#link boyband

[forestfrolickingfairy787]

Linked Universe Headcanons: What I think each of their roles would be in a boy band

I'm surprised how popular my prev one was! I was chatting to a non fan friend and she was curious what they would be like in a band, and asked me who the rapper would be...I reckon WILD hahah

Anyways...

Time: Not an active member but used to be a solo artist back in the day, he doesn't like being in the limelight as much and mentors/manages the rest of them. Still has that suave quality, a total heart throb and occasionally hosts a one off concert only available to the VIPS. He was the IT boy back in the day.

Warriors: Leader of the band and all rounder. He's a complete heartbreaker, can sing, and dance every style and fans go crazy over him. Very charismatic and flirty, knows how to make a fan feel special at a meet and greet and always takes a photo with them.

Twilight: I think lead guitarist, can sing beautifully and has one of the most charming voices, also very yeehaw and country when he goes on solo tour dates or drops his album. He's dripping with quiet confidence and doesn't share too much about his private life to fans, likes to keep a boundary between his private and professional life but will always be kind of them and never deny a photo or autograph

Sky: Has a beautiful voice, more shy and s o f t, he's one of the more quieter members and doesn't like being on camera as much but doesn't hate it either. Has that sweet prince charming vibe that everyone loves, would probably be a part time model on top of his band duties. Can play the guitar and bass

Wild: Absolute hardcore. He's def the main rapper and won't pass up the chance to drop any bars. He'll def go on rap battle tv shows and break EVERYONE. Mans got flow and swag, especially after getting a full arm of tattoos. What's the backstory behind them? He'll change it everytime he's on an interview. Absolute coolest dude on earth, fans LOVE him and how chill he is but you don't want to get on this guy's bad side or you'll be on his diss track list. Even the others are slightly scared of him. Always on social media posting selfies and updates, or threatening other artists that come for him or his band. Likes to film the other members to until Time tells him to cut it out and touch grass

Legend: I can see him having a lot of range in his voice, very powerful and can sing ballads. One of the lead singers and occasionally helps with writing songs. He CAN dance if he puts his heart and soul into it. He loves writing poetry and secretly writes love songs for himself based on a special girl, but he'll tear them up before anyone sees them. Would Probably records an incredible, heartfelt song he wrote and composed himself on his instagram then delete it after 5 hours beccause he'll be like, why the hell did I just do that? Fans would cry, wishing he would post more gems like that. Hates to be in the front but also fairly confident in his skills. Fans adore him because you can just see he's actually a big softie on the inside despite that tough exterior he puts up. Secretly jealous of Wild's rap ability, can't rap to save his life but maybe, one day.

Hyrule:

One of the lead singers, has the most melodic voice and can absolutely stun a crowd with his angelic vocals. Like Legend, also is one of the members with the most range. You know when you see someone in person and their just glowing? Yea, that's him. Sweetest celeb ever, everyone that's worked with him only has good things to say about this guy. Definitely has the most potential to go solo as well with his incredible piano skills. Can also play almost every other instrument, an absolute talent in everything. He also sponsors charities every now and then and interacts with fans on social media. Can do contemporary dance

Wind/Four: Tbh I think they would be good in broad way, both are great singers and still very much fanboys to the others. Their working their way, still in training. Can definitely see Wind going big on broadway and theatre and specialising in tap dance

Can you guess who is my bias? Or who's your bias? hehe

[majiburger]

now that i've been thinking about one direction again for the last few days (and forgive me if this reads as tone deaf considering the general situation rn), i do want to say that it BAFFLES me how niall kept his love life a secret for five whole years. this is not me saying he owes me this information or that he should give fans a play-by-play of his dating life. i'm glad he's been able to keep things private, i'm not digging or fishing, i'm just nosy as hell, he's not going to read this etc etc. but like. the boys were so overexposed for years, literally every interviewer asked them about their love lives, even when they dated non-celebrities, their relationships were widely discussed. even when they tried to keep it a secret, they were papped alllll the time (like the time harry was supposedly dating t-swift the first time around and he got caught kissing a girl that was NOT her). even when they weren't papped, they were most certainly spotted in public by fans and non-fans. i know eleanor and louis had been sighted by multiple regular, non-1d fans who only vaguely knew louis as "that guy from 1d." people used to follow perrie's brother and zayn's sisters on instagram and get updates about their relationship from there. stans had a hawklike eye on who the boys and their family members started following and unfollowing on instagram and twitter. bobby and greg have public accounts and so do his cousins and friends. i refuse to believe hailee steinfeld was niall's first relationship, he's had to have dated around. but you mean to tell me he bypassed this mass surveillance/panopticon of celebrity life and did it secretly? never even got caught once doing anything that would catch people's attention? and you mean to tell me it was such a well-kept secret that the boys, who were notorious for letting things slip, did not let it slip? did they even know what he did in his free time? did he even tell them? he's so funny

[alarrytale]

marte, about this anon.

Do you think there could be a possibility for h and l to expose it all.....I'm talking bbg, rbb sbb, elouno, stunts, Haylor, closeting, abuse, punishment, drug use etc (like a whole tell all)? Because britney spears is also kind of doing it. I know she is definitely not allowed to say everything, but I feel like when the people in power die....they will be able to say more. Especially simce so many X factor contestants are speaking up.....what do you think?

Hi, anon!

It think the chances of everything being exposed are slim. Britney is only telling her side of her own story and very carefully, not to slander anyone in the process. She must have proof of everything she's saying that will hold up in court. She's also not under the same contracts 1d are.

I don't think much will change if people involved dies. But you never know.

[luci-hemwin-evanson]

They should do like a Starstruck remake but with a guy that's on a band/boyband instead

Like a good One Direction fanfic (not like the ones that actually got made into movies)

[louisupdates]

If you’ve been on social media today, you may have seen a certain word trending: Zouis. But what does it mean? Well, Zouis is portmanteau of Zayn and Louis. Specifically, Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson from One Direction.

The pair were spotted together in Los Angeles, with Tomlinson attending Malik’s gig—sending the internet into a frenzy

With Zouis spreading like wildfire on social media, this story operates as an interesting example of how fandoms can deal with grief, and, for once, how the internet can be a positive communal force.

What’s Happening With Zouis? Why Were Zayn Malik And Louis Tomlinson Together?

Zayn Malik is currently on his Stairway To The Sky tour, and is playing several nights at the Shrine Expo Hall in Los Angeles, California.

Louis Tomlinson—who was in boyband One Direction with Malik—attended the show on Jan. 29. This is the first time the pair, known as Zouis, have been together publicly since One Direction bandmate Liam Payne’s funeral on Nov. 20, 2024.

After Malik left the group in 2015, One Direction broke up the year after, and the members have rarely been together since, with each pursuing solo careers.

This makes the appearance of Zouis a special moment for fans, as well as seemingly for Malik and Tomlinson themselves, with the former referencing his bandmate’s attendance at his concert in glowing terms:

How Did Social Media React The Appearance Of Zouis?

The online world went wild for the return of Zouis. There are tens of thousands of tweets about the event. Many of which show pure enthusiasm:

While others contain simple declarations of love towards Zouis:

There’s a sombre tone to some posts which reference the death of Liam Payne:

While difference accounts are self-referential about their own reaction to the partial One Direction reunion:

There’s one overwhelming trend though: pure excitement and adulation.

Why Is Social Media Reacting To Zouis In This Way?

There are a few things at play. Firstly, One Direction fans are renowned for their obsession with the group. Combined with the size of the boyband—3.4 million people saw them during their Where We Are tour alone—this means there’s a huge community of interested people whenever news about them drops. Like Zouis.

But there’s also a more sombre side to this overwhelming online reaction, and that can be linked to a sense of loss.

It’s common for fans to form parasocial relationships with people they follow. Effectively, this is when individuals believe they have a close tie with public figures, even though this is a one-way friendship. Often, this is driven by the perceived intimacy of social media.

This can induce serious emotions. So, when a member of a group like One Direction passes away, as is the case with Liam Payne, it can feel as though someone they’re close with had died.

When Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson came together for the first time since the funeral, it can feel like a cathartic moment for fans, as though things are righting themselves. One way of dealing with this outpouring of emotion, then, is to post on social media.

And that’s a key way of viewing this explosion of activity about Zouis: a celebration.

People are not only expressing joy at seeing members of One Direction together, but this enthusiasm also acts a tribute to Liam Payne. This creates a sense of community, of an entire fandom coming together and praising a new chapter in something they love.

Ultimately, the spread of posts about Zouis displays a positive side to social media, one where people share a connection and come together in unity. In these divided times, that’s a beautiful thing to see.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ curator's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[starsforhours]

this has a special place in my heart

what is a headcanon you have about the igto boys that you don't talk about?

optional: and why?

A lot of like 3-4 years+ into the future post canon type stuff. Mostly cause none of them are fleshed out enough to be coherent lol. Some more fleshed out things that I just never posted about tho in case you wanted specifics:

The boys decide to stop doing Saturday at the 23-24 range

Not cause they hate it but to do different things in their lives

After that Zach and Ruben move to New York and Ruben starts doing Broadway (and eats)

Zach goes solo (also eats)

Jon helps produce and write the songs (think Taylor Swift and Jack Atinof)

Angel goes big in on philanthropy and supports charities based around rehab ("if I can stop even one person from going through what I went through that's a major win")

That's about it. That's my cook ✨️

[yuta-nakamots]

Fools - H.Renjun

Pairing - Boyband Member!Renjun x Makeup Artist!Female Reader 

Genre(s) - Fluff, Angst, Hairspray!AU, The Outsiders!AU, Soc!Renjun, Greaser!Reader, 60s!AU

Warning(s) - social group rivalry/discrimination (Greasers vs. Socs), mild physical violence

Summary - You’re a Greaser makeup artist and he’s the Soc golden-boy idol with a perfect smile and a secret streak of rebellion. Every Tuesday, Renjun trades polish for something real, and he kisses you like it’s worth losing everything he has.

Word Count - 6.5k

Author’s Note - I wrote this to be similar to Hairspray, where Renjun and the reader work for a weekly recurring show except without the racism. Hairspray was one of the first Broadway musicals I was introduced to and I remember it so clearly as a part of my childhood so I really tried to include things like the childhood crush I had on Link and the hurdle of social unrest regarding the difference in groupings of the characters 

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls @dinonuguaegi @tinyzen @fancypeacepersona (join my taglist!)

Written for The Outsiders Collab hosted by @fruityutas. Also part of my NCT Dream: Seven Days Collection. 

Now playing: Fools - Troye Sivan, Without Love - Motion Picture Cast of Hairspray, Just Wanna Be With You - High School Musical Cast

The scent of hairspray lingered like smoke in the backstage areas, curling through rows of vanity bulbs and cracked linoleum floors. It was a Tuesday–always a Tuesday–when the studio lights buzzed hotter than usual, and the city’s golden kids rolled in with smiles lacquered like records. On camera, everything gleamed, but off camera, it was all duct tape, sweat, and powdered noses. 

There were two kinds of people in this town, the ones who owned the spotlight and the ones who held it up on their shoulders. 

The Socials, otherwise known as the Socs, cruised around in candy-colored convertibles, wallets fat with daddy’s money, and grins cleaned up to perfection. They wore clean, pressed clothes and carried names that opened doors. Their lives were picture-perfect, lacquered in fame and privilege. 

The Greasers? You guys clawed your way through life with dirt under your nails and oil in your veins. Your world was diner counters, cigarette breaks in the studio parking lot, and leather jackets that doubled as armor. You painted on your eyeliner like war paint and didn’t flinch when someone called you ‘rough around the edges’. Let them be scared. 

Recently, you had taken up work in the shadows behind the scenes of a weekly music show, touching up the kinds of people who never looked at you unless their powder ran dry. You weren’t one of them. Not even close. But still, every Tuesday, at noon sharp, you stood behind the same cracked vanity lit by buzzing bulbs and the flicker of dreams that weren’t yours. 

You wiped your makeup-stained hands with a stained rag before tugging a stool toward the large vanity in front of you. Another Tuesday meant another round of perfecting faces that never saw a hard day’s work. You adjusted your cat-eye liner with the edge of your thumbnail, checking your reflection. Smudged, tired, yet still standing. 

“Dreamboys live in ten minutes,” barked the stage manager’s voice, a sharp call throughout the studio. 

In came your last task for the day, Renjun. A golden boy of the Soc scene. Perfect blazer, white teeth, hair so neat it could’ve been painted. The suit he wore likely cost more than your entire paycheck. His voice sent girls into shrieking frenzies as it was broadcast into homes all over the country. You’d seen the posters of him and his boy band, the Dreamboys. A bunch of clean-cut Socs with harmonies tight enough to sell innocence and fake rebellion all in one song.

He slid into your makeup chair without asking, his presence filling the room like he belonged there. His cologne was sharp but expensive with notes of citrus and power. His eyes flicked up to meet yours through the mirror. Cool and curious. 

“You always look this serious when you touch up the stars?” He asked, voice smooth like velvet.

You grabbed a powder puff and tapped it sharply against his cheek. “Only when they act like they burn brighter than the rest of us.”

He chucked. “Fair enough.” He looked at you with a hint of amusement. Something dangerous, something real. “You don’t belong back here,” he said quietly, like a confession. “You’ve got eyes like someone meant to be on stage.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hands fell to the collar of his jacket, straightening it out. “And you’ve got the face of someone who’s never been told no.”

He laughed, light and airy. Something changed in the air between you. Perhaps it was just the heat of the lights or the static of the studio. 

“Dreamboys on standby in five,” the director's voice called. The hallways buzzed with movement. Staff scurried past while the producer was yelling something about lighting cues. Yet Renjun didn’t move. 

He lingered in your makeup station, perched in the seat with his legs splayed, watching you as you lined up your brushes with practiced precision. You dusted his cheeks with a final touch of blush, pulling back to assess your work before straightening his tie. With a nod of approval, you grabbed your puff to blot the shine off the tip of his nose, your free hand coming to his chin to hold him steady. 

You felt the way his breath hitched just slightly as his face sat in your hold, your hand brushing against his jaw. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lips pulled tight in concentration, before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

“You always this gentle?” He mused.

You clicked the powder compact shut. “You always this nosy?”

Before he could answer, someone shouted again from behind the camera. “Dreamboys, now! We’re rolling in two!”

Renjun slid off the chair with a reluctant sigh. He glanced back once, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re good at this,” he stated plainly.

“What? My job? I kinda have to be.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean, hiding how much you like me.”

You nearly threw your puff at him. “Break a leg, Dreamboy.”

He winked. “Only if you’re the one patching me up later.”

With that, he disappeared in the hustle of the studio, his polished shoes tapping against the floor and echoing in your ears long after he was gone.

The next Tuesday, he was back. Same velvet voice, same blinding smile. But this time, when the producer called for touch-ups, Renjun asked for you by name.

You had barely clocked in, still shrugging off your jacket and slipping your makeup brushes out of your bag, when the stage manager tapped your shoulder. “One of the Dreamboys asked for you.” 

You rolled your eyes. Of course he did. “I’ll bring him in.”

You found him lounging in the Dreamboys’ dressing room, sleeves rolled up, legs splayed out and crossed at the ankles like he had nothing better to do. He was halfway into costume–slim-fit slacks, pastel button-down tucked somewhat into his waistband, and a tie hanging around his shoulders as if he had all the time in the world. 

“Greaser girl’s here,” he announced when you walked in, drawing glances from the other boys. “I was starting to think I scared you off after last week.”

“You wish,” you responded coolly. “You’re not that special.”

He grinned. “Tell that to the hundreds of fan letters I got this morning.”

You scoffed. “Can’t decide whether to give you a touch-up or an ego check.”

“Can I get both?” He asked coyly. 

“Sure, golden boy. Need you in my chair first,” you quipped, leaving the dressing room and heading back to the hair and makeup room with Renjun in tow.

Once he was seated, he watched you through the mirror as you leaned in close, dabbing a tissue at the smudge of lipstick from the corner of his mouth. His gaze was equally as playful as it was sharp and studying, like he was trying to figure out the story behind the chipped polish on your nails. 

“You always this serious?” He asked, quieter than usual. 

“Only when I’m working,” you replied.

“And what about when you’re not?”

You set the tissue down and rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. “How about you find that out for yourself?”

Later that night, the crew packed up fast, the stage lights dimming to an orange glow. Rain tapped gently on the rooftop, the kind of soft weather that made the neon signs outside glow like fireflies. 

You were halfway to the exit when you saw Renjun again, waiting by the loading dock, tucked into the shadows where a random passerby wouldn’t think to look. Gone was the pastel shirt and blazer. In its place was a leather jacket two sizes too big and slung around his narrow frame. His hair wasn’t slicked back like it always was, but instead it was a little windblown, as if he’d run through the streets without worry for his appearance. His loafers were scuffed, yet his eyes were bright. 

“Hey,” he said with his voice low as you walked past. 

You paused mid-step, turning to him and raising a brow at his reckless visual. “Did you rob a Greaser on your way out?”

“No,” Renjun chuckled, tugging at the collar lightly. “Just wanted to try something new...Feel something different.”

“You wanted to feel what it’s like to be poor?” 

“To be real,” he countered. 

You folded your arms across your chest. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

He stepped closer, cocking his head. “You gonna tell on me, Greaser girl?”

You bite back a smile, heat crawling from your neck to your cheeks. “Only if you keep calling me that.”

Behind you, the lights of the studio flickered off, signaling the end of the day, but something else was just beginning. Renjun reached out and slotted his arm into the nook of your elbow. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.” Your heart skipped once at the sudden physical contact, yet you didn’t pull away. 

The following week, after the final applause fades and the crowd’s cheers for the Dreamboys die down, you slip backstage, heart still pounding from adrenaline as you practically had to shove Renjun out of your makeup chair and to his mark on the stage just as the bell sounded, signaling they were airing live. The Dreamboys make their way backstage after the show, eager to get out of their brightly colored suits and sweat-stained makeup. Renjun catches your eye across a dim hallway, his smile quiet but full of words unspoken. 

He pulls you aside, voice low and urgent. “We can’t keep meeting where everyone’s watching. I want a place where we can just…be us.”

You nod, understanding the weight behind his words. Somewhere off stage, somewhere away from the expectations of work, somewhere far from the crowd’s fantasies. He settles into your chair in front of the vanity, eyes meeting yours as you speak to him through the reflection of the mirror. “That old diner by the drive-in theater,” you suggest. “It’s closed during the week, and hardly anyone goes there late at night.”

Renjun’s eyes light up for the first time all night. “Tonight. After this is all done.” 

Against all odds, you and Renjun managed to meet in secret, away from the flickering lights of the studio and the commotion of the production team. 

You slide into the booth just as the neon sign outside sputters to life, its electric glow painting the vinyl seats in shades of blue and pink. Renjun’s already seated across from you, sipping from a coffee that’s long gone cold, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. You catch his gaze and flash a quick, cautious smile before dropping your purse behind you and giving a wave to the waitress at the counter. She knew your regular order. 

“This place hasn’t changed much,” he notes, voice almost a whisper. “Feels like a time capsule back from the good old days.”

“You used to come here often?” You inquired, wondering how you’ve never seen a Soc like him in a diner that was a favorite among the Greasers. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Back when I was just a kid with a dream, I’d come here after class with the other guys.” You nod in understanding. It’s strange how the air feels heaving within the walls of the diner, like the world outside was holding its breath. Renjun leans closer, his expression serious. “You know, back then, it was easier to just be myself. But now…I’m tired of being the guy everyone pins their fantasies on. It’s like they don’t see the real me.”

You glance away, fingers tracing the scratches on the table. “Guess I’m glad I don’t know what that’s like. I never really had the luxury to dream…not like you.”

He studies you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time you start.”

You continue meeting up with Renjun after the red ‘Now Airing’ signs go out every Tuesday night. The boardwalk on the way to the diner smells of wet leaves and late-night smoke, far from the polished studio lights and manicured stages. The diner’s neon buzzes faintly behind you as you duck into the building, taking a seat next to him at the bar. 

“Here,” you say, pulling a comb from your bag and handing it over to Renjun. “Let me show you how to slick your hair back without looking like you’re trying too hard.” He looks at you quizzically, as if you had just spoken in a different language. “I saw the way you were trying to do it in the dressing room earlier. That’s not how you do it.”

Renjun takes the comb from your handles, toying at the bristles like he’s holding a foreign object instead of a simple bit of plastic. He doesn’t move at first, just studies you, the flickering neon lights outside the window catching on his cheekbones. 

You scoot a little closer to him, the barstool squeaking beneath you. “It’s all about the angle,” you tell him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and guiding his hand up. “Don’t push it flat, it’ll make you look like a schoolboy whose mom did their hair on picture day.” 

A laugh slips out of him, short and surprised. “She used to,” he said, grinning crookedly. “Back when I was still doing auditions and struggling to book gigs.”

“Figures,” you mutter, but for some reason, you’re smiling too. You dip your fingers into the small tin of pomade you always carry, and you warm the paste between your hands. “Tilt your head.” Renjun obeys without question, and there’s something about the way he lets you touch him, his trust, his curiosity, that settles a strange warmth in your chest. Your hands smooth through his hair, coaxing it back in careful swoops. “It’s gotta look effortless, like you did it without thinking.”

“Is that what you do?” He asks, eyes closing as your fingertips press gently along his scalp.

“No,” you admit. “I think. A lot.” 

Renjun opens his eyes again, studying your face from mere inches away. “Well, if it helps, I think you make it look easy.”

You look away first, cheeks warming. “Don't you go getting all soft on me now.” 

But his voice deepens, sincere in a way that cuts through the hum of the diner. “You make me feel like I can be someone else. Someone true to myself.”

You pause, your hands lingering near his cheek. “And you make me feel like I can want more than I have.”

He tilts his head, hair now perfectly slicked, a ghost of your touch still in the strands. “Like what?”

You almost said it. Almost. But instead, you shrug, dropping your hands to the counter. “Maybe I’ll tell you next Tuesday.”

Renjun’s smile is quiet. “I’ll be here.” For a moment, it’s just the two of you and the quiet music from the jukebox in the corner, spinning some lovestruck tune you barely know. His fingers brush yours, light and tentative. “It’s different with you, it’s like I can breathe.” His swallow is audible. “When I’m in the studio, it's like I’m wearing a mask. I’m tired of being the guy everyone expects. The perfect Soc boy.”

You bite your lip, heart clenching. “Well, you do what you gotta do to survive. I’ve never had the luxury of dreaming like that. Greasers don’t get that kind of hope.”

Renjun reaches for your hand, for real this time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels like a promise. “But maybe you deserve to want more, to want out. Maybe it’s okay to dream, even if the world doesn’t make it easy.”

You shake your head. “That’s easy for you to say.”

When you return home that night, you’re climbing up the stairs to the front door when a hand rests on your shoulder, stopping you cold. 

“Where have you been?” Johnny questions. You’ve always known him as the one who doesn’t talk much unless it matters. 

He’s the guy who taught you how to change a tire before you knew how to drive, who patched up your busted knuckles the first time a street fight went sideways. He buys you coffee when he’s got spare change and slips you his extra cigarette when yours gets crushed in your bag. He never asks for anything in return, except maybe your common sense. So when you hear his voice behind you, low, steady, and unmistakably tired, you already know you’re in trouble. 

“Where’ve you been?” He asks once more. 

You turn slowly, looking upon Johnny’s face that was half illuminated by the street lights. He took his hand back, crossing his arms and staring you down with his brows furrowed. His hair was swept off his forehead, his leather jacket creased at the elbows like he’s been waiting for a while. 

“Nowhere,” you blurt all too fast.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Try again.”

You blow out a breath, eyes flicking to the ground. “It’s nothing. Just…went for a walk after work.”

Johnny steps forward, slow and deliberate. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t curse. That’s not him. It’s worse, somehow, his concern dripping from every word. “I saw you,” he states plainly. “Slipping out from the back of the studio. With him.”

You wince. “So?”

“So?” He copies, voice inflecting up at the end in ridicule. Johnny’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists under crossed arms. “You think this is a game? That guy’s a Soc, through and through. Silver spoon in his mouth, money in his pockets, the whole nine yards. He gets paid to play pretend. You don’t.”

“He’s not like the others.”

The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. “They never are…until they become like the others.”

You want to snap back and say something cruel just to shut him up, but you don’t, simply because it’s Johnny. The guy who once sat in a hospital waiting room for hours when you cracked a rib. The one who pulled you off the train tracks when your anger got bigger than you were. You know he’s not judging you, he’s just scared. For you. 

“I know what I’m doing,” you mutter.

“Do you?” He asks gently, and suddenly he’s not the towering, cocky guy everyone follows without question. He’s just your friend. The one who’s seen what heartbreak can do to you. The one who’s tried to shield you from it more than once. 

You swallow. “He makes me feel like I deserve to want things.”

Johnny’s expression cracks just a little. “Then I hope to hell he’s worth it.” 

You don’t answer. You just open the front door, pretending your hands aren’t trembling. He doesn’t try to stop you, but he stands on your porch well after you slip inside and shut the door. 

The next day, on the other side of town, the Dreamboys flood into the cramped, shabby dressing room at a magazine shoot. Renjun doesn’t even make it to his seat before they surround him like a storm gathering. Chenle perched on the vanity like it was a throne, Jisung by the door like a guard, and Jaemin leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a lollipop in his mouth. Mark is the only one standing in the middle, blocking the path like he’s hoping this will be a conversation and not a war.

“You had pomade on your collar,” Jaemin says, nodding over to the jacket he wore at the diner last night. “Was she touching you, or were you just playing hairstylist for fun?”

Renjun doesn’t answer. Just grabs the jacket and tosses it to the side. 

Mark steps forward. “Look, we get it. She’s cool. Greasers are cool…if you’re into chasing danger and pretending you’re not rich just for the hell of it.”

Renjun folds his arms. “She’s not just a Greaser.”

“Then what is she?” Chenle asks, hopping down from his spot. “A rebel? A middle finger to your family’s perfect image?”

“She’s real,” Renjun states, quiet but firm. “She’s the only person who doesn’t treat me like a porcelain doll or a paycheck.” There’s an ember of surprise, even hesitation, among them. 

Jeno, who’s been silent in the corner until now, finally speaks up. “We’re just trying to protect you. You know how this goes. If you cross lines like this, you pay, one way or another.”

“I’m not scared of paying,” Renjun replies, almost bitterly. “I’m scared of being nothing more than what people expect me to be. Some golden Soc boy who’s never lifted a finger.”

A heavy silence settles. Jisung shifts like he wants to speak, but thinks better of it. Jaemin’s lips closed around his lollipop, and his jaw flexed. Mark sighs, exhausted. “Just don’t forget who you are.”

Renjun meets his gaze, steady and unyielding. “Maybe I’m just starting to figure that out.” He pushes past them, jaw tight, and chest burning with something fierce and raw. Hope, fear, defiance, who knows? None of them tried to stop him, but none said goodbye, either. Behind him, the room feels colder, the weight of old expectations pressing down harder than ever. 

The backstage chaos swirls around you, the chatter of the crowd beyond the stage, the last-minute checks, the bright and unforgiving lights buzzing overhead. But hidden behind the heavy velvet folds of the curtain that separated the stage from the rest of the studio, everything felt calm. 

Renjun sits in the stool in front of you, silent, his eyes closed as you steady his face with one hand and brush foundation over the hollow of his cheek with the other. The world melts away with every gentle stroke, every soft exhale that escapes him. The scent of him surrounds you, a combination of cologne, sweat, the biting sharpness of hairspray, and something distinctly Renjun. Your fingers steady his chin as your brush continues gliding over his skin in practiced strokes. 

You’re closer than you should be. You lean closer, your thigh brushing his knee, your breath mingling with his. Every time your hand grazes his cheek, you feel his breath hitch just slightly. 

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

You pause in your motions. “So are you.”

A silence settles between you. Not empty, but full of what-ifs and possibilities. Then, slowly, he opens his eyes and looks up at you. Before you can talk yourself out of it, your lips meet his. 

It’s not desperate. It’s quiet, reverent. The kind of kiss that makes time hesitate. When you break away, you glance over your shoulder. No one is watching. Or at least, not yet. “Someone might come back here,” you whisper. You mean it as a warning, a line drawn. 

“I don’t care,” he mutters. But you do. You both do. 

Still, your hands falter as you reach for the powder. His fingers brush yours, ink-stained from notes he scribbled in the margins of his script. The touch lingers, hesitant. “Just for a second,” he pleads softly. 

It’s reckless. Stupid, even. Yet you kiss him again anyway. It’s quick, stolen, a breathless thing tucked between shadows and seconds. A kiss meant to disappear the moment it’s over. But it lingers on your lips like a secret you’ll never be able to bury deep enough. 

You break apart as footsteps echo nearby. Both of you turn away like nothing happened, like you’re still just a makeup artist and a client. But the heat in his gaze tells a different story. 

Later, after the curtain has fallen and the show has ended, the price of that kiss begins to surface. Renjun’s manager pulls him aside backstage, voice sharp and cutting. “You need to be careful. Your image, and ours, cannot afford distractions.” The message is clear, and so is the cost. And just like that, the pressure tightens around you. 

The whispers grow louder. You catch your name on the lips of coworkers when they think you’re not listening. Your name gets dragged into meetings and sits under pointed fingers. The warning arrives in your hands like a slap. “Inappropriate fraternization,” the letter reads in thick, bold typeface. One of the other makeup artists snickered over your shoulder, seeing the words stretch across the paper. 

The director calls you in after hours. His words are clipped. “We’re putting you under review,” he tells you. “You know why.” You nod, lips tight, throat dry. You knew this was coming. Still, it hurts more than you expected. 

The next week, Renjun catches your eye across the studio. His look says everything. ‘I’m sorry. I’m scared. I’m not letting go.’ 

Later, when you step outside for a breath of fresh air, he’s already there. He doesn’t speak, just slips his hand into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers squeeze, hesitant at first, then tighter like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. You don’t. Not yet. 

Your hand stays in his, your grip firm. It’s a quiet rebellion, tucked in the shadows of the studio’s back door. It’s defiant and dangerous, but it’s yours. Still, your heart twists because holding his hand doesn’t pay the bills. Affection doesn’t soften the sting of a paycheck withheld or the anxiety of being replaced. 

You look down at your shoes, worn and secondhand, then up at him, still glowing in post-show adrenaline. He has everything. Or at least, he’s supposed to. Fame, fans, futures mapped out in contracts. You only have this job, this one shot at a foothold in a world that was never built for people like you. 

“I can’t afford to be reckless,” you finally say, breaking the silence. “Not like you can.”

“I’m not trying to be reckless,” Renjun responds, his brows furrowing. “I’m trying to be real. Like  you.”

“But real doesn’t put food on the table.” You pull your hand just slightly from his. “And it sure as hell doesn’t get me a second chance when they decide I’m a problem.”

“I’m sorry.” He swallows hard, as if your words are a weight he wasn’t ready to carry. “I hate that I’m part of what makes you choose between this job and me.”

You hesitate. Then say the truth. “You’re not the choice. The choice is between surviving and falling for someone who makes me forget how hard this world is.”

The silence stretches between you but still, his hand lingers at your side. Your fingers brush his, aching to believe in a moment that doesn’t come with consequences. 

The rumors spread like wildfire–snippets in the morning papers, hushed conversations in dinner booths, sideways glances on the street. The town’s eyes weren’t kind. 

You bury yourself in work, hours stretching into late nights spent under the harsh fluorescent lights. Every brushstroke and contour serves as a desperate plea to prove you’re more than just a disposable cog in the glittering machine of showbiz. But the rules have tightened around you like a noose. You’re forbidden from touching Renjun, from being near him at all in the studio. You’re assigned one of the other Dreamboys instead, Jaemin, the one whose eyes narrow each time he catches your reflection in the vanity mirror, sharp as knives.

One evening after the show, the air thick with exhaustion and stale cigarette smoke, he corners you by the loading dock, where you had promised Renjun you would wait for him. His voice dripped with venom. “You’re just a dirty back-alley fling,” he sneers, eyes gleaming with something meaner than jealousy. Entitlement

You shove Jaemin, knuckles hitting his chest with more force than you thought you had left in you. The hit barely moves him, but it’s not that. It’s about not standing there and taking the words he meant to hurt you with. 

His hand shoots out, grabbing your arm with a grip tight enough to bruise. “You think he’s gonna save you?” His eyes narrowed. “You think being pretty and pitiful means you get to climb your way out of grease and grime? You’re nothing but a leech.” 

The word lands harder than a bruise. Leech. Like you weren’t down here scraping together a life with your own work before anyone like him ever looked at you. Like you didn’t take this job because you needed it, because the bills don’t wait for dreams and hopes.

He spits on your jacket, the wetness soaking through the fabric, cold and sour. “You don’t belong here,” he snarls. 

You rip yourself from his grip, your breath shallow while your cheeks burn with shame that’s not yours to carry. Rage coils in your gut, but it doesn’t have anywhere to go, so you walk. Fast. Past the studio, past the places where Renjun might have been already looking for you. You press a hand to your knuckles, the ache blooming under your skin. 

Everyone saw what they wanted to see. A girl chasing a golden boy for a leg up in the world. A desperate Greaser who got too close to the fire and now deserved to burn. But they didn’t see the long nights, the cracked fingers from mixing color palettes on a budget, the quiet pride you took in your work. They didn’t see that Renjun wasn’t some prize. He was the only person who ever looked at you like you were already someone. 

The world outside may see you as nothing more than a stain on the perfect image they want to protect. But deep inside, under the bruises and the smoke, you vow that this isn’t where your story ends. Not by a long shot. 

Renjun waited behind the studio like you’d agreed, the silence stretching longer than usual. When you didn’t show up, his chest tightened with worry, but he didn’t want to cause a scene. 

So he went looking for you, finding you already seated in a booth at the diner. You were alone in the corner booth, the bruises on your arm hidden beneath the sleeve of your jacket, but the tremble in your hands was impossible to hide. 

Renjun’s footsteps are careful as he slides into the seat across from you. The diner is mostly empty, just a waitress wiping down the counter and a song crackling from the jukebox. You don’t look up right away, you can’t. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I can’t be everything they want me to be,” his words trembling at the edges and his eyes flickering with a vulnerability you rarely see. “But I know I want to be yours.”

You finally lift your gaze, heart twisting in your chest, but you shake your head, pain flashing across your face at all the things he doesn’t understand. “You’re not built for this kind of fight, Renjun. You’re not like me.” Because you grew up learning to keep your head down, how to survive in the gaps of the world. Because you didn’t have the luxury of falling for someone who could burn your whole livelihood down with a kiss in the wrong hallway. And yet he’s here with ink-stained fingers and hopeful eyes, asking you to believe in something so fragile. 

Slowly, he leans in, forehead resting against yours in a quiet promise, his breath warm and trembling. “No, I’m not. But I’d rather be a fool with you than polished and empty without you.”

You want to believe him. God, you do. But the ache in your hand reminds you of the cost. Your gaze drops to your hands, and so does his. He sees the bruised knuckles before you can tuck them away. His breath catches, shoulders going stiff. “What happened?”

You don’t answer, not directly. You watch the way his expression shifts, the fury that pulses under his skin. He’s trying to hold it in, trying not to make it about him. “They don’t want me to love anyone real,” he growls. “Only someone they can market. A perfect girl in a dress with the right smile and no opinions.”

You meet his eyes, something fierce and raw pushing past your walls. “Then why are you still here?”

You stayed because you needed the paycheck, because makeup was a skill you earned, because every time you got close to something good, the world reminded you what you weren’t allowed to have. And yet here he is, with everything to lose, still sitting across from you. 

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, softly, “because maybe, just maybe, I know you’re worth the fight…even if I have to learn how to throw punches.” 

You almost laugh, almost cry. Instead, you just look at him and think maybe, for once, someone actually saw you. Not as a threat, not as a leech, just as a girl who wanted something more. 

You don’t show up to work the following week. No warning, no note, just an absence that was sharp and loud. The other makeup artists avoid saying your name, like it might summon more trouble, like it might make the bruise on your arm appear on their own.

That Tuesday, Renjun goes on stage anyway. Because that’s his job, it’s what he’s supposed to do. The lights feel colder to him now. Harsher. The applause doesn’t hit like it used to, and when he smiles into the camera, it feels fake in a way it never used to bother him. He goes through the motions, but every step feels like walking across thin ice. Thin, brittle, about to crack if he breathes too hard.

He starts showing up to rehearsals with scuffed shoes. His shirt untucked, his hair slightly undone, like he got halfway through styling and couldn't be bothered to sit still any longer before it was finished. His manager glares at him, and the director asks if he’s getting sick. The other Dreamboys don’t speak to him unless they have to. 

You’re there too, eventually. Subdued, backgrounded, careful not to cross lines anymore. At least not publicly. Your work remains professional and impeccable. Your hands don’t shake when you apply powder or smooth flyaways. But you don’t laugh anymore, not with the other girls, not with the crew, not even with Renjun. You nod in passing but avoid his gaze.

Sometimes, just sometimes, when the curtains fall and the stage lights dim, the applause is already fading, you catch him watching you. He watches you like you’re the only thing that matters, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Maybe it won’t last. Maybe the world is too big and cruel and loud for something like this. For the pinky promises and hidden kisses and Tuesday night declarations whispered over chipped diner mugs. 

But that night, when the last number ends and the curtain sways in the dust swirling, illuminated by the spotlight, Renjun walks straight past the dressing room. He finds you by the prop racks and doesn’t say a word. He simply cups your face in ink-stained hands and kisses you like the world was about to end.

And for a second, it feels like it already has. Like the mess and noise can’t touch you, like the cameras aren’t rolling, like you’re just a girl in a leather jacket and he’s just a boy with too much to lose, like none of it matters. 

You kiss him back, sinking into the moment, into him, until a burst of footsteps and familiar laughter cuts through the silence. You break away, peering over Renjun’s shoulder and seeing the other Dreamboys approaching. Panic sparks in your chest, making you go wide-eyed and breathless. “I can’t,” you gasp, and then you’re bolting down the hallway, pushing through the last door, stumbling out into the cool air, and running under the cover of the alley next to the studio. 

You brace yourself against the brick wall, heart racing, eyes stinging. The chill in the night presses hard against your skin, but you don’t care. You just need to breathe and think. To feel like the walls weren’t closing in on you.

You hear the door swing open again. Renjun steps out into the alley, breathing hard, jacket sitting halfway down his shoulders like he didn’t have the time to fix it. His lip is split, and there’s a smudge of makeup across his cheek, like someone grabbed him mid-exit. Maybe one of the boys tried to stop him. 

He didn’t care. He looks wild and alive. “Don’t run from me,” he begs, voice raw. “Please, not now.”

You shake your head, tears blurring the corners of your vision. “Renjun–”

But he’s already reaching for you, already kissing you again. Harder this time, desperate. You taste blood and peppermint, and something sharper. Fear, maybe. Perhaps even defiance. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. Fingers curled tight into the sleeves of your jacket. “I won’t let you go,” he says resolutely. “Not now. Not ever.” 

For the first time, you almost believe him. 

The next Tuesday, the cheers from the audience are still echoing through the studio when Renjun steps offstage, but he doesn’t stop to bow. He doesn’t linger for notes or compliments or photo ops like a proper celebrity would. 

His shoes are creased, his collar slightly crooked, his hair slipping out of place. He’s not polished, not perfect. He’s not performing anymore. He’s feeling.

Renjun runs past the lights, the dressing rooms, the voices calling his name. He continues down the corridors, through the double doors, out into a thick rain that blurs the edges of the world around him. He keeps going, barely stopping at street lights and crosswalks. 

The pavement shimmers under the glow of neon signs. And there you are, exactly where he thought you might be. Leaning against the wall outside the diner, jacket pulled tight, rain clinging to your lashes. You don’t move as he approaches, soaked and breathless. You just look at him, waiting. 

“I’m tired,” his voice breaking through the rain. “I’m tired of playing their golden boy. I’m tired of pretending that the stage is enough.”

You stare at him, heart in your throat. “You sure you’re built for this side of town?”

Renju nods, stepping close. “I’m sure that I don’t fit in here, not yet, at least. But I’ll learn if it means I get to see you past just Tuesdays.”

His words catch between you, settling into your skin, soft and brave. Then you’re kissing him again, right there in the rain, under the pink glow of the diner sign. 

You don’t know what tomorrow looks like. Maybe the world is still too cruel. But maybe you can write something new. Together. One Tuesday at a time.

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Perfect - Z.Chenle

[capseycartwright]

i know it’s not an island for one

Mel wouldn’t say she was keeping an eye on Langdon, exactly. That was the sort of thing that could be easily misinterpreted by the gaggle of gossips she worked with in the pit, and she wouldn’t want that.

No, she was monitoring him – in a very scientific sort of way, thank you very much, because she was a scientist at heart, and she had very scientific, medically driven reasons for glancing across the ED every now and then, seeking Langdon out amongst the chaos of their day-to-day.

ao3 link

Mel wouldn’t say she was keeping an eye on Langdon, exactly. That was the sort of thing that could be easily misinterpreted by the gaggle of gossips she worked with in the pit , and she wouldn’t want that. No, she was monitoring him – in a very scientific sort of way, thank you very much, because she was a scientist at heart, and she had very scientific, medically driven reasons for glancing across the ED every now and then, seeking Langdon out amongst the chaos of their day-to-day.

His first day back had been crazy. Mel wasn’t entirely sure why HR, and Dr. Robby, had signed off on Langdon making his grand return to the emergency department at PTMC on the Fourth of July, one of the worst days of the year to be an emergency medicine practitioner, but they did, and so Langdon had returned post-rehab to fireworks, third-degree burns and a very memorable placement of a pair of barbecue tongs she’d rather not relive the removal of.

Mel remembered the moment he walked back into the ED. She’d seen him plenty, over the months he’d been off, and in rehab, visiting with a stack of books and journals, wanting to do her bit in helping his recovery. They’d connected, that first day in the pit, and so Mel had wanted to keep that connection going, selfishly.

He didn’t look all that different – and maybe that was because she’d seen him twice a month while he was in an in-patient facility, and even more regularly after that, because she’d overheard Princess and Perlah discussing the fact he’d put weight on (Mel had barely restrained herself from reminding her colleagues that weight gain was a normal side effect of getting sober, because she hadn’t been sure that Frank would appreciate her intervention on that on) – but he’d still looked like Frank : bright blue eyes (though a little less bright, if you asked her less-than expert opinion), the floppy boyband hair Dana still teased him for, a pale white line on his finger where his wedding ring used to be, a new bracelet from Millie on his left wrist, and that same aura of confidence she’d come to expect after that one singular day she’d worked with him in the pit.

Now, Mel did not proclaim to be an expert on Frank Langdon – but she wasn’t convinced his confidence was all that sincere. The others didn’t seem to share her concerns, which only made Mel more concerned. She was an incredibly empathetic person, you see, and while it had its downsides, it did mean she was good at being in tune with people’s emotions, and she thought it was quite easy to notice that Frank was not doing as well as he pretended he was.

She didn’t mention it to anyone. Mel knew for sure that was something Frank wouldn’t appreciate her intervention on – but it didn’t stop her from monitoring, taking note of the days where he looked a little more tired, dark circles under his eyes deep set. On days like that, Mel tended to be the one to press a coffee into Frank’s waiting hands, be the one to encourage him to take a break – he was still her senior, only six months behind on his programme, but that didn’t mean it was inappropriate for her to want to look out for him.

They were friends, now.

Frank had reassured her of that one day at the dog park, Becca having taken charge of Nugget (full name Chicken Nugget, named by Tanner and Millie and indulged by Frank) and his afternoon walk, stomping around the park with a purpose as Mel and Frank had sat, and drank their respective teas. Caffeine free, because Frank wasn’t trying to replace one addiction with another, limiting his coffee intake, happy to be guided by Mel’s long list of herbal recommendations.

She liked feeling like she was helping.

Addiction was a lonely illness. That was a fact – one she’d learned in medical school, but one she’d learned over and over in the years since she’d started her in-hospital education, and one she’d certainly learned with Frank. Addicts tend to isolate themselves to hide their addiction, and so when they are trying to get sober, they tend to end up feeling very alone, because they’ve pushed a lot of their closest friends and family away.

Mel didn’t like the thought of Frank being lonely, and maybe she tried to be a little too present in his life to compensate for that, but she didn’t regret it. Frank needed a friend – more than one, really, but Mel could be a starting point, she figured.

Frank wasn’t the most open, about his recovery – he’d cracked a few jokes, made a few surface-level admissions to Mel, but she didn’t know how he was actually doing, not really. He hadn’t even talked about the divorce, offered no explanation for what was happening when he came to work without a wedding ring for the first time.

Mel wasn’t even sure if he was getting divorced, or if it was a separation – though one largely led to the other, she supposed.

She’d never call a day in the pit quiet, or calm, but Mel could admit they were in a bit of a lull moment, no major medical incidents incoming, most of the team occupied with their patients. Maybe that was what made it all the more obvious that Frank wasn’t doing well – or maybe she was just clued into her friend’s emotions – but either way, Mel noticed.

He’d tugged the curtain closed on his patient with shaking hands, Frank’s gaze trained to the floor as he tried to slip out of the pit without anyone noticing.

(Mel noticed. Mel noticed a lot of things.)

Quietly, carefully, Mel checked that Dana’s attention was elsewhere before she followed Frank, grateful she’d worn her less squeaky trainers that day as she tailed him out to the ambulance bay. His arms were folded tightly around himself, as though he was trying to hold himself together through force alone.

It sort of made her heart ache.

“Dr. Langdon?” Mel called out, not wanting to scare the other man when he was clearly upset. He didn’t respond, which worried her more. “Frank?” she tried. She rarely called him Frank to his face – it was always Dr. Langdon, or Langdon, especially at work. She was a little more willing to call him Frank outside of the pit, their burgeoning friendship feeling less fragile outside of their shared workplace, away from prying eyes and gossiping mouths . Calling him Frank felt like something sacred, and special – and Mel wasn’t entirely willing to figure out why that was the case.

Frank turned, and Mel immediately wanted to fold the man into a hug – she didn’t, because she respected consent and boundaries, thank you very much, but she could be forgiven for wanting to offer him a hug when he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking into the material of his scrubs.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him cry before.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked softly. “Did something happen?”

Frank shook his head. “’M fine,” he mumbled, voice thick with tears. “I just needed a minute. I’m all good.”

“Langdon,” Mel chided gently. “You know it’s okay if you’re not all good, right?”

Frank gave her a confused look, which Mel decided was an invitation to step a little closer, pressing a hesitant hand to his elbow.

It’s not like they were particularly touchy-feely friends.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Mel reminded. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, Frank.”

Tears started to bubble at the corner of Franks eyes, and for a second, Mel was afraid she’d said the wrong thing. “I did all of this to myself,” he shook his head again. “I don’t – I don’t get to be upset about it, Mel.”

“Oh, Frank.” Mel’s stupid, annoying, overly empathetic heart ached in her chest. “You have to know that’s not true. I know for a fact that can’t be what your therapist is telling you – and if he is, I think you might need to find a new one,” she tried to joke, feeling oddly successful as a tiny smile tugged at Frank’s downturned expression.

“I just…” Frank paused, for a second. “It was the family, I had just now. The dad with the suspected heart attack.”

Mel waited for him to continue. Interrupting was never helpful.

“He’d been here for less than a half an hour when his family started pouring in – his three kids, a wife who clearly loves him. He’s got this picture-perfect, storybook family, and I was – I was jealous, Mel. I had all of that, and I got hooked on fucking benzos and ruined it all,” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face. “Things have been over, between Abby and I for a long time, and rehab was just the final straw, but I still – my kids aren’t going to have that storybook family now, and it’s my fault.”

“It takes two people to decide to end a marriage,” Mel reminded. She’d never been married, but she was certain a divorce required agreement between both parties. “And look – um – speaking from experience,” she took a long, slow breath. “Two separate happy homes are better than one unhappy home.”

There was a questioning look on Frank’s face, and he clearly wanted to ask her more – and maybe one day, Mel would want to tell him the whole sorry saga, but today didn’t feel like the day, and the ambulance bay didn’t feel like the place.

“I’m scared,” Frank was an empathetic man too, Mel knew, and so he realised she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m scared I won’t be able to give them a happy home with me, Mel. What kind of dad can I be as a recovering addict?”

“A good one.”

Frank fixed her with a look. “I’m serious, Mel.”

“So am I,” Mel countered, shrugging slightly. “Your addiction isn’t some sort of moral failing – addiction is an illness, and one you’re getting help for. Being an addict isn’t your – well, it’s not your defining trait, is it? You are so much more than an addiction to benzodiazepines, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes were still watery, as he smiled, his blue eyes regaining a little of their former brightness. “I like it when you call me Frank.”

Mel felt her cheeks turn obnoxiously pink. She’d find time to be embarrassed about that later. “My point is,” she stressed, giving Frank’s elbow a more confident squeeze. Maybe they could be touchy feely friends. “You’re a good dad, from what I’ve seen. You’re doing all the right things – going to NA meetings, therapy.”

“Then why do I still feel so bad?” Frank sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Because,” Mel tugged at his wrists, not wanting Frank to hurt himself, even accidentally. She held his wrists tightly, fixing him with a serious look. “Life is kind of shit sometimes.”

Frank’s snort of laughter surprised them both. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear, Mel King.”

Mel grinned. “I swear – I’m just a consummate professional, when I’m here.”

Frank’s smile seemed a bit more genuine. “Well then – thank you, for making an exception to your professionalism. I appreciate it,” he paused, for a second. “I’m sorry, for getting so upset over nothing.”

Mel frowned. “Your emotions aren’t nothing – they’re very valid.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, then maybe you should listen to him and stop discounting your own feelings ,” Mel prodded. “I meant it, Frank. It really is okay if you’re not all good. People want to see you succeed here. I want to see you succeed in here.”

“I can’t shake the fear that if I admit to everyone how much I’m struggling, I’ll just prove them all right – that I’m a good for nothing addict who doesn’t deserve to be here .”

Mel didn’t think anyone thought that, but maybe that was something to address another time. “I’m going to hug you, now,” she announced. Consent was important. She waited a second, to see if Frank would protest, but he didn’t. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the woody scent of the cologne he wore, the fresh scent of whatever shower gel he used lingering on his skin.

She felt him press his nose into the space between her chin, and shoulder, his hair tickling her skin. Mel found she didn’t mind, which was both unusual, and something to unpack later, when she was home, alone, breaking into the bottle of wine that had lived in the back of her fridge for weeks now. “You’re not good for nothing,” she hummed, rubbing slow circles across his back, the same way her dad used to when she was little, and she was upset. “I think you’re good for a lot of things, Frank Langdon.”

“Not good enough to stay married to,” Frank mumbled into her shoulder, and Mel’s stomach did something funny at the thought of Frank, and marriage, and happily ever after.

“I think you’ll make a great husband again one day,” Mel decided. “Abby just wasn’t the right person, in the end. You’ll find the right person.”

Frank’s arms tightened around her waist. “I don’t want to go back in,” he admitted.

Mel hummed, barely restraining herself from pressing a kiss to Frank’s hair. Another thing to unpack later. “We can stay out here for five more minutes, then.”

[delicateperspective]

Blind Items

It's going to start making the rounds so here is a helpful little rundown of how blind items usually work.

90% of the "Blind Items" you see nowadays comes from a single source. A website called Crazy Days and Nights, run by a man we call ENTY. He is an entertainment lawyer in LA who has made secrets his entire life. Inside sources from all over feed him information and have for decades.

STILL, the way his website operates, ANYONE can send in anything. ENTY doesn't really publish it unless he trusts it, but it still needs to be taken with a HUGE grain of salt.

The blinds are posted with certain keywords (I'll go over what the relevant ones mean in a minute) to make them easier to guess.

If ENTY feels like he can, the blinds might later be revealed. At that time, he reposts and adds the name to the bottom of the blind. (this has not yet happened with the below blind)

Releavant words here:

"foreign born" - Anyone who is not from the US (where ENTY is based) unless it is Canada ("north of the border") or Mexico ("south of the border").

"yachter" - a woman or man who is paid to spend time with a client. Yachters come in many different forms. From the original definiton of a yachter, which was a person who was paid to go onto a yacht with a rich client and be one of their companions for the duration of the trip. To what it has become today, anyone who purposely takes money or PR promotion to be seen in a relationship with someone with either money or fame. Yachters have been around forever. Some of the most famous include people like Lindsey Lohan, Emily Ratajkowski, Hailey Beiber, and Miranda Kerr. (https://www.stylist.co.uk/long-reads/yachting-hollywood-trafficking/627259)

And a term that isn't here but usually is when this site posts about Louis, "former boybander". ENTY has, in recent years, not always used this label when talking about Harry, but always has when talking about Louis.

Some other things to note about this blind:

I'll say again, this is not yet revealed/confirmed

based on the former blinds this site has ran, it is not out of the realm of possiblitly that he considers Louis in 2017 to have "crashed and burned". At the time, he was running a lot of blinds about drug use and wild antics.

Under this, if you have an account, you can comment your guesses and interact with others from the CDAN community. Some of the guesses are below. Keep in mind that most of these people are NOT fans. These are not larries. They do not know the lore or hold any affection to Louis. This is the general public (though it IS general public that love to check up on gossip).

Several different places pick up on these blinds. Theres a twitter account and a bunch of different tiktoks that report on them (RIP Kyle, we miss you. Thank you for teaching so many about bearding). One of those sites is AGC. They post the blind on their website. They also have a system in which they add context and information.

On AGC, "guesses in italics are only guesses"; however "guesses in RED are a link to the solution or substantial clues."

This is how the blind was posted on AGC:

The black italics are their guess. But the red link is a link to the "solution".

Some notes on the whole thing:

Blinds are NEVER proof of anything. Everything could be fabricated. This could just be ENTY's own opinion of what he thinks is happening. This system of gosssip culture has been around for decades and decades.

But this is PART of the many things happening which show that the conversation about Louis' sexuality is hitting the GP again because of this stunt. Which means antis will be more vicious, the PR teams will navigate, and all we can do is support Louis from the sidelines regaurdless of what he has to do.

[hl-obsessed]

link to original manip

✨ fics i've read in November ✨

.🌸🌸🌸.

Roman Empire by Speechless

(E, 11k) One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

*

“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”

He hears Harry laugh for a moment.

“I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.”

Louis bites back a little smile.

“Have you asked enough people?"

“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren

(E, 5k) I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

✨ Until the Pearls Get Lost by @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k) London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help.

Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

Bloom Just For You by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 7,6k) Marcel decides to get straight to the point. "So I was wondering if you’d be interested in bottoming,” he says.

He glances anxiously over at his boyfriend in time to see Louis’ eyes widen over his mug of tea. There’s a choking sound, and all of a sudden Louis is coughing violently, trying to draw in a breath as his tea goes down the wrong way.

“Oh my– oh my god, Louis!” Marcel yells, panicked.

~

Marcel has never been happier; he has a job he loves, a boyfriend he adores, and a sex life with said boyfriend that exceeds his wildest of fantasies. But there’s one thing he and Louis haven’t yet tried in the bedroom. And he can’t get the thought out of his head...

No Surprises by @louislittletomlintum

(E, 21k) “I smoke socially, sometimes. Depends who I’m with,” Harry shrugged, taking another puff. Louis watched his soft little lips wrap around it and purse just slightly on the inhale. It wasn’t the first time he considered if Harry was perfectly made just to torment him.

“Hm. I won’t send you to jail for now, then. On crimes of fibbing,” Louis decided benevolently. He was about to open his mouth to spout off some other shite before he saw Harry had a bit of a pensive look in his features despite how his eyes were a little glassy.

“Lou,�� he began, and god Louis loved that he’d earned that little nickname off of him. “Can I ask you summat?” Harry added, tapping the ash of the cigarette in the tray before taking another puff.

“You just did,” Louis smiled because Harry walked right into that one. “But I’ll give you another,”

“How did you know you were queer?”

or; an office au where louis is a loveable brat and harry is working himself out

You're Not Harry Styles (or are you?) by @bluegreen28fics

(E, 20k) Singer Louis Tomlinson finally meets his crush - ex-boybander Harry Styles - on a late night talk show after he recently released a hit single mentioning Harry. They hit it off and fall in love.

Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl

(E, 40k) They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

***

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

✨💎 To Fight For Freedom by @snowy38

(E, 112k) It was snowing when he went down.

His sturdy and well-worn hiking boots were tied snugly to his socked feet; the knee-high thick black fabric keeping his legs warm to almost the point his pleated kilt rested just above his knees. Almost, because there was still a good four inches of skin bared to the elements.

His father had told him he had no need to wear the traditional uniform, but Harry knew better than to believe him. In fact, the only reason his father would say such a thing was because he would rather see him in anything other than an item of clothing which resembled a skirt. The reasons for his reservations may well be justified but Harry couldn’t think about that right now.

It was snowing and he’d been shot.

✨ Into the Woods (series) by mystic_believexx

(M, 44k) The one where the future Alpha of the Tomlinson pack imprints on the human, Harry Styles.

(warning❗this story is unfinished, last update in 2017. it's so easily to fall in love with it and have your heart broken 💔)

✨ amaryllis by @hattalove

(E, 146k) "Where are we?"

"Um. A little while out of London?" Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh.

"London London? As in, the capital of England London?" he asks, just in case he'd misheard.

"No, the other London," Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. "Sorry, Pup."

Nobody's ever called Harry a "pup". Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

***

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

'Sup by @mediawhorefics

(G, 6,7k) Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

***

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

Can't Imagine You Without The Same Smile In Your Eyes by @galacticlarry

(T, 4k) It’s been over a week since Harry’s first semester at university began, and he has had zero new exciting friendships or noteworthy experiences, just a bizarre dream that keeps waking him up in the middle of the night.

What happens when the boy with the pretty blue eyes from his psychology class catches his eye and starts occupying his mind?

Art of seduction by harrysprostate

(E, 13k) “Besides, I have a fiancé.”

“Does your fiancé know where you are right now?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He knows I’m out with a friend.”

Harry blinked. “A friend?”

“What, engaged people can’t have friends?”

Harry chuckled at that and shook his head very slowly. He took his time to answer, even shifted in his seat and made sure that they were making eye contact first. “Oh Louis, we’re not going to be friends.”

Louis just smirked.

~or the one where louis is engaged but that doesn't stop harry from seducing him~

✨ my kingdom for a kiss (tonight you're on my mind) by leighbot

(E, 30k) “Oh fuck, I’m going to have to tell my mum,” Louis says, closing his eyes.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment until Harry starts breathing heavily. “I’m going to have to tell the Queen,” he says, “and my mum.”

 Or, the one where Zayn and Louis make a friendly wager and it goes too far, Harry's a baker with a heart of gold and really great hair, Liam is an overworked PA who just wants to enjoy his holiday and Niall is completely at ease, as always. An accidentally married AU mixed with a splash of modern royalty.

Still Dreaming ‘Bout You by @ireallysawanangel

(T, 3k) Harry doesn’t pay much attention to football. That’s proven even more apparent when the biggest football star in the UK walks into his juice bar and he doesn’t even notice. He does start to take notice when that football star keeps coming back.

✨ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

✨ This World's Ashes by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 34k) The man stares at him, and all Harry can hear is his own heartbeat, racing.

Then the stranger turns away. He walks a few paces and bends down, picking up a large knife from the ground and shoving it into a pouch attached to his belt.

“I won’t hurt you, you know.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to the man’s face. He’s looking at Harry sincerely, palms held up as though in surrender. There’s still a knife in his right hand, though, so Harry is only slightly reassured.

Harry swallows to combat the dryness of his throat, and then says, “I won’t hurt you either.”

***

A post-apocalypse AU where Harry, battling his past as he survives in the woods, has learnt not to trust anyone except his dog. Then Louis crashes into his life, with his bright spirit and soft lips, pulling Harry from the depths of a loneliness he hadn’t realised he was drowning in. But there is danger lurking, and Harry’s not the only one wrestling with his past.

✨ no faith left to lose by @louieshalo

(M, 7k) Louis shoves an album booklet — Harry’s album booklet — into Harry’s hands, folded open to a familiar page. “I need you to tell me that that goddamn song is not about me.” His voice cracks a little in his vehemence, and ice fills Harry’s veins as he glances down at the creased page.

He doesn’t need to look closely to know what it is Louis is talking about — the title is printed plainly on the page, Second Chances, along with every incriminating lyric, line by line. It’s his most blatant offense off the entire album, probably; sickeningly indulgent and too obviously vulnerable to even defend himself against. The song is a surface-level dip into the fantasy world Harry toys with when the ache of loneliness gets to be too much in the middle of the night, the brief glimpse already toeing over the boundary he’d promised himself he’d set for his career.

Most damning, though, is the tiny embossed dedication at the bottom of the page;

“For who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid,” Louis recites, looking expectantly at Harry. “What the fuck does that mean?

***

or, the one where they miss each other more than anything.

.🌸🌸🌸.

part 1 (+50k) ✨💐 part 2 (30-50k) ✨🥀 part 3 (10-30k)

part 4 (< 10k) ✨🪷 part 5 (monthly rec) ✨💐

[alrightoddity]

OMG OOPS forgot the link for it on the other post

[matchalovertrait]

I'm not too sure we can convince Frankie to come with us...

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

FRANKIE: Grab a snack if you’d like, but don’t touch the last chocolate bar. That’s mine.

ANTONIO: Is any of this radioactive?

FRANKIE: Oh, do you legitimately want to become Spider-Man?

ANTONIO: No...

[Antonio tried making fun of Frankie, but they returned it by reminding him of his participation in Operation Fox, making him feel sheepish.]

[He didn’t regret that night at all, he was just a tad embarrassed about running around in a Spider-Man costume to steal back a notebook for Dulce, the woman he had feelings for.]

[At least he looked good doing it? He’d been told he has a handsome face – not by Dulce, unfortunately.]

[Would she agree with that, though? You know what, it was definitely a good thing he didn’t kiss her at the park afterwards. Judging by Caruso and his boyband haircut, he might not even be her type.]

FRANKIE: Didn’t think so. You’re afraid of heights.

[What? Oh, right. Spider-Man. Next subject. Now.]

ANTONIO: Does your mom even live in the same place still?

FRANKIE: You’ll be the one to discover that, so you tell me once you get cell service again over there.

ANTONIO: Is it possible she moved back to the island after years spent on the mainland?

FRANKIE: Perhaps.

ANTONIO: And how accurate is this map?

FRANKIE: It’s unerring. I have a satellite.

ANTONIO: How on earth do you have a satellite?

FRANKIE: It’s not on earth, silly. It’s in an atmospheric layer.

ANTONIO: You know what I meant...

[Frankie cackled as they turned back around to check the laptop screen.]

FRANKIE: No!!!!!

ANTONIO: What happened?

FRANKIE: The damned jungle is so dense that my satellite can’t penetrate through! This is terrible.

ANTONIO: Yeah... truly terrible for nature to thrive.

[Antonio replied in a sarcastic tone.]

FRANKIE: I didn’t mean it in a tree-killing way! I’m merely speaking out of surprise. I estimated it would take longer to recover from the deforestation.

ANTONIO: So, are you coming with me?

FRANKIE: Absolutely not. Here, I’ll draw the map from memory.

ANTONIO: Oh, damn.

FRANKIE: No, no, trust me. I remember the way.

ANTONIO: No, I’m talking about this text. Another baby registry link was sent to me.

FRANKIE: Excellent! Let’s take you shopping for baby essentials and exploration supplies. Don’t ever say I don’t help you with anything.

[sebadztian]

I have a bit of a random question? Why is green witch arc considered the s*bac*el arc? I don't mind the arc, but I'm just afraid non-manga reading fans are going to heavily ship Ciel & Sieglinde due to their ages. If anything I think it will cause a bigger rift amongst the ship/fandom. I personally found something like the Book of the Atlantic to be more SC coded, so I was just curious if there was something crucial I wasn't understanding?

Hello, anon!

So sorry it took me ages to answer your ask.

Essay below...

Right, I can see why people might see GWA as Cielinde and if they see it that way, that's totally valid. Will it create more discourse in the fandom? I don't know.

However, for me personally, when I first read this arc (that was BEFORE I got into Sebaciel), I actually ended up shipping Sieglinde/Wolf 😔🙃

But why I see GWA as Sebaciel coded is because this is where their relationship takes a big leap forward. I talked about it in this post and this one too.

I can see why you see BoA as more Sebaciel coded, and no, you're not missing anything. And I agree with you. Both arcs are Sebaciel coded (almost the entire manga is SC coded if you want to see it that way), but they're different.

In Book of Atlantic, we see their past, how they learned to be an earl and his butler from a spare and a demon, as shown in Sebas' cinematic record.

In the 'Tango on the Campania' (the musical) Sebastian made it even more clear that at the beginning of their contract, Ciel was just 'any other child' and Seb himself was 'just a demon'.

At the end of his record, we see how Sebas chose to serve Ciel because he's fascinated by his beauty and his foolishness.

In GWA, it was Ciel's turn to choose Sebastian as shown in these panels.

Add those to the posts that I've linked above, I think we can say that this arc plays a very significant role in the development of SC relationship.

The way I see it, BoA is the basic foundation of their relationship, mostly in relation to their past. It was also the first time that Sebas realized that he could lose Ciel.

GWA builds on that and it solidifies their relationship. This is necessary, and even important, to prepare them for the future (The Boyband arc, the Zombie Brother arc, and the rest of the manga).

If what happened in GWA hadn't happened the way they did, Sebas wouldn't have realized how much he cared about Ciel.

In GWA, he almost lost Ciel (again) and this time, it was worse because this time round, he had to depend on others (Sieg & Finny) to save & take care of his master. For once, he was powerless, and more importantly, Ciel has rejected him. Without those events, he wouldn't have realized just how important Ciel is to him and it also takes him down a peg or two and I'm always down for that.

On Ciel's part, without GWA, he wouldn't have been able to face his zombie brother like he did. It was during his... inner turnoil that he realized why he's doing this and it was then that he has chosen Sebas, above his own family, above his trauma, his guilt, and even his brother.

This is an important turning point and a big leap for the both of them, both individually and as a unit. They went through their own individual character development in relation to each other, unlike in BoA where they both developed together as a team.

So, yes, both Book of Atlantic and GWA are Sebaciel coded, but in different ways.

Also, the result of GWA? My most favourite panels in the entire manga...

My point is, there is no right or wrong answer/way in looking at each arc. What I share with you here is just my own way of looking at this arc through Sbcl lens. Some people might look at it differently and they might not even see the significance of GWA in relation to Sebaciel, and that's completely okay.

Thabk you for the ask!

[jqmalikhsgib]

sea view

two

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varietymagazine “fame just got to my head,” styles starts. “it was all my fault. im the reason my family was almost broken.” click the link in our bio to learn more about harry styles life, music, and more!

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Harry Styles: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly! 

When we hear the name Harry Styles, most of us scream our lungs out. The ex One Direction member holds our hearts in his hands without batting an eyelash.

Harry Styles was born in Worcestershire, England February First to Anne Twist and Des Styles making Gemma Styles an older sister. Harry would describe his childhood like any other.

“I was just a normal kid, playing football in my backyard,” he states. “I’d make fun of my sister while she called me a butthead before we’d go and watch something on the telly.”

Styles opens up about being a child from divorce. “My mom and dad had problems. They’d fight here and there and Gem and I would just hold each other in one of our rooms. My parents finally decided enough was enough and separated. I was ten years old, somewhat heartbroken but ultimately relieved.”

When Harry was eleven he met the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen. She’d just moved from America with her dad and five older brothers. The moment Harry saw her, he just knew!

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of yn. She was breathtaking. I had to get to know her!”

Harry and Yn relationship begins when they were only twelve years old. From that moment they were each others first love. Harry states he’s never felt love like the one he’s had with YN.

Harry opens up about his personal life with his wife and his kids. Including the moment they became teen parents.

“We were young and dumb. The only thing we were thinking about was each other. When she called me crying, telling me she’s pregnant, we were just about to hit fourteen. We’d just started high school and we were scared shitless. I ended up getting a job at the local bakery and our parents helped us as much as they could. When our son was born we never felt so much pride and joy. We created this tiny little human out of love. Nothing has ever made either of us feel more proud.” Styles goes on to say.

Harry then talks about his dream of being a singer. He opens up about how silly he thought it was, but how his mom, sister, and wife talked him into auditioning for the X-factor.

“If it weren’t for my family, I would have never went to that audition! My mom and sister always encouraged me to live my dream. In my head it was a given. ‘Of course they’ll say this, im their son and brother.’ I thought to myself. But YN wasn’t either, I guess it was different when I heard it from her.”

Styles smiles as he discussed how he use to sing their son [Corbin Styles] to sleep. “He’d have this huge smile on his face. Every single time he’d close his eyes, he’d fight his sleep just so he could hear me sing. That’s really when I knew, I gotta audition!”

In that moment, Harry’s life changed forever! He was apart of the biggest boyband in the world, One Direction. Being put into a group with four other boys [Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, and Zayn Malik] Harry talks about his relationship with each band member.

“Being put into a group with four different boys was difficult, sure! Of course it was exciting and love there in the beginning. We’re just five boys who had the same dream. But we’re also five boys with five different personalities, five different voices, five different views of the world, five different love stories. We bumped heads a lot, especially towards the end,” Styles states. “I think after four years of constant tour, no breaks, arguments, screaming, and barely seeing our families, we were all kinda done. At this moment I was married to YN, she was pregnant with payton, so I wanted to be there for her and both of our kids more. Louis was about to have his own baby, Liam was dealing with his own battles, Niall had family troubles, and Zayn had left the band. We were all kinda worn out. It was time we ventured out on our own and see where life would take us. In a way, it made our relationship better. Niall, Louis, and Liam are all uncles to my children. Zayn was my best friend in the band, he was named god-dad.”

We asked Harry about his first album, how it came about. “It was simple really! I’ve been writing my own music for a long time. I went to Jamaica with my wife and kids and it was lovely. I put together my own band, figured out which songs I wanted out there, and once it was ready, we set a date and even prepared for tour.” Harry smiles at the memory. Though it never reached his face.

This is when we asked him about his second album. Fine Line had been release two years after his self titled album, Harry Styles. Hearing it makes your heart break.

Harry talks about his relationship with wife. He opens up about his arrogance, ignorance, and his affair[s].

“I’m not gonna sugar coat it, I was a shit husband for a long time,” Harry tells us. “The moment we made it big, I’d get this big head and think, ‘fuck im the shit!’ so many women wanted me and would do anything to have me. I was weak and stupid. They all knew I was married with kids, I never hid that from my fans or obviously the women id sleep with.” Harry takes a deep breath. “YN and I would constantly argue. She’d cry herself to sleep at night when I didn’t come home or back to our hotel room when the boys and I were on tour. I remember when she packed her bag and left me.”

Harry wipes his tears before he continues. “It was around the last few legs of tour. I’d been sorta seeing at least two women regularly. [for privacy reasons harry didn’t mention names] She wrote me a note, stating she couldn’t do this anymore. She told me I either needed to get my shit together or she’d divorce me and get full custody. In this moment I knew, I needed to find myself again. Once tour was over, I flew to Japan, took a few friends, began the process of writing fine line, and went to therapy. I was gonna do everything in my power to get my family back together. from there, YN, me, and the kids would work on our new dynamic. I was slowly getting my family back.” Harry states.

Harry opens up about how a lot of the fans blamed YN during the time they’d been split up.

“I wanna clear this up, YN had nothing to do with our split. A lot of people assumed she’d been the one cheating or using me. She was always faithful and couldn’t care less if I had millions or pennies. She loved me for me. Fame just got to my head,” Styles starts. “It was my fault. I’m the reason my family was almost broken.”

YN has been known to be vocal to people who constantly hate on her. Harry opens up about the relationship she has with his fanbase.

“I think if you can’t respect your favorite artist relationship, you’re not a real fan. Truth is, YN is my wife. I almost lost her years ago, I’m not gonna lose her over something so petty. She’s the mother of my children and my wife. People should respect that!” Styles states. He continues to talk about her social media comments and post.

“She can do whatever she wants! I don’t control her, nor does my team! YN has always been very open when it comes to our marriage. She’s not gonna sensor herself simply because others can’t get the hint. That’s one of the many things I love about her!” Styles finished.

During our interview, Harry opens up about his next album before he leaves.

“The next albums gonna be filled with more love than anything. I think this one will be filled with dancing, smiles, and laughter. I’m really excited to share it with the world.” Harry states before he politely shakes our hands and walks over to his family.

[the--silent-hero]

On-Lyne vs. Link!

A (infested) boyband vs. a Pop-Star Void Kid!

I'm trying to work on a music mash of 2 songs but i'm horrible at it so if anyone want to help out, would appreaciate it! :>