#just imagine a good guitar solo in your head or something. whatever

[houseofwolvess]

ive got one of my dad's guitar solos going through my head and im so mad bc i can't even share it with anyone cos then they'd know who my dad is. which is a problem

[creaturefeaster]

how do you settle on songs to animate to?

I usually find a song that sounds like it'd be fun to animate to-- it depends on what I'm wanting to animate at the time, whether I search for something punchy or silly or intense. I rarely go for anything that's slow and gentle because I dont find it as fun to work with. But that's just my preference.

Then I either listen to it like 100 times on loop and see if my brain can imagine up something cool to enough of the verses to fit the rest of the story I want to tell to it, or I hear a song I've never heard before once and I see the entire thing in my head and I just wing it from there.

Really what I find are the most important elements to a song that can make it fun to create to are:

1) It has a strong beat 3/3rd or 4/4th beat to help with transition of scenes or to give additional impact for movement/visuals,

2) The subject matter/lyrics are either fitting (enough) to the story I want to tell, or vague so that I can do almost anything with it, &

3) It has a good guitar/instrument solo, so I can free-form a cool scene with little to restriction (I can't see the Chickenstab v Gary car chase happening anywhere else but that one goofy guitar solo!)

I don't always get all three with any given song, and I rarely get enough done in a WIP to check off everything I'd want to do with those elements, but... whatever lmao.

That's my process. Really it comes down to how you like to animate. I like action and a lot of movement, so I go for songs that I think work for that.

OH also one more thing... I don't recommend animating to an all-time favorite song of yours. Because you WILL have to listen to it a million times over. I'm lucky I'm the kind of person who can listen to the same song on loop for weeks no interruption, but even then the song can kinda grow stale on you if you have to repeat the same 5 seconds over and over again to watch your animation playback.

[camaro-and-smokes]

Nightmares

Chapter 4: Eddie

Tags for this chapter: Just some light angst See all tags for the full fic on AO3.

Other chapters on tumblr >> / Read on AO3 >>

Moodboard by the wonderful @a-redharlequin 💜

Notes: I can't believe it's been five months since last update 😱 But here it is, finally. More is coming, though hopefully a bit quicker next time 💜

Summary: Billy interrupts Eddie's composing session.

::::::::::

Billy sat down on the couch next to Eddie where he was sitting and strumming chords on his guitar. He pressed his nose into Eddie's hair. “What are you doing here in the dark?” he asked as he inhaled Eddie's scent. “It's zero-dark-thirty.”

Eddie had known from the moment he'd heard Billy's cane gently tapping the wooden floor as he walked into the living room that his composing efforts would halt. So, he smiled and let out a laugh, playing one final chord. “Well, my love, the light of my life, I'm trying to, no, correction, I was trying to compose something,” he said, amused, and sighed, “And you, my dearest, you interrupted me.”

Billy snaked his arm around Eddie's waist and placed his chin on Eddie's shoulder, sighing contently. “Well, I'm sorry. But it's really your fault, you know. You should know better and go to the studio if you want to protect yourself from my uncontrollable and unpredictable urgent need for affection.”

“I know. But I can't create in a vacuum,” Eddie said and glanced at Billy with a crooked smile. “And maybe I don't fully hate those needs of yours.”

“Do I inspire you?” Billy asked quietly.

“You know you do, all the time. And Steve, too.”

“Are you writing another song about pain and death, then?”

Eddie set his guitar on the other end of the couch and turned towards Billy. “No,” he said, raising his arm and wrapping it around Billy's shoulders, allowing Billy to lean on him better. “It’s about the good things in life.”

Billy chuckled lightly. “Doesn't sound very Corroded Coffin to me.”

Eddie placed his other hand on top of Billy's hand that was resting on Eddie's thigh and brushed it absentmindedly. “I've recorded a few songs as a solo project. Just me and the guitar.”

“Oh. What did the guys say to that?”

Eddie raised his gaze to look outside into the garden that bathed in moonlight. “They don't know.” They sat in silence for a good while before Eddie continued. “I didn't want them to know. Not until...” He paused and laced his fingers with Billy's. “The songs, they're just for you and Steve. Personal. And then if...”

Billy interrupted him. “Stop. We agreed on no 'what ifs'.”

Eddie pulled Billy closer and kissed his fingers. “What I'm saying is… that they're yours. You can do then whatever you want with them. Who knows, one day they might even be worth something.”

“You're supposed to think about the future with us, not make plans on how we'd manage when you're gone,” Billy whispered with a breaking voice. “Not yet, at least.”

“I get it. It's just...hard not to think about it. I honestly don't have a lot of hope for the treatment. Sure, Owens thinks it's the best one yet, but it's also kinda a one time thing. It either works or the virus kills me for good.”

Billy was quiet for a while. “Do you remember when you came to my and Steve's place for the first time as my boyfriend?”

Eddie let out a laugh. “Hoo boy do I.”

“Steve was so lost,” Billy chuckled. “He didn't know what to think, even though we had talked it through.”

“Talking the talk, walking the walk….”

“Yeah. But I knew he was going to get over it. When you had left in the morning, he was sitting and smoking on that tiny balcony with that seriously deadly railing. I sat with him and asked him what did he think about it all. He smiled and snorted, told me he knew enough of me not to try and change my mind. Especially when he'd liked what we'd done that night.” Billy smiled at the memory. “I'm glad he came around. I couldn't imagine my life without either of you.”

“Me neither,” Eddie said and leaned his head against Billy's.

Billy must've had a better day with his legs since he shuffled to sit sideways on the couch and folded his other leg in front of him on the couch. His blue eyes pierced Eddie. “That means, Bambi, that I'm not letting you lose hope. I haven't lost it so far and I'm not planning on starting now either. And so shouldn't you. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You could die. Fuck it, we both died once already!”

“Well, I'd prefer not dying for good,” Eddie chuckled, “But I get your point.”

“Good. Because it would seriously suck ass if you died.” Billy lowered his gaze and he swallowed audibly. “I'd miss you like hell.”

Eddie realized that there was only one thing he could say to that, and in a way, it made him feel a little less desperate. That maybe he wasn't as lost a cause as he'd thought himself to be. “Hey, I won't. I hope. I—I mean, not planning on it.” He paused, because saying the words had made it all clearer to him. “You know, I say those things because I just want to keep it real. Not getting my hopes up unreasonably high. Until now, the treatments have been just something to keep the virus at bay. That's been clear from the beginning. This then again...” he trailed off. “This could be the way of getting rid of it for good. It would literally give me my life back.” He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “I could go on a proper tour for once. I could work full time.” He took Billy's hand in his as a tear fell on his cheek before he could wipe it away. “And we could be close without all the precautions. I could be as close to you as I can, for real,” he continued, whispering.

Billy smiled, blushing a little, and squeezed Eddie's hand. “I'd like that.”

Eddie gently lifted Billy's leg off the couch and over his own knee and placed his arm on top of the backrest. He smiled as he looked into Billy's deep blues and savored the way his cheeks reddened as he leaned closer. “You're insufferable sometimes, you know that? Keeping me from moping like that,” Eddie murmured.

“Don't deny it, you love it,” Billy smiled.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Eddie said and leaned in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, “sweet cheeks.”

Billy smirked against Eddie's lips. “Pushing your luck, button eyes.”

There was a rustle in the doorway. “Hey,” Steve said. “I thought I heard some noises.”

Eddie broke the kiss with Billy and looked up over Billy's shoulder at Steve. “Feel free to join us,” he said with a lilt. The light from the corridor lit Steve's face, and Eddie could see his cheeks turning pink. It made a warmness spread in his chest.

“I was, uh, actually planning on talking about something with you, later. But since you're both awake...” Steve started, and then walked into the room and sat on the chair next to the couch. “I've been thinking about how to run things here while it's just me and Billy here.”

Billy leaned his head back, groaning. “Does that have to be talked right now?”

“Eddie is being admitted on Tuesday, and now it's Sunday. And before you get all worked up, I don't understand even myself why I didn't want to talk about it before.”

“Billy, babe, let him say what it is about. Then we can continue,” Eddie said, caressing Billy's cheek with his hand. “What is it?” he then asked Steve.

“So, since Billy might have nightmares over the period you're gone and I need to get to work every day, I thought we could hire someone to help.” Steve turned his gaze to Billy. “What do you think?”

Billy was quiet for a moment. “I hate it,” he finally said quietly.

Eddie tightened his hug on Billy a little. “Steve's right, you know. And it doesn't diminish what you do here in any way. They could drive Steve to work and help with some stuff here at home. Isn't that what you thought, Steve?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don't want a stranger coming here and telling me what to do,” Billy protested.

“Babe, it wouldn't be like that,” Steve said softly. “In fact, then there would be someone for you to boss around.”

Billy sulked. “Where the fuck are you going to get someone I get along with in two days? On a weekend of all times?” he spat.

“I know,” Steve said, taking a deep breath.

“Couldn't Dustin do that? He's been driving you around here and there,” Eddie suggested.

Steve shook his head. “He can't be here all the time, and he's not qualified, you know, helping Billy, managing his medication, all that.”

“Hmm,” Eddie nodded. He gently brushed Billy's legs that were in his lap. “I think I know someone who could help. And you'd get along with him for sure.”

“Who?” Billy snapped.

“El. She's at nursing school, isn't she?”

“Well…I think so,” Steve said. “I suppose she could do some on-the-job learning for her school.” He paused and looked at Billy, knowing that help was a thing he didn't allow easily. “Do you think you could work with her?” he asked.

A smile tucked the corner of Billy's mouth. “She's probably the only one who takes my shit and throws it back at me.”

“And doesn't get her ass kicked for it,” Eddie laughed.

It made Billy punch Eddie's shoulder with his fist gently. “Hey!”

Eddie rubbed his shoulder with his hand, a cheerful glee on his face. “Just stating facts and you know it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep his smile from widening.

“Okay, I can then call her tomorrow. I mean, she doesn't have to be here all the time. She should be fine with that,” Steve said, nodding, and got up. “Okay, I'll leave you two...”

Eddie reached out his hand towards Steve. “Stay. It's my last proper night home, anyway.”

Steve smiled and took Eddie's hand. “Sure. But we should take it to bed, then.”

“We can do it in here,” Billy whined, not wanting to let go of Eddie.

Steve brushed Billy's cheek with his fingers. “Babe, I know. But what if you suddenly can't? It wouldn't be fun. And I want you to have fun. Please.” He paused for a moment. “I'll carry you,” he said softly.

Eddie looked at the couple talking and Steve lifting Billy up. He felt a small pang of sadness in his chest. Those two were his lifeline, his everything. He didn't want to let go of them and his treatment would jeopardise that everything. He had been considering of signing out of the whole experimental program and continuing the way he had so far. But how long would that buy him time in the end? His time was limited anyway. Might as well get on with it now when he was still somewhat strong. If it took his life, then so be it. At least he would leave with his boots on.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

INTERVIEWS ETC 2023

I sometimes talk to people! Going back over the last year, I had some nice conversations with some very cool people. I like doing interviews, but they definitely stress me out a little bit. I suppose it's good to get out of your comfort zone from time to time, though ... So yeah, here are a few of those interviews, in case you missed 'em the first time around.

HEAD VOICE (James Jackson Toth, Ben Chasny, Donovan Quinn)

Donovan Quinn: There’s one aspect of process which is like a user manual. You know, turning on a machine, how you control the bass or whatever. But then there’s a part of process which is more of our terrain, where it’s kind of a story. An artist or a group of artists is interacting with all these elements — each other, gear, inspiration. With each of our pieces in Head Voice, we’re getting little bits of that story.

ILYAS AHMED

With my record, I’ve seen people reference Loren Connors, which is great — I’m a huge fan of Loren Connors. But I’m always comparing it to something like Bill Fay, maybe in an emotional sense. Or like, Neil Young — how do I make “Cortez The Killer” … but not just copy it. One of my favorite Coltrane tunes is “Alabama.” Those eternal favorites you always come back to. How can I make something that feels like that without just doing that, right? I’m not interested in copying it, I’m interested in transmuting it, making it fit into my weird perspective of the world. 

WILL HERMES

As an artist, [Lou] was a “transformer,” and everybody has their own version of who he was. What they want him to be, what aspect of his character they wanted to take in. I tried to show them all. I don’t know if they all morph into a single, intelligible human being. But maybe that is part of what was endlessly fascinating about him. He was all of these things simultaneously and they didn’t all necessarily add up.

M. SAGE

I think it’s radical to have fun. And to be silly. It’s not meant as escapism or denial, but the world is dark and weird. And it keeps getting darker and weirder. It’s radical for an artist to afford an audience joy or pleasure. I mean, I love a lot of that solemn, serious, foreboding electro-acoustic music. There’s incredible stuff, obviously. But I wanted to make something that felt fun. And accessible! That’s radical, too, I think.

HORSE LORDS

Andrew Bernstein: We’re trying to make things that sound interesting to us, first and foremost. But we’re also hoping that the music and the way we operate spurs the listener to think differently. Every act is political, and our decisions might make someone reconsider how they make music or how they go about their lives.

BRENDA SAUTER

“The Obedient Atom” at White Eagle Hall was really special. That was one of the original Willies songs and it never got recorded. It was one of those songs that was always left behind for one reason or another. To finally play it out just felt incredible … and then the fire alarm went off and everyone had to evacuate [laughter]. There’s something about that song! Surreal. The atom wasn’t so obedient that night.

Further reading: Bill Million on the Feelies' live tribute to an Underground legend

GUIDING LIGHT: A TOM VERLAINE APPRECIATION

Alasdair MacLean: I also think of some of Stephan Mallarme’s phrases – “the musician of empty nothingness.” Verlaine seemed to be working in parallel: “Watching the corners turn corners;” “Lightning struck itself.” The language turns in on itself, like the guitar solos. He obviously knew those poets back to front. I imagine lots of other people have tried to do this since, but all of them have made fools of themselves. Verlaine never did.

Further reading: Tom Verlaine - 20 Great Tracks

SPIRAL STAIRS

When we first started talking about rehearsing, I was like, “We’re probably going to be playing the same 20 songs. Let’s just pick another 15 songs that we know we can bust out.” Eventually, we finally came to that point…but then in rehearsals we ended up playing probably like 60 songs [laughs]. I’m like, “Oh my god!” That was just for the two Primavera shows, so it was like “Come on!” It took a while to re-learn all of that stuff. 

[eddiesxangel]

Noisy Neighbours | E.M

Summary: Eddie has no idea what he’s getting into with the two new girls next door.

An: HAPPY PRIDE 🏳️‍🌈 this is my first fic like this so im hoping you’ll like it! Today is my birthday and I wanted to do this as my little gay gift to you! And shout out to @xxbimbobunnyxx for listening to my deranged horny thots throughout writing this 😘💋

Cw: f!reader x f!readers girlfriend x Eddie. Reader and oc gf are bi/pan/ whatever you want them to be. Threesome, oral ( fxf + fxm) fingering, , 69ning, ass play ,p in v.

4.3k words

Eddie felt a surge of frustration and disappointment when he learned about the impending arrival of new neighbours that would be moving in directly beside his apartment. Despite the several vacancies in the building, the landlord, Gerry, opted to place the new tenants next to Eddie. This decision left Eddie contemplating whether Gerry held a personal grudge against him, possibly due to his occasional late-night guitar solos that may have disturbed the peace of the building.

Eddie had grown accustomed to the absence of tantalizing food aromas wafting from his neighbour's kitchen and the absence of music that he imagined others endured. He found solace in the cozy life he had built for himself in apartment 3A. However, the impending arrival of new occupants in 3B threatened to disrupt the tranquillity he had carefully cultivated.

Eddie changed his tune the second he got wind of who his new neighbours would be. When he had seen the moving truck out front through his window, his eyes almost popped out of his head. Eddie watched and waited as one of the hottest girls he’d ever seen get out of the driver's seat; he soon learned her name was Sabrina. He continued to watch, his eyes begging him to blink but he couldn’t move as he watched you hop out. You had giggled at something at what the bombshell blonde said. His jaw hung open, and his tongue almost hit the floor like a cartoon character as he ogled you as well. The set of you sure was a sight for soar eyes. What karma Eddie had was finally coming for him, and he was so grateful.

Eddie felt he had to introduce himself, it was a neighbourly thing to do.

After two days, he worked up the courage to knock on the door of 3B.

“You expecting someone?” Your girlfriend pops her head up curiously. You’re both cuddling on the couch, exhausted from unpacking.

“Nope,” you emphasize the p sound.

She shuffled up and opened the door. “Oh, hello,” you could hear the smirk in her voice, and your morbid curiosity took over, needing to see who stood on the other side.

“H-Hi,” you hear a deep voice. "I'm Eddie.” He sounded hot. You quickly get up off the couch and make your way to where Sabrina stood.

“Who’s this?” You caught sight of the man before you and gave a small smile.

“This is Eddie; he lives next door.” You grab onto your girlfriend’s waist as she speaks.

“Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you.” You smile genuinely.

“Pleasure is all mine.” His eyes scan your body; you’re in tiny sleep shorts and a baby tee with no bra.

“Do you want to come in? I think we have something to drink around here.” Sabrina offers.

“Oh no, I can’t impose, I-uh… just wanted to come to say hi, but another night when you’re settled.” Eddie is trying so hard not to stare at both sets of tits laid out for him. The fabrics of your shirts were so thin he could see each of your nipples. And he can tell the AC is working, to his pleasure.

“Okay, Eddie, it was nice meeting you.” You both smile and shut the door.

The second the door closed, you both gave one another a knowing look. He's hot.

🏳️‍🌈💖💜💙♀️⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖🏳️‍🌈💖💜💙♀️

You run into Eddie sometimes on the elevator, but you still haven’t had time to coordinate a time to have that drink.

Eddie will see you leaving and Sabrina coming, or vice versa. He figured it was a pretty sweet deal for you two to set up, each having your own space but maintaining a good friendship.

You’re both quiet and listen to decent music. At least one of you is seemingly an amazing cook because the food smells delicious each time.

He hasn’t thought much of how touchy the two of you were when he first met you. He was too focused on not getting a stiffy while meeting the both of you for the first time. He scolded himself for turning down Sabrina‘s offer for a drink, but he didn’t think he could conceal the ever-growing issue in his sweats.

It’s been a month since you and your girlfriend, Sabrina, just moved into your new apartment. It wasn’t much to boast about; sure, the wallpaper was ugly-but the rent was cheap, and so far, you haven’t seen any critters crawling around, so that was a huge plus.

You wished your schedules were more aligned, but with Sabrina’s new job and yours, life had gotten a little hectic. You’d hardly seen one another until tonight.

Tonight, you both ensured one another that it was date night. You haven’t had the chance to spend quality time with one another since you moved in, but that changes tonight. You will wine and dine and get that much-needed time together…

Sabrina and you are stumbling over your heels, trying to balance yourselves as you make your way through your front door without trying to break the kiss. It’s hot, it’s needy, and god, you missed her like this.

Her long, soft hair is tangled through your fingers as you pull her into you for more. You don't want to mess it up because she looked so pretty and spent so much time on it but that went to the wayside when she let out a soft moan.

You can feel Sabrina’s emerald green slip dress rub between your fingers as you grip her by the hip. This dress has been teasing you all night, and you can't wait to get it off of her.

Your lipsticks are smudged, but none of that matters because they’ve created a beautiful new pink colour on both of you.

Stumbling through the hallway to your shared bedroom, you land on the bed with a squeal as your girlfriend crawls on top of you.

“Oh, baby!” You let a moan a little louder than usual; you and some cocktails were starting to take effect- not that you needed alcohol to loosen up, but it definitely made you more vocal in the bedroom.

Her perfectly manicured hands trailed up your inner thighs and under your mini skirt, brushing over your bare cunt.

“No panties?” She whispered. “Naughty girl, hiding this from me all night.”

“Baby, please, I want you so bad.”

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll take care of you.” She sinks down, her glossy wet lips make contact with your pussy and you let out a cry of pleasure.

🏳️‍🌈💖💜💙♀️⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖🏳️‍🌈💖💜💙♀️

Just as Eddie is ready to fall asleep, he hears a sharp squeal through the paper-thin walls of his bedroom.

Maybe she saw a spider? He almost called out to see if you're okay, but-

“Oh, baby!”

Ok, maybe not a spider…

A pang of jealousy shoots through Eddie's chest. He wanted to be with the one to be on the other side of his wall. It didn’t matter what roommate it was; he wanted both of you.

Eddie listened and waited to see if he would hear anything more, but it was silent for a few minutes. Maybe Eddie was hearing things?

“Your pretty little clit is so puffy, begging for me to suck on it.”

“Baby, please stop teasing!

Nope, he heard right.

Eddie can’t help his curiosity. He presses his ear up against the wall to listen.

“Yeah, baby, just like that! Such a good girl f’me- OH YES!”

No way this was happening right now? No way he had the two hottest neighbours on the planet, and they were fucking?

"Sabrina!"—"Good girl, y/n say my name.”

Yes. That was 100% what was happening on the other side of the wall.

Both you and your girlfriend’s filthy words and moans fill Eddie's silent room, and he can’t help but touch himself. It was impossible to not be turned on. He can picture the both of you, how one is spread out under the other- Or maybe one of you has their ass in the air and is getting eaten out from behind? Or maybe you’re pussy's are rubbing together?

The sounds mixed with the images Eddie is mustering up in his own head have him whimpering and moaning. No longer aware of the fact that since he can hear you, you can hear him, he gets lost in it as he fucks his fist.

Eddie’s moans fill your bedroom as you’re about to go down in Sabrina. She’s on all fours facing the wall where Eddie’s bed lays on the other side. She quickly crawls up closer to get a better listen.

You follow suit and kneel beside her. “He’s so hot I want him to fuck us,” you pout.

Sabrina turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face, and you can’t help but lean into her touch. She starts twirling a piece of your hair. “Oh, my baby wants that pretty boy next door? I’ll get him for you; good girls always get what they want.”

“I'LL DO IT,” Eddie immediately blurts out, not realizing you don’t know he can hear you.

“What the?” You gasp.

“Eddie?” Sabrina taps on the wall like she knocking on a door.

“Yeah,” he answered, and you giggle.

“You naughty boy, have you been spying on us?” You giggle again.

But there was no answer. You wait a few more seconds before repeating his name, but you’re both startled when you hear a knock on your front door.

You both quickly get off the bed, not bothering to put on clothes and look through the peephole to ensure it’s him.

He stood in the hallway in only his boxers hands in front of his boner, as if that would do any good at hiding it.

Sabrina opens the door and you quickly grab him and pulls him inside before he could say anything and before anyone else could see you.

“Holy shit” his bold brown eyes go wide when he sees the pair of you standing there naked in front of him.

“Did you like listening to us?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he nods his head dumbly.

“I bet you did. You’re so nice and hard.” You both look down at his cock strained against his boxers.

“You wanna play with us, Eddie?” You ask with your voice, which is so silky and sweet. Stepping towards him, your fingers trace their way down his arm moving it from where his hands cup his cock so you can graze it yourself.

“Fuck yeah” he pants.

“Come” Sabrina takes his hand and you take the other and you both lead him to your shared bedroom.

I can’t believe this is happening Eddie thought.

“Better believe it, big boy”

Oh shit, Eddie didn’t think he said that out loud.

Eddie falls on the bed and watches as you and your girlfriend crawl up into the bed and hover over top of him.

“Like two goddamn succubus,” he lets out, and you and Brina can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Your girlfriend looks to you.

You lean in to give her a kiss as Eddie watches from below. His cock still growing by the second; it was like he was watching a live prono.

Nerves suddenly flooded Eddie. What was he allowed to do and not do? Would he get to fuck either of you? Maybe just one? Maybe none? Maybe you’ll only make him watch. Not that he minded, but go, he needed to fuck at least one of you.

“I think we’ve teased Eddie long enough.” She spoke as her hand grazed up Eddie’s cock.

“I’m sure he’s more than ready for us, don’t you think?” you counter.

Eddie lay there propped up on your pillows, too stunned to speak. He didn’t even know where to start. His mouth was getting dry and he did not want to fuck this up.

“What do you?-what can I?” His hands pointed between the two of you.

“You can do whatever you want to use, Eddie.” Brina took a loose tendril of Eddie’s hair and twirled it around her finger like she did with you; all the while, you were starting to remove his checkered boxers from his hips.

“R-really?”

“Tell us what you want, sugar.” She purrs.

“I wa- I want to fuck you both.”

“Oh, tell us more” You plant a kiss on his upper thigh, moving towards his hard cock, which is painfully being neglected.

“I want to watch you fuck each other.”

“Mmmmm, that’s so hot.” Brina moaned before moving down to where you are and taking Eddie’s cock in her light grasp.

You make your way up Eddie’s body by kissing him inch by inch until your lips are latched on Eddie’s neck.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this is happening.” Eddie whimpered.

“Want to taste this pussy, make sure it is real?”

“Please” he sighs.

You hear Brina moan around Eddie’s cock at your words.

It’s been a while since you had a cock in your mouth, and you wished you were the first one who got to go down on him, but the thought of sitting on Eddie’s face while your girl was swallowing him was too hot to pass up.

“Look at these nice big balls; I bet they’re filled with so much cum, just for us,” you hear her moan.

“Fuck me, you’re so hot,” Eddie brushes Sabrina’s hair out of her face.

You turn your body to face her so you can watch while you perch yourself right atop Eddie’s face.

“Yes, yes, come sit on my face,” you feel his big strong hands grip your hips and pull you down so your pussy lips meet his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You laugh as the rough stubble of his face brushes the inside of your thighs.

Eddie wanted to waste no time. He needed to prove to you that choosing him was the right decision, and he needed to prove himself so you guys would let him play again; with much thought, he drags his tongue, moving through your folds to your clit, tasting every inch of you.

A loud moan left your throat as you looked down at your girl smiling up at you.

“He that good, baby?” Brina asks as she begins to jerk Eddie off with her hand.

“Oh yes, baby.” You grind your hips into his mouth, and Eddie smacks your ass before grabbing a handful of it.

“Oh!” You let out an excited squeal.

“Oh, you like a princess?” Eddie mumbled into your pussy.”

“Mmmph, yes, Eddie,” You were already so worked up by the situation you were already about to cum.

“Come on, Eddie, make my girl cum, and we will let you fuck us both.”

That piqued Eddie’s interest as he continued to flick his hot wet tongue over your clit while slowly sticking a finger up your dripping hole.

“Oh fuck!” You fall a little bit forward on your hands, your pussy in Eddie’s face, and your ass up in the air.

"Tastes so fucking good."

“Fuck that’s so hot"

You nod in agreement, unable to form words.

With Eddie's cock so close to your mouth, you can't help yourself but take it in your hand and bring it to your lips.

"fuck me, that is so good," Eddie speaks as your mouth finds his tip and Sabrina licks his balls.

Eddie needed to make you cum now, or else he wouldn't have the chance to fuck either of you if the two of your kept it up like this.

His long, thick fingers worked inside of you, hitting your g spot perfectly.

"Don't stop" You pop off his dick, drool dripping down your chin as your cry out.

"He making you feel good, baby?"

"Yes!" You shake as your orgasm hits you.

Eddie doesn't stop until Sabrina pulls his face away from your pussy.

"Let me taste." She moves his head to face her and kisses Eddie while you collect yourself.

"You taste so good, baby." She pulls away and leans into you, "Want to see?" You nod your head dumbly as she leans in to kiss you, sticking her tongue in your mouth.

Her soft lips pull away, and you whine at the disconnect.

"Wanna show Eddie how we play together?"

"Mmm, yes," you nod enthusiastically.

Quickly, Eddie moves to the end of the bed and steps off so Sabrina can take his place. She lays out for you, legs spread wide, showing you just how turned on she is. Her pink pussy is glistening, just begging for attention.

"Oh, baby, you're so wet for me" You lay down in front of her with your legs propped up to show Eddie your ass.

You slowly kiss up her inner thighs, teasing and biting at her skin until you reach the apex. You kiss around her pussy lips until she's grinding and begging for you to touch her.

"Baby, baby, baby." She begs until you give in. Placing your lips onto her clit and giving it a kiss before you poke your tongue out to finally run it along your girlfriend's sweet pussy.

The view in front of Eddie was enough to make him cum on the spot. He needed to stop stroking himself, or else he would be finishing before he even got started.

He was so tempted to fuck you right now. It would be so easy to slip his cock inside your pussy that was perched on display for him, but he also needed to commit this picture to memory. Nothing would ever let him forget this moment. Watching you go down on your girl and having her cry out from the pleasure you were giving her. Your skills are so good that her hips won't stay still on the bed. You need to hold her down as your fingers enter her weeping pussy. The lewd, wet sounds filled the room, along with Eddie's heavy breaths trying to hold back. His cock was so hard it was edging on the point of pain.

"Fuck I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum." She screamed.

"Fuking cum for her," Eddie growled.

The command was so hot it made you moan into her making her cum instantly.

"Good job, baby," you praised. You crawled back up to kiss her lips, and Eddie couldn't take it anymore. He needed to feel his release.

"Can I?" He looks at the both of you with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

"I think he's been a good boy; he deserves a treat. What do you think?" You ask.

"Oh, he's been a very good boy." She smiles back and moves to get a condom from the drawer.

"You guys just leave those around?" Eddie chuckles in disbeliefe.

"Never know when your hot neighbour will agree to have a threesome." You pull him into a kiss. His lips are so soft and supple that another rush of arousal courses through you as his hands roam your body. He pulls away to kiss down your neck to your breast, taking a perked nipple into his mouth while he grasps the other one in his large hand.

"Her tits are perfect, aren't they?" Sabrina hands Eddie the condom.

Eddie's tongue flicks off your nipple deliciously before he moves to answer.

"Can you fuck us now?"

"Yes!" Eddie said a bit too enthusiastically, but it was endearing.

"How do you want us?"

"Doggy," he points to you, "on top." He points to Brina.

You enthusiastically turn around in anticipation of his thick hard cock stretching out out.

"Fucking perfect." Eddie rolls the condom on, but before he gets to you, he watches as Sabrina makes her way closer to you.

"You know this is her favourite position because she loves a finger up her ass." She smirks, and a rush of arousal flooods your pussy once again. You hear her spit drip from her lips, and a warm wet liquid runs down your ass to your hole before you feel her tongue flick your small hole.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck," Eddie grounded, letting his head fall back, not knowing he could get any more turned on.

"Your turn, big boy"

Eddie walks to the edge of the bed; your pussy is at the perfect height, so he runs his cock up and down your folds collecting all of your slick so he can glide in easily.

You wiggle your ass into him, already cock drunk before it even begins.

"God baby, look how desperate you are for his cock."

You nod in agreeance.

"You just can't help yourself, can you? Greedy girl." your girlfriend leaves an open mouth and kisses you, watching and waiting for Eddie to enter you. She loves watching your pussy open up while taking cock, whether that be real or dildo.

"She is, isn't she" Eddie agrees while kneading your ass as he finally slips his cock into you.

A feral noise leaves your throat as Eddie's cock stretches you out.

Nothing occupied your mind other than how Eddie was making you feel now. His delicious cock, pumped in and out and out, not letting up.

"Fuck right there!"

"I think you found her special spot," Sabrina smirks before taking her fingers in her mouth to wet them. Too consumed to listen to what they were saying, your focus on only the feeling and when it intensifies because Brina's fingers enter your ass, you can't help but cry out again.

"Fuck!"

“Such a good girl. Take that cock, baby.” Sabrina praises as her fingers pump in and out of your ass.

The combination of Eddie's cock and her fingers made you feel so full. Nothing mattered other than how you were feeling.

"More" you cry.

"Oh, she is greedy." Eddie's hips slap into you at a more frivolous pace.

His balls hit your clit with every thrust until, out of nowhere, you feel a vibrator on your clit. She must have gotten it out while getting the condom, but you hadn't noticed or cared because it was just the thing to bring you over the edge.

"I'm going to cum!" you cry.

Not even a minute with the vibrator to your clit, and your pussy was clamping down hard on Eddie. It was like a tidal wave crashed into you; never had you cum this hard before. Your body shakes so hard under their touch that your arms and legs give out, and you collapse face down on the bed.

Mindless giggles leave your lungs as you ride out your high.

"Fuck did we break her?" Eddie looks at Sabrina.

"No, she's more than good. Never had cock that good, though." She smirked, and Eddie shuffled onto his back so she could get ready to be on top of him.

Exiting your daze, you see your girl already mounted on Eddie- and what a sight to see. A tit in his mouth as she bounces on his cock.

"God, that's so hot," you moan, and you sit up.

"Come here, princess," Eddie commands.

You obey and crawl your way over.

"Kiss," he instructs.

You lean into Sabrina, and she willingly takes your open-mouth kiss. Your tongues fight for dominance against one another, your lipgloss and hers are rubbed off, and your lips are swollen with a hint of colour flushed through them.

“Oh fuck I’m going to cum.” She pulls away.

"You're doing such a good job bouncing on his cock, baby," you praise before pressing your lips to hers once again.

“Mmmmm fuck her good; she’s been such a good girl she deserves to cum. Don’t you think Eddie?”

“Yes, she has,” he agrees while giving his ass a slap. “Fuck, you’re just my bunny, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head. You can tell she’s so close, and you want her to experience cuming in Eddie stock just as you did.

“Come on baby, cum in his cock like I know you can.” You slip your hand between where she and Eddie connect to rub her clit, knowing it’s that little extra boost that will send her over the edge.

A loud cry leaves her lungs, and you know she’s cuming and cuming hard.

“Oh, good job, baby.” You purr before leaning in to kiss her neck.

“Fuck!” Eddie screams out, finally letting go as he allows himself release into the condom.

“Oh, Eddie, you did such a good job for us.” You praise sticking his hair out of his face before taking his lips into yours.

Eddie lay there in a daze as you helped Sabrina off his cock.

“Baby, did we break him?” You giggle.

“I think he’s reprogramming his brain,” she laughs.

“Nothing in my life will ever top this moment,” Eddie admits breathlessly.

“Oh yeah, wanna bet?” Sabrina challenged.

“You mean? You wanna do that again?”

“Not now, silly. I don’t think any of us would survive. But who said this has to be a one-time thing?”

“Best neighbours ever,” Eddie fist pumps.

After you all catch your breath, Eddie gets up and finds his boxers to go home.

“Wait, where are you going?" You pout.

“Uh, I thought?” He points to the door.

“Stay. Please?” Brina lifts up the blankets to invite him to sleep between the two of you.

“Really?” His eyes go wide with disbelief.

You both nod your heads enthusiastically.

“It will be like a sleepover!” You clap.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie scrambled back to the bed between you. No one would ever believe him, but he will take everything to his advantage out of this new and exciting situation.

“We really like you, Eddie.” You smile and snuggle into his side.

“I really like you guys, too.” Eddie falls asleep soundly, smiling, and without a care in the world.

Tags: @strangerstilinski @voyeurmunson @espressomunson @littlexdeaths @lokis-army-77 @andvys @taintedcigs

@tlclick73 @penguinsandpotterheads @nailbatanddungeon @hellfiremunsonn @paybacksawitch @jamdoughnutmagician

[mywifeleftme]

84: Yonatan Gat & Gal Lazer // Physical Copy

Physical Copy Yonatan Gat & Gal Lazer 2015, Joyful Noise (Bandcamp)

I have been pretty thoroughly on something each time I’ve seen Yonatan Gat, the Tel Aviv-born guitar matador who has become a cult figure due to his smoldering small combo stage shows. Gat and his typical trio or quartet like to set up in the middle of the venue, upending the usual artist-on-stage, plebes-on-the-floor dichotomy. Multiple times I’ve seen audience members helping hold up a cymbal stand that won’t stay upright, or gaping at Gat’s fretboard from over the guitarist’s shoulder, privileged to be the second head of a virtuoso. Gat’s music is loud, loose, and incantatory, predominantly instrumental punk/psych/passport rock rave-ups, occasionally interrupted by Gat’s drowsily romantic vocal interludes.

The first few times I saw him I was just starting to experiment with MDMA and acid, and I would spend the sets torn between my desire to lose myself in the music, and to write every liquid thought sloshing in my head. As a result, I “watched” a lot of the show through my phone’s notes app, standing next to the band trying to write as improvisationally as they played. I’ve just opened up one of those documents for the first time in years, from a Toronto gig accompanied by the dream trio of Gal Lazer on drums (AKA Gladys Lazer), Sergio Sayeg on bass (AKA Sessa), and Thor Harris on percussion and vibes. What follows are some excerpts from ten pages of very stoned responses, lightly edited for embarrassment.

The drummer’s so close it feels as though I could ghost through his back, talk to his array of golden plates easily as I tell my own hand to close round the throat of a flower, the handle of a watering can.

Check the bassist too, in his immaculate linen suit. When I saw him a year ago he wore the exact same outfit. It’s hard to imagine him ever taking it off— the white cloth just turns translucent as he soaps himself in the shower, becomes opaque again in the tumble-dry that fluffs his hair. White, on that note, seems to have the fashion diktat for the tour, undoubtedly conceived of by the singer under the influence of whatever sun rises in his brain that incinerates embarrassment, and a modicum of choice hash.

I’m one to talk: I’m so high my right buttock is trembling to the music of its own accord.

(If I were as gorgeous as the balding Shireborn playing vibes, I wouldn’t care about the black leather fanny pack marring my aesthetic either.)

The guitarist holds the neck upright, the way you do when a tough part in Guitar Hero hits, but for him, it’s like when you want to talk to someone with your mouth to their ear, while the foot traffic splits unnoticed around you.

Most times this part of the show is just jerking off— do you remember Richie Sambora? He was in Bon Jovi and played like Joe Perry sealed under a film of cellophane, like mushrooms priced to move. That guy jerks off; this deserves the longer word in Latin. There’s a drum solo too and people clap, and for the first time ever, not merely because it’s over. My carrier informs me my new plan has begun, with a whole new block of data to bore through. The singer does his sexy thing in a language made foreign by layers of mystic reverb. He introduces the players in long bars of well-meant fuzz.

"Shireborn" Thor Harris: Perhaps more dwarfkin?

And so on! Anyway, at the show I’d sworn up and down not to buy any merch (was broke!), but as the rolling waves of instant nostalgia about the like ephemerality of experience continued to smash me in the face like a toddler trying to wade into the ocean, I became fixed on the title of this little Steve Albini-produced single: Physical Copy. An answered prayer, something designed to last! Jump-cut to 2023 and I can’t find the fucking thing for this review, so I’m streaming it and still remember everything fine without the tactile reminder. It’s good, but don’t shop on drugs and be careful what you write is I guess the message of this post, oi vey.

84/365

Encore

if my ears are not ringing am I hearing at all? tinnitus is the air thick with angels.

I part their unseen ranks like a curtain of plankton, eardrums resounding to their pitchy carols.

I don’t know if it’s true this tingling is the last time I'll ever hear this sound; if it is, let’s say the tone was burnt up reentering the world from the silence of memory.

[sugar-petals]

Måneskin Reaction :: You Flirt With Them ❤️

# word count. 2k 

♡ note. hello, bisexuals and associates!!! happy pride month. you’ve given so much love to my ‚gettin‘ frisky w/ måneskin' 18+ scenario y’all are amazing. so, i’m back back back again 👀 for more fun stuff, this time with some world-building. enjoy!

TAGS/WARNINGS. ⚠️ ot4 imagines x gn!reader, suggestive, humor, cursing, innuendo, sex toy mention, ass jokes, reader’s dirty mouth, flirting at work, brief violence/alcohol/party drugs mention, almost-accident, damiano’s steamy gnc outfit

read it on ao3

thomas | Things start out in a literal fleeting heartbeat. You’re kind of exhausted from the concert high, but also full of guitar solo-induced adrenaline. Lord knows how you got a ticket for the very front. Afraid to be a little overzealous and attention-grabbing, you still made sure the band did not think the festival crowd was lame. Singing louder than three people at once hopefully makes a difference. So that’s that, and the setlist was great, anyway. Now, the stage is almost entirely empty, people rush to drink water. And: They want to see Metallica playing it up on a different stage. They’re already blasting a Queen song to warm up and gather the audience. Over here, the first row of course doesn’t dissolve that fast. Actually, you’re not mad being stuck here. You’re kind of witnessing staff tidying some cables right in front of you, and your band crush stringing up his guitar in real time. Thomas, who else. Fiddling with his instrument, he’s kind of preoccupied. Man, he’s too cute. You love his tousled hair and cravat. Enter Sandman is playing from the other direction, so more and more people around you start to leave. How you care, you just keep your head turned to the Måneskin stage hoping there’s a chance to interact. But watch what happens next — oh boy.

After Thomas — in full glam gear, that is — rattles down head first from the stage stairs since his heels got caught, but thankfully grabs hold of your arm: Well. Now you do have a chance to chat him up. Sort of like a little meet and greet. Okay, it’s kind of improvised and casual. You saved his neck and those long legs from tangling, he wants to repay you. „Oh— You like my guitar?“ he quips, with his signature sultry bedroom eyes, you know `em. „Hey sure, I can play something for you. I know it’s a bit shabby, but it’s supposed to be like that!“ And he starts plucking away on the fretboard, doing some scales, it all looks pretty impressive. You continue with some banter like hey, it’s supposed to be all chipped-off and rundown. He’s a super sexy rockstar, and practice makes perfect. A used guitar’s a good one. Thomas almost messes up his playing when he hears you call him sexy. „Am I?“ — „Of course! Look at you.“ — „I don’t get that a lot. People call me laid-back or something. You also look really cool.“ Duh, you have Måneskin merch on. Of course you look sick as hell. With the conversation progressing, the two of you sort of trail off backstage, and Thomas asks if you wanna have some licks, too. „Guitar licks or some other licks?“ is what you reply, and he shrugs, looking pretty sheepish right there. „Whatever you choose.“ — „Best of both worlds sounds very good.“

victoria | Dancing up to Victoria at a party feels scarier than it actually turns out to be. Although you’re terrified she’ll reject and flame you, you just give it a try and slowly, very slowly but surely… gyrate those hips in her direction. She smiles at you, she gets on your wavelength, returns the moves. Does she like what you do? Maybe? Is she in the mood? Is she just friendly? Does she laugh because she thinks you look utterly pathetic in front of the queen of the world? She’s Victoria from Måneskin! Hell, you just keep going. You started this, you got your groove on, you can’t chicken out now. The eye contact, it’s everything. That Vic walked up to the party in a hot cowgirl outfit is just too hot to ignore. A drunk and dizzy guy, ill-dressed and foul-mouthed as can be, stumbling in her direction with no seeming breaks on you briefly shove out the way. Not too aggressively, but resolute enough. How dare this smelly fucker interrupt your little mating dance right here. One does not disturb an art performance! Damiano on his best behavior, standing some meters away with his cocktail glass takes care of the rest, cussing the house down like hey you stupid walking can of beer, get out, Victoria is flirting, what’s your problem! Damiano is going absolutely ballistic on this guy, he gets a taste of his own medicine. You’re too infatuated to understand what’s happening, and nobody else cares, anyway. It’s too loud to understand the rest of the verbiage over there.

In the meantime, Vic is buzzing with excitement because her favorite song is suddenly playing at maximum volume. As if it’s a sign from above, you know the lyrics and mouth them. That’s the absolute last straw, baby. „We need to go, we need to go!“ — blink once, Victoria drags you onto the dancefloor without further ado and goes crazy. You’re suddenly wearing her cowgirl hat. So there we are! Everyone knows this lady can headbang, but this is a new level. The beat is pumping like Damiano’s heart when he sees a palette of black eyeshadow. Whatever it is that Victoria’s busting out there, hands going in all directions, you like it. That wild ass moshing almost knocks over people’s drinks in your vicinity. Gladly, a very oblivious Ethan is there to just stand in the way and shield the whole scene with his hunky body-ody-ody, like your personal hired guard. With the entire crowd pushing in all directions and new guests pouring into the room, everything gets tighter and— Well you know. Victoria winds up grinding her ass against you. And not in a shy way. Did you pass away, is this heaven? Did someone slip you an ecstasy pill? This girl is making you go insane by the minute. You never thought Vic would actually reciprocate at all, so… the more you know, and who knows where this might lead, huh.

ethan | Music video filming: Over! Cut! We’re finished. Hustle and bustle everywhere.  The producer is already envisioning millions of clicks, money, stocks — and gets on your nerves talking about `EthaNFTs’. Damiano retreated to write down some song lyrics that he doesn’t want to forget on the fly, Vic is eating a big ole hamburger in a diner next door, and Thomas is recording a kind of tiktok challenge around the corner. You arranged all the props that needed to be placed on the current set, and now put them back again. All done, then. You’re amused how the makeup and styling team took off in five seconds flat. Their favorite restaurant in the area had earlier closing times. But Ethan, taking the longest to pack up his drum kit, is now left to his own devices with changing his lace outfit back to casual. If it is casual at all, he’s 24/7 stylish. The sparkly eyeliner gotta stay on then, he has no clue where the wipes are. Just a minute later, you hear him go through a clothing rack in an adjacent room. Oh Jesus, he’s in there naked. Or in his underwear. Shit, the door is only half-closed. In an attempt to look uninvolved, you try to busy yourself picking up a glass of apple juice from the catering service and almost bump into Thomas doing the same thing, actually leaving for the parked tour bus. Departure in fifteen minutes says the driver, back to the hotel.

You can’t get yourself to actually leave just now. The set still isn’t cleared, right. So you’re just standing there, drinking juice, watching the camera crew discuss something about editing. After Ethan’s done, 90’s rock band tanktop on, guess who looks real grumpy. „Tangled mess,“ he complains under his breath, and you can tell it’s the hair, a beehive of heavy product and knots. You step over and offer your aid. After all, you’re staff, too. Ethan’s always in his own world and takes care of his things: Doesn’t mean he will refuse help. Since he can’t find a proper mirror, Ethan `bird’s nest‘ Torchio is more than okay with you brushing out his hair. Hallelujah, he has his own comb with him. He sits down, scrolls through his phone, you do your thing, making small talk at the same time. It’s actually relaxing. And who has sexier hair. You quiz him about his beauty routine while you’re at it, and he says he really takes his time in the bathtub to really work in the shampoo and conditioner. The hair gets too caught in any sink, and the shower is just boring and not so Italiano. You joke about how he should show you. You realize that would also mean… getting in the tub with him, right. Ethan, no stranger to Freudian slips, smoothes over the situation by saying why not take a camera, have you stand outside the tub and try the routine on him, so it’s gonna be a vlog at the hotel. Harmless new Ethan Insta content idea. Okay: Sounds like a plan. Thank you for doing my hair, let’s go to the bus then he says, and you walk next to each other. You always wanted to get to know him a little better.

damiano | Breakfast at the seaside hotel: The two of you already exchanged some vaguely heated glances. Nobody else was there except you, Damiano, and his sexy garter belts. You happened to be the only people in the hall at 5:45 AM, although it all felt really awkward still. That your designated tables were right next to another really did not help with the odd atmosphere. You were surprised to see him with his guard down, actually, even if his get-up screamed confidence and sexuality. Who dons a waist corset and shoulder harness this early in the morning. Walking up to the buffet where he paced around indecisively, you picked up a sandwich yourself. Right after complimenting Damiano’s all violet fashion choice… and just had to make fun of him when his `aesthetic‘ butt plug accessory chain got caught on the leg of the table. Straight-up having him wobble around on his big ass platform boots like a purple flamingo. He even tries to play it off by making a little booty-shaking dance out of it. Courtesy be damned, it’s too frickin’ early in the morning to censor yourself. And he’s the one walking around like he just visited a Dominatrix. So all you said to him was okay, that’s what happens when you put toys in your ass indeed, can’t even walk straight. Going by his unrestrained and bent-over laughter, Damiano enjoys the joke a little too much. This guy is wheezing his soul out. Ten seconds later, the realization hits. Way to go, he’s just clowned himself in front of a stranger he’s been eyefucking with. But the inappropriate humor… sure does something to him.

Back to eating: Even more awkwardly. You’re kind of laughing it off, too, now. But the story’s not over yet. After dropping a plate of scrambled eggs on his satin skirt and opening a sprite that exploded in his face — and onto your sweater, Damiano’s Italian dignity went down the drain entirely. So hey, screw the rest of breakfast, you both direly needed a change of clothing. On your way up to the rooms, someone desperately apologizes with endless what-can-i-do-for-yous. „Hm… I guess I do,“ Damiano clasps his hands behind his back, sort of kicking his dancey legs side to side to the beat of the catchy elevator music. He just looks down at his skirt and smiles all goofy. Is he shy? You just asked him if he really means it when he sings I’ll do whatever you want. Gotta be bold. And quoting his own crazy lyrics back to him when a fitting moment arises is only fair. Since he seems to mean it, you put some heat in your words. „Then, put that plug back in. There’s kids runnin’ around here, you kinky riot girl wannabe!“ —  „Oh my God, are you bullying me? You just don’t want me to trip!“ — „Hum, maybe.“ You don’t even know why you’re saying all these things, but very well: See you at lunch then in a new skirt, Mister Damiano David.

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© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes. 

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven. 

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless. 

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating. 

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated. 

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it  makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?” 

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances. 

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals. 

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.” 

He huffs a little. 

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead. 

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge. 

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates. 

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well. 

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human. 

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!" 

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes. 

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head. 

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.” 

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now. 

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open. 

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut. 

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.” 

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

[i-cant-sing]

Hi hi! I would like to request on what would yandere platonic Todoroki family react if their kid/sibling love to sing and is pretty good at it! Take your time if you are busy

Yandere Platonic Todoroki Family x singer reader

LMAOOOOOOOOO the images that popped in my mind.

Okay so this isn't very yandere. Beware, this is literally one of the stupidest things I've written, but I had to get this off my chest.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Todorki Family:

You were singing to your self while cleaning up your room, thinking you were alone. And as one does singing while cleaning, you were really into the song and completely pouring your heart out. Only once did you finish singing, you heard clapping. You turned around to see Dabi standing in your doorway, clapping and smiling. "You have a good voice, baby sis. Adorable, really" He said to you, pinching your cheek. You swatted his hands away, mumbling a 'stop it' and 'thanks' under your breath. Just as you were about to return back to cleaning, he suddenly grabbed your hand. "You know what? I have a great idea."he grinned mischievously. You eyed him suspiciously. "Does it involve me getting out of this house?"you asked him. "For a while."he replied, still grinning. You thought for a while. Its been too long since you've been outside anyways. "Alright. Let's go." Dabi's smile widened as he took your hand and dragged you down the stairs of his dad's home. You guys were almost out the door before Shotou stopped you. "Where are you going?"he inquired. "I'm taking her out with me. You wanna join?" Dabi answered for you. Shotou didn't trust the wicked glint in his brother's eyes. Shotou nodded, joining you guys to wherever Dabi was taking you, but not before sending his mom a text that you were with them. She would go crazy worry if she didn't know where you were.

You guys had left in the morning and returned just before dinner. Enji and Rei were getting anxious about where your brothers had taken you for so long. Fuyumi and Natsuo were texting Shotou back and forth about you, but he only told them that they will be returning soon and to "wait to be surprised".

Once you guys came home, Shotou was the first to enter and quell everyone's worries. He told them to sit in the lounge and that he and his siblings have prepared a surprise for them. Once everyone had settled down, Shotou called you and Dabi in. Dabi walked in first, still grinning wickedly, and then you walked in.

The silence was deafening as everyone looked at you.

There you stood, your appearance completely changed. Your hair was coloured jet black like Dabi's, but had streaks of neon green in it. It was pulled into space buns, and half of your hair was down. Your eyes were decorated with green eyeshadow and black kohl liner, eyelashes heavy with mascara, and your lips were coloured jet balck. You were wearing a spiked choker, a black AC/DC shirt, black shorts with fishnet stockings underneath and black laced boots.

You could literally hear crickets.

"(Y/n)? Is- is that you?" Fuyumi was the first to break the silence. "This was Dabi's idea."you pointed at him. Everyone looked at him. Dabi only chuckled, replying "yeah. But wait. The surprise isn't done yet."

"There's more?"Natsuo asked, bewildered.

Dabi ignored him and brought out his electric guitar and speakers. Shotou was handed the triangle instrument. Once everything was set up, Dabi handed you a mic and told you to take position.

You were about to sing "Shook me all night" by AC/DC. You were only doing this because Dabi had promised to take you out more often.

"This is the surprise."Dabi said before he started his guitar solo.

And then your part came. You closed your eyes to avoid further embarrassment.

The song ended with Shotou striking the triangle. Honestly, he was glad to be a part of whatever you're doing, so he pestered Dabi to gave him a little part in the song as well.

When you opened your eyes, you took in the scene in front of you. Natsuo and Fuyumi were filming you, Rei had tears in her eyes and Enji's mouth was slightly agape.

And then everyone started clapping. Rei got up and hugged you, her tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh my....that was so good sweetie! Mommy's super proud of you! You have the voice of a sweet angel!! My baby!!!" Natsuo was next to hug you and high five Dabi. "You're a little rockstar baby sis!" "Your voice is great, but you should sing for us only." Shotou said montonously. Fuyumi had little tears in her eyes as well. "That was really nice, (Y/n). C-can I be a part of your band as well?"she asked, feeling a little bummed out that she was left out. "Uh, yeah sure."

You then looked at Enji, waiting for his reaction. You had figured it out that this was all an elaborate plan of Dabi's to piss Enji off. Dabi changed your appearance and made you sing this song specifically to break whatever "little innocent princess" image of you Enji had in his mind.

Enji stood and walked towards you, his expression as serious as ever. Dabi was biting his lip in anticipation. Is this it, he thought, did he break Enji?

Enji looked at you, blue eyes piercing you. Suddenly, a small smile appeared on his face. His eyes were soft as he spoke. "That was very good, (Y/n). You sang quite nicely. One of my favourite bands as well." He said, before patting your head affectionately. "You should sing more often." He said.

What the fuck? Enji, a traditional and conservative man, likes AC/DC? Dabi thought to himself. His plan produced counterproductive results.

"Oh definitely! We should do this every week! Her voice is great!"Natsuo said. "Yes."Shou nodded. "I'll play the piano! Or I can duet with (Y/n)! We can do that right?"Fuyumi asked. "Lets pick the next song. Maybe one that isn't as obscene as this one. Dabi you should've known better, she's too young to listen to these songs." Natsuo added. Shotou nodded. Fuyumi agreed,"Yeah. And that outfit didn't suit her at all. I've already picked out our next look! A light pink and white theme for all of us! (Y/n) what do you think?"the siblings turned to ask you, but you weren't in the room. Neither were their parents.

Enji and Rei had taken you to your room. Rei was running you a warm bath, while Enji was un-doing you hair. "How long does this dye last?"he asked you, dislike clearly evident on his face at the neon streaks in your hair. "I think a month" you said, as you went to un-pin your hair but he gently swatted your hand. Sighing, you put your hands back in your lap. Rei came back with your pyjamas and took you to your bath. "My sweet angel. Look what they did to your pretty skin and hair. And then making you sing such a vulgar song! Your brothers are nice, but remind me to never let you go out with them again." She said to you, rubbing off your makeup as if it was dirt.

You wanted to remind her that you can still wash yourself. You wanted remind her that this was the first time in 5 months since you had been outside the house. Don't do it though.

You don't want to spend the night in a frozen bathtub, do you?

If you were actually a singer, you best believe Enji would've bought your first 100 albums himself. Rei would attend all your concerts and buy all of your merchandise.

Also imagine, the Todoroki siblings in a band. I think they'll be like Arctic Monkeys or something. What do you guys think?

Requests are open!

[byunbaekby]

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf​ for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 

Shit. 

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 

Your jaw drops. 

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can��t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 

“Kind of.” 

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 

Cocaine. 

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 

“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words. 

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out. 

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (1/2)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on the bootcamp of JATP and have to work together. Will something else happen or they are just friends?

Charlie must have imagined something like this could happen. Since Kenny discovered her 5 years ago, she has been a really close friend to the director, participating in some way or another in almost all his projects.

In front of him after years, Y/N Y/L, his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend. The young actor is not going to admit that he saw every single one of her projects or how moved he was by her in each one of them, many times even thinking of maybe sending her a little message saying the incredible job she did.

But he never found the courage.

It’s weird to remember how he spent most of his life next to the woman, now one of the top youth artists with multiple musicals and movies on her hits list. They always had a strong bond, every single day together. Sleepovers, music classes, dancing classes, homework, parties, movie nights, hockey, illness days, pretty much everything. At the age of 15 they began a very sweet and innocent relationship that ended at 18 when Y/N moved to New York to work in her first leading role.

The break up was on good terms but painful, so painful that both preferred to lose contact completely than to have the other from time to time opening the wound again and again.

And there she was. As beautifil as ever, speaking happily with Kenny while Madison and Owen jump up and down, Jeremy smiles and Charlie looks like he wants to throw up.

“Y/N Y/L, my golden star. She is the official composer of the soundtrack, and she will be supporting you throughout the album process as well as helping Paul and me in other creative aspects, I know she is the same age as some of you but she has a lot of experience in this and all the necessary preparation so don't hesitate to get all the knowledge you can out of her."

Everyone introduces themselves until the guitarist is the only one left, luckily for him, he’s in voice rest these two weeks so he literally cannot speak.

They both look nervous but the moment their eyes meet their complicity comes out and both smile slightly.

“He’s Charlie, he is in voice rest but we are fans of yours. We cried yesterday watching your last musical, it was just brilliant." Owen lets out hardly breathing, Y/N turns with a smile to see the Canadian boy who wants to kill his friend and then commit suicide.

“Thank you! This is going to be such an interesting experience.” The singer murmurs as she winks at Charlie.

2 hours later they had both been avoiding each other, Y/N writing in a corner while the band and Kenny discuss costumes with Soyon, in which at least half an hour has been wasted trying to understand what Charlie is trying to say with the few words he writes with an apple pencil on his ipad in his horrible handwritting.

Y/N gets frustrated and goes to where they are, approaching behind Charlie's shoulder to see the iPad. She quickly identifies the two words, one so crossed out that it looks like a doodle, but years copying each other's homework pays off.

"He's trying to say that if Luke isn't going to wear bandanas, at least consider wearing beanies." The young woman says as she leans on the shoulder of who was her first love.

Charlie freezes at their proximity, blushing a little at the feeling of being close after so long. Luckily his castmates don't realize it because all their attention is on her.

“You are just good for everything huh? Even deciphering hieroglyphs." Owen comments, smiling at her and winking exaggeratedly to make her laugh.

Charlie can't help but feel insecure with the situation. It could be a friendly thing but If Owen really tries to flirt with her, he doesn't know how he would react. Is sad enough not having her in his life anymore, having her as his best friend's girlfriend would just be too painful.

Now, he knows he’s exaggerating, and a lot. But he has to do something about it. Better safe than sorry.

He stretches his neck to meet the eyes of his ex-girlfriend, who is now only inches away. She quickly gets flustered, but hides it pretty well. The problem is that he knows every gesture perfectly and sees through her mask.

“Wh- What, Gillespie?” She manages to say, Charlie can’t help a smile seeing the way she still reacts towards him.

When you know a person completely, every facet, every gesture, every peculiarity, speaking without words is as natural as breathing. And they had both forgotten how amazing it feels to have someone in your life who is this compatible and magnetic.

They start a conversation, she answers to who secretly still believes as her person while he continues making gestures and mimics that no one else understands, writing a word from time to time to make the talk flow better.

"I know. Hey, it's not my fault! So you excuse yourself with the ‘can't talk’ thing huh? how convenient. Yeah, Ok, I will. I said I will!" Her words are the only thing that they manage to get out of the conversation that the secret ex-couple is having, since no matter how much attention they pay to him, they have no idea how Y/N manages to decipher it.

"I have no idea what's going on but I'll take it as a miracle, I was just going to suggest ignoring Charlie these 2 weeks." Jeremy jokes, everyone nods their heads.

“I mean, it’s still a good option.” Madison replies.

The 14 days go by quickly, and with the former couple spending time together daily, rehearsing Charlie's guitar solos together, with Y/N translating his horrible scribbles, or sometimes simply being close to each other enjoying the company, absentmindedly placing their hand on the other's leg or their forehead on their shoulder for a few seconds during the breaks.

Basically the whole team has noticed the flirtatious smiles and the looks, but Charlie was the weakest rival of both and the one who could release some information about it, and without being able to speak they basically ran out of an informant, since the young singer didn’t let go a word about her unexpected chemistry with the guitarist except the typical ‘we are just good friends’.

But without a doubt the energies began to multiply on Monday when Charlie arrived with the green light to be able to speak and start singing in rehearsals. Madison couldn't attend the first few hours because she was at school, so Y/N was going to cover her so the boys could practice.

“The first on the list is Finally Free, the place where we are going to record it only gave us two weeks from now so it will have to be one of the priorities. For the first rehearsal just vibe with the song and we’ll discover where to go from there. Oh, and good luck keeping up with my golden star, you’ll need it."

Y/N starts the first verse on the keyboard, and gets up to sing the chorus in the center, trying to ignore Charlie and looking up at Jeremy. She hadn’t heard him sing for a couple of years, but the same butterflies appear in her stomach and she knows that she will melt if she looks into his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Kenny doesn't have the same plan, and just before the second verse ends he tells her to walk over to Charlie, who immediately smiles and sings the pre-chorus with much more enthusiasm. The energy they radiate floods the place, both getting closer and closer. By the time the bridge arrives, their foreheads are practically against each other, their lips only an inch apart, and with a confidence and comfort while singing to each other that makes all those who suspected that there was something between them now practically sure.

Luckily there are only Jeremy, Kenny, Owen and Paul in the room, who decide to play a game of divide and conquer now that the snitch part of the equation can speak.

“Y/N, can you come with me for a moment? I have a new idea for ‘Wow’ and a fresh pair of eyes is just what I need.” Paul says, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.” The singer takes the opportunity to leave this staring game with Charlie and quickly walks away from the guitarist, who winks at her in a flirting way in response.

The moment they walk out the door, everyone turns to see Charlie, who has no idea what they're up to.

“What?”

"After what just happened you just can't keep pretending nothing's happening. Man, that was more intense than the whole Troyella moments during all three movies." Kenny pretends to be offended for a second and then nods.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years of career."

“Yeah dude it was electric.” Owen replies, smirking.

“She’s my person.” Charlie mumbles.

If he’s being honest with himself, deep down he always knew she was the only one for him. But that realization was freaking scary. What's next if the only person for you has already turned the page? gave up without a fight? what's left?

"What?" The three ask in unison, and Charles begins to sing like a bird.

“We grew up together and then we lost the way. Like in those romantic movies where just everyone knows they belong together except the childhood best friends and then they end up ruining their lives by being in denial.”

“From what I saw getting back on track shouldn't be too difficult, Charlie. I assure you that whatever you feel she feels it too. Her eyes don’t lie." Jeremy tries to reason with him.

“Leave your teen problems behind. You are old enough to decide what you want and find a way to make it work. But you have to stop pretending that nothing is happening first." Owen scolds his friend.

“Do you love her?” Jer asks.

“That answer is always going to be yes, I just could never stop loving her even If I tried. And I did.” He really did. The surprise he got when the second he had her close to him his heart began to beat like crazy and all he wanted was to hug her and fix everything. It was as if when seeing her eyes time hadn’t passed, as if only the day before they’d been goofing around together. That bond is so big that he doesn’t believe it’s possible to break.

“Then do something about it, bro! Go get your girl back!” Jeremy advises while Kenny smiles.

“Yeah man, it’s ‘Now or never’ like her song, and I guess ours too now? Since she wrote it for Sunset Curve? Well, anyway, it’s like our song says.” Owen exclaims excitedly.

“Ohhh, musical inspiration, let me try. ‘Get up, get out, relight that spark’.” Jeremy sings to Charlie.

“Jer, you are a genius. If you think about it wake up is actually a pretty good soundtrack song for this situation. ‘It's not what you lost, It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain’.”

They both keep singing the song until they reach the bridge, Charlie tries to look frustrated but a slight smile escapes his face.

They are right, he still hasn't lost this fight.

👻PART 2 RIGHT HERE

[firetextskpop]

Omg poly OT23 ofc no sexual stuff for jisung or chenle,but like imagine poly ot23 just babying y/n oml🥺

I love the idea of this sm, I’m sorry it took so long to write it. ♥ I’m going to break it down to days of the week and how they’re typically spent with the boys. I'll make it a multipart series.

 Monday

Mondays were the days you woke up in the Dream Dorms. Often you found yourself in bed with Jaemin, his arms wrapped around you as he scrolled through a food delivery service. “Good morning” you mumbled and cuddled deeper into his side. “Good Morning love, what are you feeling for food?” He asked and rubbed your shoulder. You groaned for a bit before telling him your preference. Jaemin nodded and ordered food for the entire dorm. The both of you shared the dreams you had and discussed them until there was a knock on the door. “You guys up yet?” Renjun asked cautiously cracking open the door. Once he sees the both of you laying in bed with your eyes open, he smiles and properly greets you. The younger of the two informs the elder that food is being delivered. Junnie acknowledges him and tells you both that Chenle arrived. Quickly the two of you get out of bed and throw on a T-shirt to greet your other boyfriend. Once the two of you make it to the living room, Renjun has his arm around Chenle, and Jeno is cuddled against Jisung. "Good morning my loves! " You say rushing to sit on Chenle's lap and hold him close. He chuckles and the 3 males you haven't yet spoken to bid you a good morning. Jaemin went to cuddle with Jeno and Jisung. To your luck, Chenle brought Daegal, who also clung to you. As everyone talked and discussed their plans, the food arrived. You thanked the delivery man and sat next to your youngest boyfriend. "So yeah Y/N, We're going to go to the park then grabbing some food. Wanna come?" Jeno asked putting his hand on your knee. "Of course." You agreed, ruffling his hair. Once everyone finished eating, you and Renjun went into the kitchen to wash the dishes remaining. He washed, you dried. After all of the dishes were finished, Renjun loved giving you kisses all over and little praises to make your day just a little better. Jisung walks in and gags a bit at how you two can be like this any and everywhere. You rolled your eyes at the tall boy and go back into Jaemin's room to find some cute clothes to wear. After preparing for your 3-way date, you meet the boys in the living room again. "Since you won't give me the love out there, can I get my hugs and smooches in here?" You ask looking at Jisung. He nervously chuckled and nodded. Your arms wrap around him tightly and he kisses your forehead. He leans down a bit for you to kiss his cheek and nose and then you break the hug. Jeno pouted a bit before mumbling about not getting his affection. "Well you'll love me in public but Sungie is a bit shyer." The pout still stood on Jenos face. You went over to Jeno and kissed him, held his hand and the three of you went to the park. At the Park, Jisung rode a skateboard while eating his ice cream, and you and Jeno followed him by walking while still holding hands. After a few hours of the three of you being active, you all sat on the bench, and you cuddled against Jeno. He scrolled through the NCT/WayV group texts, which contained lots of memes, plans, and scheduling. You looked at the texts with him, then looked over at Jisung. The mentioned boy was thoroughly enjoying the scenery around him. With the people busy, the wind blowing against the trees and your skin, and quiet nature sounds, he truly felt at peace. Being here with people he loved just made it all the better. You reached out a hand to put on his and he looked at you and smiled. Before you knew it, Jeno's phone rang and it was Haechan asking when you 3 will be home. A brief discussion happened that ended on agreeing to go back at that time. On the way back, you held Jisung's hand in the car and told both of your boyfriends how much you appreciated the time together and that you loved them. They smiled and reassured you that the love was reciprocated. As soon as you got to their dorm, Mark and Haechan were sitting on the couch while bickering. It wasn't over anything serious, just a little teasing. "Hey, big head!" You mess with Haechan. He turns to you and throws a pillow at you. "Your head is way bigger than mine," Channie stated. "Whatever," You joked and

messed up his hair, now sitting between him and Mark. The boys talked to each other about upcoming scheduling to make sure everyone was prepared and aware. Mark rubbed his hand against your arm to warm you a bit. "The boys at the 127 dorms are excited to see you." He says loud enough for you only to hear. "Really?" You responded happily. Lately, 127 have had promotions which just finished. The promotions made it a bit harder for you to spend as much time as you'd like but never impossible. Mark nodded and checked his phone. "Our ride is here, you two ready?" You and Haechan nod and say your goodbyes to the Dreamies. The car ride to the 127 dorms was comforting, Mark flirted with both you and Haechan which made you blush. Once you arrived at the dorms, everyone actually still was quite busy. Jaehyun, Johnny, and Jungwoo all went to the gym, Doyoung, Taeyong, and Yuta all went to grab a bite of food and maybe even a drink, and Taeil went straight to sleep after returning home. Leaving you, Mark, and Haechan to your own. The younger of the two played on his switch as you cuddled against him in Mark's bed. Mark played his guitar while writing a new rap for his upcoming mixtape/solo release. Slowly you began falling asleep but when Haechan failed something in his game, you woke up a bit. You checked your phone to see that the boys who went to the gym had returned and began to get up. "I think I'm gonna sleep in Jae and Jungwoo's room tonight." The two youngest members nodded. "Alright, I think I'll go back to my room too. Johnny gives the best cuddles." Haechan said and looked at Mark. "Wait but you told me I did this morning." The 99 liner said a bit upset. "Did I? Well it's Johnny, he's like a big teddy bear an-" The older of the two could now see that the younger was messing with him and threw a stuffed animal at him before they began bickering again. You chuckled a bit to yourself before heading to Woo and Jae's room. When you open the door, you're surprised to find Jaehyun alone in bed. Judging by the fresh smell, headband, and him being in sweatpants only, you concluded that he just got out of the shower not too long ago. "Hey babe," He greeted you with a smile. "Hey, where's Woo?" You asked getting in bed with him. He wrapped his arm around you and put his face into your neck. "He decided to join Johnny for a bit." A hum of acknowledgment left your mouth as you got comfortable. Both of you drifted into a sleep while talking about your days.

[conniespringerblkwife]

Drummer Boy

(Connie Springer x Female Reader | NSFW)

A/N: So i was using the bathroom and then BOOM Connie fic idea. In conclusion, using the bathroom=best ideas.

Also I wrote this awhile back and since it’s Connie’s bday today, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to post it.

Warnings: Connie with eyeliner, Smut: Fingering, rough sex, and Connie grabbing the headboard

Summary: Y/N and her childhood best friend, Connie grew apart when once they began college. Three years later, Connie sees Y/N practicing and his feelings return for her.

*2,785 words*

Songs I listened to while writing:

Bubblegum Bitch by Marina and the Diamonds

Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) by Halestorm [Cover]

You and Connie used to be close friends since you were three all the way up to college.

Even though you two were best friends, you were polar opposites. He was an extrovert and you enjoyed quiet time by yourself. You had straight As, and Connie on the other hand, struggled in school. A D was an A to him. And although Connie was more popular than you, there was always one thing that brought you two together. Music.

Music has always been something you two can bond over. You played the violin and he played the drums. Even though you two enjoyed different genres of music, you understood each other's passion. Connie always wanted to play in a band and you always wanted to travel with a big orchestra and be first chair. You two understood each other's motives and worked hard everyday.

When you two started to grow up, you guys made a promise to never forget about each other when you two become famous. But that promise was broken, when you went to college. You and Connie both attended the same university, but became distant as you two joined different groups. You guys didn't realize the relationship died, it just gradually happened.

You both were caught up in different careers and lost time for each other.

You two met again, while you were practicing your solo, for an upcoming concert. You didn't realize anyone walked in until you heard the sound of clapping and a voice. "Wow!"

Your eyes adjusted to the figure below and you realized it was Connie. "That was amazing Y/n, you really have grown." He flashed a smile and you gave him a small one in return.

"Thanks Connie." You started to place your instrument in the case.

"How you've been?" He asked softly.

"Fine. And you?" You turned around to make eye contact with him.

"Good." You two stood in awkward silence. It's been so long since you two interacted with each other. You didn't know what to say. You guys haven't talked since freshman year of college, you're a senior now.

"Well, I'll go now." You gave him another small smile and proceeded. As you were heading out, you heard him call out your name.

"Wait Y/N!" You turned around and saw him jogging towards you. "Come to my gig tomorrow night."

"I don't know, I think I have practice tomorrow."

"Well if you don't." He pulled out a folded piece of paper out his pocket and handed it to you. "You're always welcomed." You studied the flyer and saw at the top, "10 pm: Riot of the Red Heart will be performing, 'There's a Hole in My Stomach.'"

"I'll see." You smiled and left the building.

*

You plopped on the bed and studied the flyer. "Riot of the Red Heart," you said to yourself. You decided to look them up and was amazed how popular they were on campus. You noticed they had an Instagram and clicked on their page. There were three members: Connie, a girl and a guy. The guy hair was pretty long and he had a beard, and also played guitar. The girl, you assumed was the main singer, had light brown hair and in her right hand was a potato.

As you continued to scroll through their page, you took note how happy Connie looked. Something in your heart twisted as memories came back, but you suppressed them and told yourself that you were happy that he was happy.

Unlike Connie, you didn't make any close friends during your four years of college. You had one friend named Mikasa and that was because she was your stand partner in orchestra, but outside of practice, you two never talked and if you did, it was only about what time practice was.

You put your phone on the charger and placed the flyer on the nightstand next to you, heading off to bed.

*

The next day you found out you didn't have practice and a part of you was happy that you could have a break. You decided to head back to your dorm and take a nap. It was rare for you to go a day without practicing, but you deserved it. You've practiced so much that your shoulders hurt more than usual. You would always forget to do stretches before and after practicing and would have to suffer the consequences because of that. As you drifted off to sleep you thought about Connie and wondered what he was doing right now.

*

"You guys excited for the night?!" Connie said wrapping his arms around Jean and Sasha's shoulders.

"Yep!" Sasha exclaimed, "Also after our performance can we go out to eat? I was thinking about that steak house down the street."

"Do you wanna go there because you've been crushing on that waiter?" Jean teased.

"What's his name?" Connie scratched his head and then smirked, "Niccolo?"

Sasha elbowed Connie in the side and walked off, " That's not true, I just liked the food there." Sasha crossed her arms while staring at the pavement trying to hide her embarrassment. "

"Mhmm, whatever you say." Jean remarked.

"Oh guys I invited someone." Connie spoke up.

"OOO who??" Sasha said.

"Her name's Y/n, she's a childhood friend." Connie rubbed the top of his head. "I want you guys to meet her."

"Oh she must be really special," Jean teased Connie.

"Yeah she is actually."

"Well I cant wait to meet her." Sasha said while throwing her arm around Connie's shoulders. Ever since Connie saw you yesterday, he couldn't get you out of his head. Connie used to have crush on you from middle school all the way to high school, but it left as you two grew apart. But those feeling returned when he saw you playing.

He didn't say anything that day when he entered the building and saw you practicing. He just stared in awe as you engrossed yourself in the music. Although you music was placed in front of you, your eyes were closed. It made him think how hard you have been working that you didn't even need to look at the music. He hoped you come tonight because he really missed you, and wanted to start over with you and possible relationship.

*

When you woke up , you saw that it was 9:00 pm. Your eyes then traveled to the flyer next to your clock. Connie's performance started in an hour. "I guess I could go." You said to yourself as you got ready.

You threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and fixed your hair before grabbing your purse.

Connie's band was performing at a small place called, The Corps Club.

When you entered the club, there were a lot of people, but it was pretty calm. Everyone was genuinely having a good time and you cursed yourself for not bringing Mikasa with you. You felt awkward as you sat at the bar fiddling with your purse, hoping to see Connie.

"Can I get you something?" A bartender said while cleaning a cup.

"Just a lemonade please, thank you." You were so focused on watching the bartender pour your drink you didn't even notice the presence beside you.

"Y/N Hey!" It was Connie. You took in his appearance and noticed he had on black eyeliner and wore a gray shirt that no sleeves along, a sliver necklace around his neck, and a chain that hooked to his pants. "I wasn't expecting you to come." He leaned on the table, "Hey Levi I'll pay for it."

"Oh no Connie that's okay." You protested but the man already took the money. "Thank you." You said softly while taking a sip of your drink.

"Thanks for coming y/n, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Connie then grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowds of people. "I want you to meet my friends." He shouted and lead you through a door. "Guys I want you to meet y/n."

You seen them before, but it was different seeing them in person. "Y/N this is Sasha and Jean."

"It's so nice to meet you!" Sasha said and then pulled you into a hug. "Any special friend of Connie's is ours too. You want some chips?"

"No thanks," You said, your face heating up slightly at the thought of Connie talking about you to his friends.

"I'm Jean." He said as he held out his hand. You didn't imagine him to be so tall you thought as you shook his hand. "Connie you didn't tell us your friend was hot." Your eyes widened at his words.

"Jean please shut up you're making her uncomfortable." Connie said while hitting the back of his head.

"Anyways y/n, we're performing a song called There's a Hole in My Stomach. It's about a guy and girl who are twin flames, but the girl gets shot in her stomach and the boy basically loses another piece of himself." Your mouth opens slightly at the sad, but oddly specific, story behind the song. "I know right depressing, but it was Connie's idea." Sasha continued.

"We have five minutes 'till we perform...Y/N I'll show you a good spot to watch us." Connie said while grabbing your arm. He led you to the front row, "This seems like a good spot." He then pulled you into a hug and you felt your heart beat quicken. "Thank you y/n," he whispered into your ear. He pulled away and ran off, leaving you stunned.

You were blown away how good Connie's band was. Although the topic of their song was depressing, they played as if it wasn't. The three complemented each other so well. Sasha's voice was also beautiful and powerful. Jean played the guitar with a smirk plastered on his face as he rocked his head back and forth (let me stop before i turn this into a jean fic).

You then looked over to Connie and saw how intense he was as he hit the drums. It was like he was different person. You seen him play the drums before in high school, but that was nothing compared to now. His muscles flexed as he drummed. You thought he looked sexy, especially with the sweat gliding down his face and his eye liner starting to smudge. As if he heard your thoughts, Connie made eye contact with you and winked and quickly looked away.

After the performance you met up with the three and congratulated them. "You guys did amazing and Sasha your voice is so beautiful."

"Thank you." She said while wiping the sweat off her forehead. They all were sweating and you saw how Connie's eyeliner was now smeared across his eyes. "Are you coming with us to eat?"

"Oh no, it's late, I need to get back to my dorm."

'Are you sure Y/N?" Connie said while patting his neck with a towel.

"Yeah..Thank you."

"Well let me walk you back since it's late." He said while throwing his towel on the couch.

"Bye y/n!" Jean and Sasha said as you and Connie headed out.

The walk back to your dorm was silent until Connie said, "Thank you for coming. I'm so happy to see you again."

You smiled, "Of course Connie."

"It's been a long time since we seen each other." You hummed in agreement. "I missed you so much y/n" Connie stopped walking and stared into your eyes.

"I missed you too." There was tension between you two and you didn't know why, but you continued walking anyway.

You two were now in front of your dorm's door. "Thank you for inviting me Connie. Good night." As you were going to open your door Connie then said, "Y/n wait." You turned around in confusion.

"I want to start over."

"What?"

"I really missed you. Like a lot." You nodded your head, confused to where he was going with this. "Fuck it." He then pulled you by your waist and pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden actions. You knew you should've pulled away but you couldn't.

You two were now in your dorm and you made out with each other as you straddled his waist at the edge of your bed. His tongue explored your mouth as he rubbed and squeezed your thighs.

Wanting more friction, you decided to rock against him and he groaned in your mouth. "Keep doing that." He said against your lips as he slid his hands under your sweatshirt to unstrap your bra. You were still in shock that you were making out with your old best friend, but that thought left when you felt his big hands cup your breasts and his thumbs circle your nipples.

He pinched and twisted your nipples as his mouth traveled from your cheek to your neck to suck on the skin.

You ran your hands through his hair and noticed that it was longer than last time you remembered. You giggled as a memory of you calling Connie a bald penguin popped up in your mind.

He then took your sweatshirt off and stared at your breast and then he squeezed your hips, urging you to keep grinding on him. "Stop staring."You whispered in embarrassment. He then attached his mouth to your nipple and you gasped at the wet feeling. His hands traveled your body up and down, his hands rubbing your curves and then cupping your ass as you continued rocking against him.

Your panties were wet and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you where you most needed it. He didn't notice you unbuttoned your pants until you grabbed his hand and slid it down to cupped you down there. He felt how warm and wet you were and began caressing you gently through your underwear.

He then pulled your panties to the side and rubbed a finger up and down your folds before placing his middle finger inside of you. You hid your face in his neck as you rocked against him while he placed another finger inside of you. He rubbed his other hand up and down your back to ease you. "You're so beautiful," he said softly before placing a third finger inside of you.

"Connie" You moaned his name and that's when he lost it. He pulled his fingers out of you and laid you on your back. He shoved your pants and underwear down while he peppered kisses on your neck. You kicked the remaining clothing off your legs and pulled his shirt off while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You two were now fully naked as Connie teased your folds with his penis. You bit your lip in anticipation. "Connie pl-" before you could finish he pushed himself inside of you and you clawed at his back as he stretched you out. He moved slowly first and you watched as his chain dangled in front of your face. You took that opportunity to grabbed him by his chain and pull him into a kiss.

He started to pick up his pace and you had to hold onto his shoulders for support. "So fucking tight." He said as he watched how you took him so well. When he felt you loosen up, he took the opportunity to lift your legs over his shoulder and pound into you. This new angle had you gasping for air as his hips snap against the back of your thighs.

His hand was gripping the headboard to go faster and his other hand also had a death hold grip on your waist, you knew there will be a bruise there tomorrow but you didn't mind. The more you said his name, the faster he would go.

He slowed down a bit when he felt your walls clench around him. You were close and he had to control himself because he wanted to make you cum first before him.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came intensely and then a few moments later, Connie also came.

Connie then pulled out and collapsed on top of your body, then proceeded to give you small kisses between your breast. You both were breathing hard and you felt a small smile slowly form on your face. "I know this wasn't the proper way to build our relationship back up." He said against your skin. "Let me make it up to you and take you out tomorrow." He looked up at you through his long eyelashes.

You smiled and brought his head up to kiss him again, "I would love that."

*

*

*

Follow me on Instagram @//jungjaehoe127

[calpalirwin]

Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers. 

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

__

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996​ @creator-appreciator​ @philthepegacorn​ @myfavfanficsever​ @cxddlyash​ @youngblood199456​ @stormrider505​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @hoodhoran​ @metalandboybands​ @maybeememez​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @wiiildflowerrr @heartskippeddabeat​

[littlemisslipbalm]

“I am not going to join your band”

Summary: You’re longtime best friends with Mitch Rowland and you’re in love with him. When he starts working with Harry you tag along and watch as Mitch falls in love with Sarah. But Harry watches them too and you realize you have each other. 

A/N: Why is this lowkey a Mitch fanfic at the beginning OMG - i didn’t mean for it to be like that but it kind of reads that way. I will definitely be doing a part 2 I just wanted to kind of set the stage for what is to come (likely another three part kind of thing). NOT (really) PROOFREAD AND FEEDBACK MUCH APPRECIATED (I love hearing from you)

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, otherwise this is just HS1 Studio FLUFF

Part 2

---

All your life had been exceptionally boring. And you had no complaints. You were from a family with two parents, two siblings, and a pet. You went to public school and performed well, but never excelled in anything because you didn’t care to. You chose to go to college just an hour away from your hometown, a small liberal arts school. Your life was, by all accounts, average. You weren’t super popular and you weren’t bullied excessively around town. You just existed there.

The only thing, or person, rather, in your life that you really thought made it exceptional was Mitch. Mitch grew up next door to you when you were kids, he was a few years older but he didn’t mind hanging with you. You eventually became best friends and did everything together. Sneaking in through his window to play with his pet lizard when you were seven. Sneaking out with him to drive around in his car and drink stolen alcohol when you were sixteen. You did everything with Mitch. You thought he was your soulmate. While he was quiet with others and that sometimes freaked them out, you either enjoyed the silence or got to see his truly imaginative and beautiful personality.

Mitch was a musician all his life and you sat with him when he learned to play on his thrifted first ever guitar and attended every one of his high school rock band’s shows, even if that meant sneaking into a bar at fourteen.  

Staying close to home wasn’t hard because that’s where Mitch was. Even if nothing ever had even remotely happened between you and Mitch, you held out hope. He had thought about it just once, if neither of you found anyone else it might be nice to have a family together, but he had dismissed it quickly. Mitch saw you as a little sister and loved having you as his best friend who he could tell anything to, but it was never going to be anything more for him.

So there you and Mitch were, living your little lives in Middle America, nothing to your names, but some average education, affordable apartments, and going-nowhere jobs. That is, until one day Mitch’s roommate called him up to ask if he could come play guitar for some musician’s album he was working on. The musician’s guitarist had called in sick and Mitch’s roommate had volunteered Mitch for the job. That’s when Mitch’s life changed, but what about yours?

It was heading into the second week of Mitch working on the musician’s album, who you had found out to be the famous Harry Styles. Mitch had come home after the first day and called you to come over. When you arrived, he told you how Harry and him had gotten along so well and Harry had invited him to keep coming back and playing on the album. You had never seen Mitch so excited and you were happy for him. You couldn’t help the twinge in your heart though when he kept bringing up someone named ‘Sarah’. She was apparently the drummer and had been very nice to Mitch, as well.

Now Mitch had this whole other life and you were sat there like what the hell am I supposed to do now? Then on that Saturday evening, after a long day in the studio for Mitch, he had come over to watch a movie and unwind with you, he asked if you wanted to tag along to the studio with him on Monday and see how it’s going. He was always telling you how cool everything was and you were quick to jump at the chance to both hang out with Mitch and see him doing what he loved.

On Monday, Mitch picked you up and drove you to the studio. When you got inside the building you were already amazed. The place was small, but so incredibly cool to you. You had never been to a real recording studio before and one of the things you and Mitch loved to do together was music - listening to it, playing it, buying it, so this was an unforgettable experience. Mitch walked through one of the bigger studios doors and the two of you entered the part of the studio that was where all the soundboards and tech was.

Harry, the man who had practically fallen in love with Mitch as well, was inside the room already. He turned to Mitch and beamed his large smile, his teeth a shiny white. You could tell why everyone in the world was in love with Harry just from that smile, it was truly an ‘award-winning smile’. “Mitch!” he exclaimed and gave him a tight hug. Mitch only smiled softly. When Harry pulled back his eyes flitted over to your figure standing just slightly behind Mitch. “You’ve brought a friend ‘round, that is so lovely!” he first said to Mitch and then turned back to you, “What is your name, love?” You extended your hand and said your name, Harry only glanced at your hand and then pulled you into a hug as well, a slightly less exuberant hug, but a hug nonetheless. You loved Mitch, but you didn’t understand how this bright and bubbly man had warmed up so quickly to Mitch’s quiet and solemn exterior.

Harry looked at Mitch with something in his eye you couldn’t quite place after the three of you chatted for awhile. “Well, you’re very lucky to have this man in your life, Y/N, he’s one of the best guitarists I’ve ever met, like, holy fuck, he is good.” You smiled at his praise for Mitch, and glanced adoringly at Mitch. Mitch only ducked his head at Harry’s enthusiastic praise. Whatever reasons Harry had for adoring Mitch, you were pretty sure it meant Mitch’s chance to get out of his old life, including you.  

Then, it was time for them to get to work. Harry and Mitch had already written one song together, or at least Mitch had helped Harry to finish it. Today, Harry wanted the band to play it for the first time all together. Harry had told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch in the soundboard room. You watched as the band set up all of their equipment and you felt your ears burn when you saw Mitch talk to the woman you identified as Sarah. You didn’t want to be jealous, you hated feeling possessive over a man that you weren’t even with, but you just felt like you were watching Mitch slip from your life more and more as every moment passed.

The band started playing the opening chords of what Harry had called Woman when he said into his microphone, “Take 1...of many for Woman.” You smiled as you watched Mitch get into his guitar playing for the song, he sounded amazing. But as much as you liked to watch Mitch play, you couldn’t help but stare at Harry when he began to sing. He was talented, beyond talented, his voice sounded angelic to you. He grooved a bit to the instruments as he sang the lyrics. It was a beautiful song, you thought, wishing you could have someone write a song like that about you.  

As the song reached over half way through, Mitch breaks into a rad guitar solo and for the first time since Harry began singing you looked back over to Mitch. That was kind of where the song ended, there was just a final time when Harry proclaims “Woman!” and it ends. You weren’t sure if it was normal to stand and applaud after a studio recording session, but you did anyway. You jumped up and down a little and clapped. The entire band smiled back at you and Harry leaned into the microphone, “Y/N, why don’t you come in here and join us?” You happily agreed and went into the adjoined room.

Harry told everyone to take a breather for about five, so the band was drinking water and chatting. When you got there you immediately belinned to Mitch and began to gush over how much you loved his solo and his playing throughout. Mitch talked in hushed tones back to you, saying where he thought he might speed up or slow down at parts. You didn’t notice Harry had walked up behind you and you jumped a bit at his voice. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. How’d you think it sounded?” Harry inquired. You tilted your head to look up at him, while Mitch was perched on an amp, Harry stood tall beside you. “It was lovely, the lyrics were epic and I loved the beat of it. I was just telling Mitch how amazing his guitar solo was…” your cheeks brightening when you mentioned Mitch. Harry had some knowing smile again.

“You’ll have to thank Sarah for delivering that beat, however, Mitch and I wrote those lyrics,” Harry continued the conversation with you. You couldn’t believe how normal he was for being a world famous singer and boy band member - just a year ago. One Direction was a huge deal, yet here Harry was asking you how you’d liked the song  and talking to you like you knew a thing or two about music. You and Harry talked about the song for a bit more, Mitch staying silent for almost the entirety of the conversation, you noticed his eyes wandered over to Sarah who was talking to Adam, the bassist. Then, it was time for Harry to listen to the song when the tech crew came back. When he did, he made notes for both the band and the tech crew and everyone got back to work. On the third go around of the song, you decided you were done giving them a round of applause.

They worked on Woman for half the day. When lunch time rolled around, Harry decided he was happy with how the song sounded, ‘good for now’ was all he said, obviously still not satisfied with how it sounded. During lunch you sat beside Mitch and across from Harry. The more you got to know Harry, the more you liked him. He was very playful and free spirited, but also took his passion very seriously and was endlessly grateful for the opportunities he had been given. As you warmed up to Harry, you noticed Mitch being a bit more animated. Had he been keeping his guard up because he wasn’t sure if you and Harry would get along?

There was still sometime before the break ended, but everyone had finished eating. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but when you came back, you saw Mitch occupied with Sarah. You looked helplessly on as he smiled and laughed with her. You felt left out as you really didn’t know anyone else but Mitch there. Sure you had gotten to know Harry a bit, but he was a rockstar and a guy you barely knew, you couldn’t just go up to him and ask to become your new best friend. Harry noticed you standing alone and walked up behind you, this time knowing to tap your shoulder to make you aware of his presence. You turned around at the touch you felt on your right shoulder, you were greeted with Harry’s bright eyes and soft smile. “Do you play any instruments?” Harry asked you. That’s random. “Eh, I can play some piano and guitar. I love piano, but I don’t keep up with it as much as I should.” “Well, you should keep coming here with Mitch. You could get some practice in, we’ve got a piano here somewhere,” Harry said as he raised his head and started to look dramatically around the room. “‘S right behind you,” you smiled at the man who had given Mitch a chance and now seemed to be giving you a chance, too. Harry whipped his head around, “Ahh…Well I’ll make sure it’s tuned for you for tomorrow.” You thanked him and the two of you began chatting about Harry’s visions for the album.

Three Weeks Later

“I am not joining your band, Harry, I’m not even that good of a piano player!” You threw your hands up. “Will you hush? You’re amazing, quit denying it,” Harry grinned as he pinned your arms down to your sides and flipped you around, “Now play exactly what you showed me earlier.” He marched you to the piano and plopped you into the accompanying stool. You huffed a sigh and placed your fingers on the keys. “You don’t even have piano on all-” “Ap, bahp, bahp! Plaayyy…” Harry cut you off and then added, “Please?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Such a baby.

You had been coming with Mitch to the studio for almost a month now. After your first day, Harry had retuned the idle piano for you and you had messed around with it when they weren’t recording. You and Harry had become closer over the time, he realized you were almost the female version of Mitch, but slightly less shy and slightly more opinionated. And you had realized that Harry was the kindest man you knew, only after Mitch. Mitch and Sarah had also become closer in the past three weeks. As much as it pained you to watch, you could never look away. The band and you started to go out every night and every night Mitch and Sarah always ended up sitting apart from everyone else wrapped in their own world. It hurt your heart so much, but you pushed through, happy to be around all the amazing people you had gotten to know. As well, whenever you were left alone, Harry always seemed to pop up, chatting about what was next for the album and what you had been doing on the piano earlier in the day.

Today, you had sought out Harry, wanting to show him something you’d been playing with since yesterday. When he heard what you played he brought up something he had mentioned a couple weeks ago, that you had thought was a joke, he wanted you to join the band - to play keys. You laughed it off, but Harry persisted. Now he was having you play the little random piece you had made up for everyone: the band and the crew. Your stomach was doing flips and your heart was in your throat. This was one of the main reasons you didn’t think you could be in Harry’s band, anxiety. It was minor, but you definitely had some - if your nerves in your physical body and your thoughts in your brain were any indication.

Finally, you began to play. It was the tune of what would become Sweet Creature. When you finished the early sound of it, there was silence. Sarah was the first to clap and then everyone followed quickly after. You ducked your head down and then looked up again with a smile on your face. It widened when you looked over at Harry and Mitch right by your side. You had never had people saying something of yours was great. Harry and Mitch stayed in the studio room with you, excited at the new prospect of a song. The album had reached a roadblock a couple days ago. Harry wasn’t liking any of the songs they were making and he was struggling to write any new ones. This, your art, was a breakthrough. After you had played, Mitch picked up one of the acoustic guitars laying around and began to play the same tune on the strings. Harry began to hum along. They twiddled with your tune a bit, but eventually they had to let it go for the time being. Lunch had ended and they still had to keep working on the other unfinished songs.

-

[sunjaesol]

28, 31, and 32 for Willex for the kiss prompts

KISS PROMPTS (closed) 28 + 31 +32. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss + Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips + A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards

(canon)

If Willie’s afterlife wasn’t on the line, he’d be begging to be warped back to that dark room so he could cry and hyperventilate in peace. Alas, it was Willie and Alex was pretty sure he was sort of in love with the guy - crying was no option right now. Afterwards, whether there was a good or bad outcome, he’d cry. A lot.

The plan sounded easy. It did, because it was made up by Luke and Reggie (under supervision by Julie, but angels could only do so much) and their one track mind didn’t take the dozen things that could go wrong into account. 

Sneak into the HGC, challenge Caleb to a musical battle, find Willie while the diversion was happening, get out. They didn’t know how big the club truly was, they didn’t know if Willie was there, they didn’t know if he… (he couldn’t think like that) and, on top of that, they were taking a huge risk returning to the crime scene. 

That man was the Devil and he had managed to lure them right into his snake pit without breaking a sweat. It was terrifying. 

Alex wished he was like his brothers. They were scared, sure, but it didn’t cripple them to a numbing fear. His muscles were so tight, he could snap. 

Julie noticed though. As the boys were preparing their riffs, she sat beside him on the couch. She didn’t say anything, but having her there was enough. (And if she intentionally deepened her breathing, all rhythmic and soothing, she didn’t mention it and neither did he. It helped.)

“Alright, boys,” Luke called out, body kinetic and twitching with energy. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Reggie hollered, plucking a few snares on his bass to accompany Luke’s laugh. Julie squeezed Alex’ hand and then hoisted him up when he didn’t move. 

Shooting them all a stern look, she said: “Be careful, please. Please don’t… do anything stupid.”   

“Julie-”

“Luke, please,” she pressed, nodding at the blonde. “No impulsive moves. Not right now.”

The guitarist slowly nodded, eyes flicking from the girl to the nervous drummer and then back to her. It seemed to mellow him down a bit, Alex utterly grateful she had him wrapped around her finger. 

Luke’s following words were hollow in his head, echoing in and out as his chest clenched and twisted up in a splintering knot. He knew he should be focusing, knew it would do him good hearing the plan again, to have it fresh in his mind, but he simply couldn’t. 

He just wanted Willie back. He promised he’d follow him and he wasn’t ready for the intense guilt if he couldn’t fulfil that. 

“Okay,” Alex interrupted his friend’s spiel. “Let’s do it.”

Luke’s brows raised in surprise and nodded, Reggie holding out his hands for them to hold. Julie took a step back and pressed a brave smile on her face. If he had any space in his mind to check in on her, he would. 

The bassist bid her a cheery goodbye - always the best one at faking confidence - and then they poofed out. 

Reappearing in front of the club, they took a collective breath. Because they were previously affected by Caleb, its lingering powers gave them the skill to still teleport to the hidden location. It was a loophole, something he hoped would save their asses again and again, for as long as they were on earth. 

Their entire afterlife existence was one fucking loophole. (Stop stressing about it! Focus on Willie!)

(He could really scream in a museum right now.) 

“Reg and I are gonna sneak in, cause a riot-”

“Hell yeah.”

“-and play like motherfucking rockstars,” Luke continued, gaze pointedly fixed on Alex. “You can do it, Alex. You know him better than anyone, you’re gonna know where he is.”

“Yeah, bud,” added Reggie. “Just follow the scent of your sweet, sweet boy. Or skid marks. Whatever. Or-”

He raised his hand. “Yeah, okay,” a shuddering breath paused his words, “thanks, Reg.”

Everything went really fast and agonisingly slow at once. His heart quickened its pace with each passing second, to the point where he wasn’t sure he’d make it back out. His friends ran inside and started kicking down chairs and tables, interrupting the performance of the menacing Caleb.  

Meanwhile, Alex slipped by on the periphery of the club, skittish eyes trying to find doors and hallways and stairs - anywhere that wasn’t meant for the public. It felt like someone was chasing him, like Caleb was already going after him when the electrifying riffs of Luke were clearly audible and piercing through intrusive thoughts. 

Focus. Focus on Willie. Save Willie. 

Doors slammed open and close, all devoid of people or ghosts. Some rooms caused a chill down his spine at the sight of utter darkness, reminded of the twenty-five years he had hopelessly cried. 

Running up and down stairs, turning corners in winding hallways, endless and long and messy. He had no clue how he should go back, if he was cornering himself.

Alex froze. Was he falling into a trap? Had this been Caleb’s plan all along? Oh, God. He should go back. He should find his way back to daylight, not look back and move on. This was too much, too much for a seventeen year old to handle. He couldn’t… 

Frustration poured from his throat into an angry shout. No! He should do this! If Willie risked everything, if Willie got buses to disappear into the desert, if Willie tried protecting him over and over again-

Alex screamed again. Louder and louder and louder. 

And then he heard it. Faint. 

“Alex?”

His breath hitched in his throat. No way. No fucking way. Cautiously, his feet followed the sound of the voice. It sounded like the skater, but he couldn’t be completely sure until he saw his face. Who knew what other tricks Caleb had up his sleeve? 

He gulped. “Willie?”

“Alex!”

It came from another hallway, echoing and warped. Right as he was about to turn the corner, sensing a presence, his voice called out. 

“Wait! You can’t… you can’t look at me. If you do, I won’t be able to escape.”

Confusion riddled his thoughts. “The hell?”

Willie sighed. “It’s- Caleb put a curse on me. No one is allowed to look at me.” The voice came closer. Still warped, like it was disembodied. “You have to trust that I’m following you.”

“I don’t know my way back,” Alex cried out. 

“I’ll help, Hotdog,” he said, the blonde imagining that signature crooked smile pulling on his lips. “Turn around and don’t look back at me. I’ll be there.”

Oh, man. This was a horrible time to start trusting his gut. But if a spontaneous solo yelling match got him to find Willie, then he should try this too. Spinning on his heels, he waited ‘til he felt something, anything, to indicate he was there. It didn’t happen. Unsure if he should call out for him, he started the trek. 

The closer he came back to his starting point, the more he noticed how the music was dying out. No guitar or bass that shredded through walls, no jazzy scatting that overpowered it. There was noise, but no distinct sound could be picked out. It felt like a haunted house. 

All the while, Willie nudged him around the right corners and up the right stairs. Wordlessly, that was. Somehow, he could feel it. Felt his guidance, as if a thin thread looped around him tugged him forward. (Or maybe, he just had a lot of practising chasing him around that it was like muscle memory.) 

After a few minutes, his surroundings became familiar. The air became thicker, the lights brighter. He still didn’t feel anyone behind him. From the corner of his eye did he see Luke and Reggie sprinting out the club. Correction: the demolished club. They really weren’t playing when they said they’d cause a riot. Fucking hooligans. 

Running for the door, he didn’t think about Caleb capturing them or Willie’s lack of body or anything. All he wanted to do was hold Willie again. Hug him. Kiss him. 

The drummer jumped over the threshold into broad daylight, Luke and Reggie hollering in victory when he did. Alex was stiff though, waiting. Anticipating. Did he follow? Was he still there? 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen if I leave without his permission, Alex,” Willie suddenly croaked out. 

His eyes screwed tight, clenching his fists and jaw and holding his ground. “We’ll figure it out, Willie,” he spit. “Please.”

All of a sudden, the boy crashed into his back with a blasting force, nearly teetering them to the ground. Warm arms wrapped around him, fingers curling into the strap of his fanny pack and twisting his body. 

And there he was, with gleaming eyes and a beautiful smile: Willie. 

Alex scrambled back on his feet and lurched forward, snatching him into a tight embrace. Tears burst up at the feel of his skin and dark locks and- and he was here. He was safe.    

“What happened?” he whispered. “What did he do?”

“Put me in a harder curse to crack,” he mumbled, “but I knew you could do it, Hotdog.”

He laughed, the sound wet and choked, and gripped onto his shoulders. Pulling away, he still couldn’t believe he was here. His hands wandered to his face, unable to keep himself from tracing his forehead and jaw to make sure that he was here. To make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Willie let him; a fond smile blooming. 

And when his nail went past his bottom lip, he stopped thinking entirely. 

Alex tilted his chin and as Willie’s smile grew, softly kissed him on the lips. He’s never kissed anyone before, but this seemed right. Willie was right. And man, did it feel good. 

Afraid of the overwhelming sensation - of the warmth and the lightness in his head and the beat of his heart that stuttered but in a good way - he pulled away, fingers still around his chin and noses brushing.  

An elated puff mingled with Willie’s breath. “Should I have told you first that I like you? Oh, shit. Should I have asked?”  

The boys behind him whooped and whistled. When he turned and told them to fuck off, they actually listened for once. Luke disappeared in a snap, Reggie following suit right after with a suggestive smirk and wink. Idiot. 

Hands snaked around his neck and swivelled him back to Willie’s grinning face. Before he could react, Willie pulled him down to his level and captured him into a searing kiss. His body moved on its own accord, coaxing them closer and deepening the kiss and allowing that avalanche of emotions to crash into him. These feelings were good. They weren’t supposed to scare him; this was good. Willie was good.     

Fuck it, he was perfect. 

It left him breathless and speechless, lips puckered in a daze and unable to open his eyes once Willie lessened his hold. Their foreheads pressed together instead, an enamoured smile twitching to explode in that goofy way he always mocked Luke for.  

“I like you too, Alex,” he whispered. “A lot.”

He opened his eyes and was met with his bright smile, his own slowly cracking open. Green peered into brown. He could stand here forever, but he knew the boys and Julie were waiting, knew Caleb was on the prowl somewhere. 

Their hands laced together. It didn’t take a lot for Alex to confidently smile at him. Right now, no anxiety could ruin his mood. Willie was here. Willie was safe. Willie liked him - a lot. 

“C’mon,” he said, “I wanna introduce you to someone.”