you pause, unsure how to start, "do you know who sent this?"

She stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "no, it was placed on my desk when I arrived," taking the letter out of your hand, she scanned the contents. Her lips quirk and eyebrows move in amusement as she brings up her hand to cover her laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 BEIDOU ━━ UNCROWNED QUEEN OF THE OCEAN 〕

━━ would be happy for you.

━━ don't know how but she would somehow be happy for you.

━━ since beidou is used to getting praise from younger members of youth, when she finds you reading a letter of praise, she'll also feel happy for you since you're always reading over her shoulder when she gets one with a pout. ( she thinks you're jealous of her???? )

━━ would literally pat you on the back and say well done with a hearty laugh.

━━ she'd ask to read it and everything, and would find pride in herself that other people could see all the things that she saw in you, like how your imperfections meant nothing, how your habits were the cutest thing ever.

━━ not a single jealous bone in her body when she sees it which is kinda endearing in her own way??

"What 'ave you got there?" Beidou's natural booming voice causes you to jump slightly, making you turn around and hide the letter behind your back as you scratch your cheek, you probably shouldn't show her a love letter from someone else.

"Just a letter," you wave off with a laugh but she's already behind you, with the letter in her hand and eyeing it's contents. You watch nervously as she reads your letter, scared of her reaction but she smiles━━ a full toothy grin where her amazingly white teeth are all on display.

[pedrito-friskito]

the way we were / the way we are - chapter 5 - tell me where your heart is

summary: the star-spangled man with a plan helps you out with a plan of your own.

warnings: nothing but FRIENDSHIP (I love steve okay I just wanna be his friend)

a/n: I literally rewrote this chapter six times when I wrote it originally because my computer kept crashing and it ended up changing EVERYTHING which is kinda wild

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

The first time you see Steve’s show, he’s in New York. You manage to sneak into the auditorium just as the lights dim, and the music starts.

Who’s strong and brave,

Here to save the American way?

The girls are pretty, the outfits sparkling under the lights, and Steve appears on stage, looking uncomfortable and out of place. He wears the same comical outfit he was wearing in the poster, and as the singing stops, he lifts the shield in front of him, clearly reading his lines off the back of it.

“Not all of us can storm a beach, or drive a tank. But there’s still a way all of us can fight.”

He gives the crowd a broad grin, nodding slightly. For a second, you wear his eyes meet yours, but if he recognizes you, it doesn’t show.

Who vows to fight like a man,

For what’s right, night and day?

“Series E Defense Bonds,” Steve continues, reading again. “Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun.”

You still can’t believe the muscled man on stage is your friend. The face you remember is hidden in strong cheekbones and a stronger jawline. He looks healthy – not a stretch, Steve never looked completely healthy on his best day – and the outfit he’s wearing seems to cling to every muscle on his body.

Who will campaign door-to-door for America?

Carry the flag shore to shore for America?

From Hoboken to Spokane,

The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan!

Steve gives the crowd one more dazzling smile, and then disappears off stage. You immediately lurch to your feet and head to the side of the auditorium, praying that the doors you’re bee-lining for will lead you backstage.

Before you can make it through, however, a spectacled man with a clipboard in hand stops you. “Can I help you, miss?”

“I’m a friend,” you say quickly, trying to glance over his shoulder as the door opens, praying to catch a glimpse of Steve. “Of Steve’s. Can you tell him that I’m here? Y/N Barnes. Please, I need to see him.”

The man gives you a condescending smile. “We’re all friends of the Captain, aren’t we? You can wait in the lineup out front, and he’ll be happy to sign a poster for you.”

“Please,” you protest. “Just tell him that I’m here, he’ll want to see me.”

“The line, miss.”

You huff out a breath, turn on your heel, and follow the rest of the crowd out into the foyer. You’re impatient in the lineup, foot tapping and craning your neck to catch a glimpse of Steve. There are still ten or so people in front of you when the man with the clipboard appears again, and Steve is shuffled out of the foyer.

“Steve!” you shout, but your voice gets buried among the rest of the cheers and applause. He turns his head, glances in your direction, but the door swings shut before his eyes meet yours.

+

The second show you see is in Pittsburgh.

It’s a few weeks from the first. According to the posters, Steve was heading down the coast, then back up. The decision to leave was an easy one to make, and you’d packed a bag – including the leather pouch from the back of the safe at the bookstore – and said your goodbyes to Mama and Daddy and Jane. Mama was clearly upset, but Daddy just wished you safe travels and Jane begged you to take her with you.

You’d told Becca your plans, but found you couldn’t bring yourself to face Bucky’s parents.

Then you were on a bus to Pittsburgh. You feel like some kind of fugitive, the vials tucked between your clothes. You don’t know what prompted you to take them, but if everything went how you wanted it to, it would be some time before you returned to Brooklyn.

You sit in the front row this time. The show is the same, the music is the same, the girls wear the same outfits. But Steve is different. He’s more confident, no longer reading off the back of the shield. He doesn’t cower away from the girls like you’d noticed in New York, and his smile is just as dazzling.

The Star-Spangled Man, indeed.

As the show comes to a close, with Steve landing a fake punch to a man dressed as Hitler, the crowd erupts into applause and he turns to flash that grin yet again. This time, his eyes land on you in the front row. The smile falters for a moment, but he catches it, saluting the crowd and disappearing offstage quickly, but not before giving you a quick wink.

You linger in the auditorium this time, looking around, taking in the high ceiling, the hardwood stage, the ornate curtains. You’ve been to a few shows back in New York, on Broadway. You’d dreamed about taking Bucky one day, having date nights at the theatre. That dream seems so far away now, so out of reach.

The same man who had stopped you in New York appears, clutching the same clipboard. “Mrs. Barnes?” he says, and you turn. “Captain Rogers asked me to bring you back to his dressing room.”

You nod once, gather you bag and coat, and follow him through the stage doors. He leads you down a series of endless hallways, all lined with doors. Finally, you come to a stop in front of a door with a white paper star taped to it, Captain America written across it in cursive.

The man disappears down the hallway, and you lift your hand to knock.

“Come in!” Steve yells, and you twist the knob, the door swinging open.

The room inside is sparse, filled with a dressing table and a mirror bordered with lights. There’s a couch along one wall, and a freshly pressed army uniform hangs from a hook beside the mirror, nearly identical to the one Bucky had been wearing before he shipped out.

Steve sits at the table, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stops when he sees your figure in the doorway, and your eyes meet in the mirror. “Mrs. Barnes,” he says with a small smile.

“Captain Rogers,” you return, cursing yourself silently when your voice cracks on his name.

He stands and takes a step towards you. “I saw you in the audience.”

He takes another step, reaching a hand towards you, but you lift your own, stopping him. “I…I need a moment.” Steve just nods, puts both hands behind his back, and waits.

It had been one thing to see him on the posters, but seeing him in person, this close, is another thing entirely. You thought Bucky was broad-shouldered, and his army training had only added to his bulk, but whatever has been done to Steve has made him even bigger than your husband. His biceps are nearly the size of your head, and he now towers over you where you’d once towered over him. Once the shock recedes enough, you close the distance between you and fling your arms around his neck.

“That’s from Bucky,” you mumble into his shoulder, “I’m supposed to be mad at you, but it’s so good to see you.”

He chuckles, low in your ear, and squeezes you softly. “It’s good to see you, too.”

You pull back, hands resting on his upper arms. “I don’t suppose you can tell me how this…happened?”

Steve chuckles again. “I would, but I’m still not completely sure. But it was a chance, a chance to fight, so I took it.”

You blink at him, and it’s like the words flip a switch in your brain. “This is fighting?” you ask, shaking your head and stepping out of his arms. “Punching fake Hitler in the face and signing posters for pretty girls, that’s fighting for your country?”

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “If the department had their way, I’d be stuck in some lab somewhere. I do this a little while longer, and Senator Brandt will give me my own platoon.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Bucky is missing.”

“What?” Steve asks, dropping his hand from his face. “Y/N, he’s on the front lines.”

“His letters stopping coming,” you say. “They were coming like clockwork, one a week at least, and now it’s been nearly two months since I’ve heard from him. Something is wrong.”

He lets out a sigh. “They’re sending me to Italy,” he tells you, “to perform for some men on the front. I can ask, see if anyone knows where he’s gone, but I-”

“I’m coming with you,” you say immediately.

“Y/N, you are not. You know just as much as I do that you have no business looking for him on the battlefield. Bucky would kill me if he found out I brought you with me.”

“I’m coming,” you say again, your voice defiant. “I made vows, Steve. For better or for worse. And he made me a promise. A promise he better damn well keep.”

He reaches up and knocks his knuckle beneath your chin. “Buck’s perfect match, I swear to God.” Steve huffs. “Fine.”

You beam up at him. “I made a promise too, to Bucky. That I would look out for you. And I don’t care how many muscles they packed onto you. I keep my promises.”

+

The next morning, you’re on a plane headed for Italy.

It’s the first time you’ve ever been on a plane, and you immediately decide you don’t like it. Steve keeps telling you to look out the window, trying to point things out to you, but you’re too busy white-knuckling the arms of your chair.

The plane rolls through a giant cloud and the whole machine rumbles, vibrating beneath your feet. You let out a small whimper, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

“Distract me,” you say to Steve finally, swatting at his arm. “Tell me something. Anything.”

“Uh,” he fumbles for a moment. “I have a crush.”

Your eyes flash open, and you swat him again. “What? Who is she?”

He’s blushing, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Peggy Carter.”

“Agent Carter?” you ask, and Steve nods, giving you a strange look. “Dr. Erskine mentioned her.”

Steve just nods. “She works for the department that turned me into…this.” He gestures to his torso. “She’s beautiful, smart, kind.” His mouth quirks up at the corner. “Out of my league.”

You lift a brow. “Out of your league?” you repeat. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re handsome, Steve. You’ve always been handsome. Even before…” You gesture to his torso. “This.”

You spend the rest of the plane ride chatting, and the air settles enough that you fall asleep for a while, you head pillowed on Steve’s big shoulder.

You’re dead to the world by the time the plane lands, and Steve carries you off like you weigh nothing. You rouse a little, held aloft in his arms, but sleep has too great a hold on you.

+

The next morning, you’re taken to a camp about five miles from the front, and Steve addresses a crowd of soldiers who look like they’ve seen better days. Rain pours from the sky, the whole affair dark and dreary compared to the bright lights and plush curtains of his performances back in the States.

“Just stay out of sight,” he’d told you. “If anyone asks, you’re my assistant. Once it’s over, I’ll find Peggy, and we’ll find something for you to do, so no one questions why you’re here.”

You do as he said, staying hidden in the wings of the makeshift stage as Steve does his thing. The men are less than impressed, resorting to launching clods of dirt at him, which Steve blocks with the shield. “Bring back the girls!”

Steve brushes past you, his expression unreadable. “Stay here,” he tells you. “I just need a moment.”

A moment turns into nearly an hour, and you finally give up, exiting the stage wings and going off in search of Steve. You find him beneath a tent, talking to a pretty brunette woman in uniform. Judging ny the blush creeping up the back of his neck, you assume the woman is Agent Peggy Carter.

You make a run for the tent, holding your jacket over your head like an umbrella.

“I finally get everything I wanted,” Steve is saying as you duck beneath the tent, “and I’m wearing tights.” His eyes land on you, and he sighs. “Y/N, I told you to-”

You ignore him, stepping forward and sticking a hand towards the brunette. “Y/N Barnes.”

She takes your hand and shakes it. “Agent Peggy Carter.” She gives you a small smile. “Y/N? Dr. Erskine mentioned you, what brings you to the…”

Peggy trails off, and you all turn as a loud honk echoes through the camp. An ambulance has pulled up to the medical tent, and two men exit the vehicle, carrying a man on a stretcher between them. The man is writhing and moaning in pain, and it makes your stomach twist when you realize he’s missing one leg from the knee down.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve says, and you nod in agreement.

Peggy looks between the two of you, clearing her throat before she speaks. “These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

Your stomach falls into your feet so fast it’s a miracle you don’t throw up right there in the mud.

There’s a look of horror on Steve’s face. “The 107th?” he repeats.

Peggy looks between the two of you, clearly confused. “What?”

“Come on,” Steve says after a beat, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the tent. You’re shaking, feet skidding on the mud as you try and keep up with him.

He pulls you through the door of another tent. The inside is a makeshift office, and an older man with a certain air of authority sits at a desk, pen in hand. His brow is harsh and his eyes are harsher as he lifts his gaze to look at the tent’s intruders.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve says, nodding to the man.

The Colonel huffs. “Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. And what is your plan today?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son,” Phillips says.

“I just need one name,” Steve pleads. “Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

Phillips points a finger at Peggy. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t like.”

“Please, I need to know if he’s alive, sir,” you say, stepping forward. Steve puts a hand on your arm but you brush it off. “Barnes. B-A-R-”

“I can spell,” the Colonel replies briskly. He sighs, glancing down at the papers scattered on the desk, and then pushes himself to his feet. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”

Your knees give out, and you sink to the ground, your stockings instantly wet with mud. You feel a hand on your shoulder, but you can’t tell if it’s Steve or Peggy. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.

“What about the others?” Steve is saying. “Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yes,” Phillips replies. “It’s called winning the war.”

“But if you know where they are, why not at least-”

Phillips cuts him off. “They’re thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that, because you’re a chorus girl.”

Your eyes are wet, and you press the heels of your hands to them.

“I think I understand just fine,” Steve says defiantly.

“Well, then understand it somewhere else,” the Colonel replies. “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes.”

Steve turns on his heel and exits the tent. Peggy helps you to your feet, and your knees are still shaky. She lets you lean some of your weight on her, and the Colonel looks at you.

“For what it’s worth, ma’am, I’m very sorry for your loss.” His gaze flicks from your face to Peggy’s. “If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself.”

Peggy leads you out of the tent, and you both follow Steve’s large footprints towards the tent where he’d gotten ready for the show. There’s a bench along one wall, and Peggy deposits you on it, finding a blanket and draping it around your shoulders.

She crosses the tent to where Steve is rummaging through crates and boxes, pulling out a brown leather jacket and throwing it around himself. You’re surprised the sleeves don’t rip apart from the sheer force of his movements.

You don’t hear most of their conversation, only catching Peggy’s first quip. “What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?”

They talk a few minutes more, and you can see Steve glance over to you every couple seconds. “We’ll take her to London,” he tells Peggy. “Ask Stark to find her something to do while I…”

“Steve,” Peggy says quietly.

He’s in front of you then, reaching out and adjusting the blanket around your shoulders, pulling it tighter and rubbing a hand up and down your arm. “I have to go,” he tells you, “and I know what you’re gonna say. But you have to stay here, Y/N, okay? You’re no use in the line of fire, the last thing I need is you getting hurt. Bucky would never forgive me.”

Despite all the evidence pointing otherwise, you croak out, “He’s not dead, Steve. I just know it.”

He leans up a little and kisses your forehead. “I know. I’m gonna go find him, you hear me? You have to stay here. Peggy will keep an eye on you, Howard too. And I’ll be back before you know it."

You just nod, Steve gets to his feet, and disappears out of the tent.

You feel like a ghost. Your eyes are open but unseeing, everything around you fading to shapes and vague outlines.

Peggy heads out after Steve, and returns sometime later. She helps you to your feet, and leads you through the camp, your bag in her hand. You’re put in a truck, Steve and Peggy in the front and you sprawled in the back seat. The drive is bumpy and makes your head hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

It’s an endless string of words in your mind.

This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.

The truck eventually rolls to a stop. Steve lifts you out of the back, carrying you as easily as he had before. Another voice greets him and Peggy, and you absently think you recognize it.

“She okay?” the voice asks, and it finally clicks in your foggy brain. Howard Stark.

“I think she’s in shock,” Steve says. “I need you to take her to London.”

“You got it, champ,” Howard replies, and Steve’s arms tighten around you a little.

You’re carried up some kind of ramp, and then Steve sets you down again, laying you out on some sort of bench. He straps you to it, adjusting the blanket you’re now wrapped in and pulling the buckles tight.

“Steve,” you mumble out. Your brain is nothing but fog, your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. You can’t still can’t open your eyes. “Tell him that I love him, okay?”

“I will,” he whispers, stroking a hand over your head. “I’ll bring him back to you, how about that?”

“That sounds good,” you murmur, and finally, blessedly, the darkness covers you.

[you-did-well-moon]

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager. 

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt. 

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

 You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes. 

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close. 

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

 Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep. 

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise. 

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

 He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home. 

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager,  getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have. 

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap. 

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

 “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail. 

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while. 

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

 How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

 “I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine. 

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

 He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you. 

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again. 

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

 With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step. 

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest. 

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.  

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

[cassirino]

Prompt : s/o is the ultimate! Singer, however they don't sing often as they're self conscious about how they sound, but their partner hears them sing.

(I'm new to writing hc/ficlets for dr so I'm so sorry if they're ooc at all 🥺)

Kokichi :

• deadass requests you sing careless whisper to him sooo many times as a joke but when you go "ight bet-" he's kinda shook.

• after connecting to the bluetooth you two share in your bedroom, you sing that one verse where it's like, "tonight the music seems so loud-" and he falls for you all over again.

• he's genuinely stunned at how gorgeous your singing voice is, and when you finish your verse he doesn't even realise he's grinning at you.

• "Oma? You there?" You giggle nervously as you gently tap his cheek, and kokichi just laughs.

• the trickster immediately feels bad for laughing when you pout and ask if you were really that bad.

• "noooo! darling you sounded so fucking good oh my lord! not good at singing my ass." he giggles and gives you a smooch. "and i'm not lying this time!" he smiles brightly and you cheer up, hugging him with a thank you.

Rantaro :

• he doesn't want to pressure you to sing, but assured you that, without even hearing your voice, you sounded absolutely wonderful.

• "darling, trust me when I say you are wonderful in every way-" "rantaro-" "and I love you so much-" "RANTARO-"

• will smother you with praise and smooches bc he's a supportive bf

• eventually, you sing for your shared anniversary with your boyfriend as you're getting ready to go on a dinner date with him and his family.

• you almost scream when you feel rantaro hug you tightly; not knowing he was there.

• "see! you can sing - i told you so!" he laughs, kissing your neck and cheek so many times.

• "I really cant, my voice is raspy and-" "HUSH! the only reason is that you didn't prepare your voice, however you still sounded so fucking delicious, I could-" "okay, that's enough of that."

• he holds it above your head the whole night, but you still love him.

Nagito :

• he was half asleep on your couch when you started singing idly whilst working on your homework.

• he honestly feels like he doesn't deserve to hear your voice but is so entranced by your talent.

• "my love, you sound beautiful!" he beams as soon as you go quiet to focus properly.

• jolting with surprise, you turn to him. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake you with all that, you probably don't wanna hear it." you frown.

• nagito shifts into overprotective mode instantly, insisting you are the best singer he's ever heard and assuring you that if you were comfortable with it he'd love to hear you sing more!

• "are you sure?" you pout. "absolutely! your talent is so incredible! i'm surprised trash like me is able to date you, let alone hear you-"

• you shut him up with a kiss and he smiles softly.

Kazuichi :

• he's deadass so shocked to hear you singing from the other room he drops his spanner on his foot.

• running through to where you were cleaning, he (accidentally) scares the life out of you when he yells. "YO YOU SOUND SO FUCKING COOL!"

• you're stunned into silence before he starts praising you and your face burns red.

• "it wasn't that good-" "babe I love you, but, shut the fuck up that was the most impressive note I've ever heard in my life oh my god-"

• this goes on for hours.

• when you're more comfortable with singing in front of him, kazuichi gets a serotonin spike every time you do.

• he'll even duet with you!

Gundham :

• You're singing his animals to sleep, and when the ultimate breeder hears you for himself, he's convinced you're a siren out for his heart despite you already having it.

• "my queen, you sound impeccable." he smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek and your cheeks flush as you deny it.

• "my love, if I wasn't already madly in love with you, I would fall for you all over again."

• this comment silents you as you continue to tend to one of his Dark Divas, a soft smile on your face.

• he gives you another kiss before getting up and continuing with his daily chores.

Chiaki :

• chiaki is so stressed with a certain boss she has to defeat, so instead of getting too angry, she pauses the game and storms off to find you.

• you were sat on the couch, a random cartoon on in the background as you scrolled through your phone.

• chiaki huffed as she plopped down onto you, holding onto you tightly.

• "oh! hello there, softie. what's wrong?" you smile, putting your phone down to hug her back.

• "that boss is ass to fight." she pouted, and you assure her that you believed chiaki could do beat them.

• as your smol gf ranted about the game, you combed your fingers through her hair softly before handing chiaki her switch off the docking station, suggesting she played something else for a while.

• obliging, she opened animal crossing and listened to your heartbeat, slowly winding down.

• "is there anything else i can do to help, sweetheart?" you ask softly, "could you sing?"

• when chiaki looked up at you, you couldn't say no to her puppy dog eyes.

• so, you sang the chorus of her favourite song (which totally isn't no mercy by tlt) , kissing her forehead when she leans into you.

• "you sound so fucking goooood!" she giggles

• once calm, you make two mugs of hot chocolate as she wraps up in a blanket and happily avoids her taxes in animal crossing.

Junko :

• despite already knowing what your voice sounds like, she pretended she didn't.

• she still gives you so many compliments!!!

• she loves you so much that anyone that insults you will be executed 🥰

• she catches you singing to yourself and grins, tiptoeing behind you only to grab your shoulders and yell "boo!"

• you yelp, jumping out of her grip before relaxing as you see your girlfriend's mischievous face.

• you whine about how she scared you, but give her a hug.

• "babyyyy, you sound so fucking beautifullll!"

• like kaz, her praise goes on for so long.

• she likes to pester you, but loves it when you get flustered.

Fuyuhiko :

• you were alone as fuyu was away with work, so whilst cleaning up around the house.

• he had been away for three weeks, but that's just how his work goes.

• sure you're sad and worried, but you trust him and have faith that he's safe.

• idly singing to yourself whilst alone was a habit you had, so, whilst singing the chorus of your favourite song you kept working.

• "fucking hell babe, you should sing for me more often."

• you jump in surprise, but when you turn around to see fuyu leaning against the doorframe grinning at you.

• all embarrassment is lost as you quickly engulf him in a tight hug, giving his cheek plenty of kisses.

• "I missed you so much." "I can tell, fucking hell-"

• you help him with any bruises and scrapes he has, and keep smothering him in love.

• "alright, fucking hell, calm down. I've been away for longer than this calm down!"

• you're just happy your smol bf is home, despite him catching you singing to yourself.