#maybe one day i will face the music again

[lazysoulwriter]

What Love is Supposed to Feel Like. - Pedro Pascal.

requested! hope u really like it. and remember: to be loved is to be respected.

The film set was buzzing with quiet activity as the crew prepared for the next scene. You sat in a chair off to the side, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, until a notification lit up the screen.

Your stomach dropped. It was a DM—from him.

"I cheated on you two times and you keep coming back. Do I need to do it a third time for you to develop some self-respect?"

A sharp inhale caught in your throat. Your hands trembled as you stared at the message, disbelief warring with the dull ache of betrayal. You thought you had gotten past this. Thought that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But no. He had done it again. And this time, he was mocking you for staying.

"Hey."

Pedro's voice was warm, gentle. You hadn't noticed him approaching, but now he crouched down beside you, his eyes flicking between your face and the phone in your grip. "What’s going on?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words lodged in your throat. Tears blurred your vision as you exhaled shakily. Without thinking, you handed him the phone. He read the message, and the softness in his expression hardened into something else. Anger. Concern.

"You don’t deserve this," he murmured, setting your phone down on the table next to you. His hand found yours, grounding you. "You hear me? No one deserves this. Especially not you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Pedro sighed, squeezing your hand before tugging you into a hug. It wasn’t rushed or awkward—just warm and steady, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. Like safety.

"He's an asshole," Pedro muttered into your hair. "And I swear, if I ever see him—"

A watery laugh escaped you. "You’d fight my ex for me?"

"Absolutely," he said without hesitation, pulling back just enough to look at you. "But more importantly, I’d remind you every day that you deserve better."

Months later, you realized just how right he was.

You sat curled up on Pedro’s couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders as the soft hum of music filled the space. He absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, his touch soothing and familiar. The past felt like a distant memory, a chapter closed.

"You seem happy," he mused, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You turned to him, heart swelling at the warmth in his gaze. "I am."

His smile was slow, teasing. "Think it has anything to do with me?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny it. "Maybe just a little."

Pedro chuckled, his fingers tilting your chin up before kissing you—slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world to remind you how loved you were.

And for the first time in a long time, you knew you had found something real.

One evening, as you both sat on the balcony of his apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, he turned to you with a serious expression. "Do you ever think about him anymore?"

You sighed, looking out at the skyline. "Not in the way I used to. There were nights where I’d lie awake, wondering what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t enough. But now... now I know it was never about me. It was about him. His choices. His flaws. Not mine."

Pedro nodded, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I’m glad you see that. Because you are more than enough. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from gratitude. Happiness. You leaned into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. "Thank you," you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "For what?"

"For showing me what love is supposed to feel like."

Pedro's arms tightened around you. "Anytime, mi amor. Anytime."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Haechan x f!idol!reader

summary: what better way to promote your new music than to do an interview with your boyfriend?! Does he know that? No!

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were grinning widely as you sat in the pink chair. You bowed to the camera introducing yourself with an excited smile, "Hi everybody! I'm so excited to be here today. The staff and I have planned a bit of a prank today."

Your friendship with Haechan had started when you debuted. Haechan was one of the first idols around your age that you felt comfortable with. He was funny, nice, and was a good friend. He gave you a lot of advice on how to handle the long days, how to speak up with your company, and how to take care of yourself when it all got to be too much. And perhaps... taking care of yourself meant indulging in your friendship with Haechan, in private and in public.

The fans had surprisingly been pretty cool about both of you being close. It wasn't very often that fans got to see two idols from different companies have a genuine friendship. They liked seeing the two of you play around backstage, the random mention of each other in YouTube vlogs or lives, and the very few and far between posts you shared of each other.

When the edits evolved from 8 whole minutes of the two of you being the best of friends to the both of you being secretly in love for 11 minutes, maybe, just maybe, you both began to see each other in a new way. Maybe you guys went on a date to test the waters and maybe that date meant that the two of you became something more and maybe this video would be one of the first times you both directly acknowledged your romantic relationship. Well, beyond standard wordy posts that your companies put out to disclose your relationship.

You smile at the camera, "today I will be pranking my boyfriend Haechan. He thinks he's doing this interview with someone else and has no clue its me!"

Finally, on the other side of the wall, enters the set and sits himself in the blue chair, "Hello, I am Haechan from NCT. Today I will be using the screen name Sunshine and I am excited to figure out my partner is. I think I'll figure it out very easily."

On your side of the wall you, cup a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle, "I'm going to be so annoying!"

"Hey," you type, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing.

"Oh, it's starting!" you hear Haechan exclaim. You phone vibrates with a message that reads, 'hey.'

"Geez, he's really boring isn't he? Let's make this more exciting!" You laugh, typing back something you don't think you'd ever tell your boyfriend to his face, "wow, I know this is a handsome man I'm talking to. Tell me, are you handsome?"

Haechan flushes in front of the pink wall with his jaw dropped in shock, "w-what?!"

You calm down a bit, not being as bold with your flirtation so that the both of you could progress the conversation. You both make small talk, talking about base level interests. Then comes the home screen exchange. You'd been preparing for this!

Since no one ever really saw your homescreens, you and Haechan had decided to have cute matching backgrounds, a cute couples selfie you'd taken together. What he didn't know, and you didn't tell him because he was so whiny, was that you had changed it. So he sent you an blurred version of his usual background, a picture of the two of you with you biting his cheek and his eyes screwed shut laughing. You knew the picture well, not only because you lived it but also because you had the picture that followed as your own background before you changed it for this interview.

Haechan's phone dropped from his hands, eyes blown wide in shock again. The staff were busy laughing behind the camera while you sat with a smug smile, listening for his reaction. "Is this real? Is this actually your background?" You read the message that had been sent to you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You message him back.

Haechan doesn't even look at his phone again, he locks his screen and sets it on his thigh. He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, "how do you turn someone down nicely?"

You bite your lip when you hear that. Your plan had worked, your precious Haechan was flushed and embarrassed. You type back, "do you know NCT Haechan? He's so talented and funny. I'm a big fan, are you?"

"Yeah, it couldn't be more obvious," Haechan grumbles, staring at the homescreen. He can't look at any of the apps or notifications because he's staring at his own face! A collage of pictures of him-- only him. Pictures of him from his debut to pictures of him from his last performance.

Maybe he was speaking to some kind of comedian, it was some kind of joke that happened to revolve around him. He'd watched some of these interviews before and it never worked out that one person knew who they were texting and the other didn't. This had to be some kind of strange coincidence.

He somehow expertly turned the conversation around, evading your question and changed the conversation into something more lighthearted. Then comes the first Would You Rather. The question: would you rather make a burping sound while farting or farting sound while burping?

You take a second to think, considering the question then finally send your answer, "I think I'd rather make a farting sound while burping."

"Really?" Haechan replies, "why is that? I mean I agree, but I'm curious to hear your reasoning?"

"Tell me yours first," you reply.

"Well mostly I don't want to feel the rumbling feeling of a burp in my butt," Haechan types out.

"He's so gross," you mutter as you read the screen, "he's such a guy." And yet you type out a message, "wow, that's so manly of you.."

Haechan runs his hand through his hair, "how would someone read that and find it attractive?"

Again, he doesn't address your flirting. He maneuvers around it, he doesn't want to be the guy that hurts yours or anyone's feelings, even a stranger's.

By the time the both of you get to the end of the interview having just sent the most recent pictures in your camera roll to each other, Haechan feels a horrible ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. You had sent him a picture of a flower from some bush outside and he had sent you a picture of the products that had been used on his face before the interview. (He'd sent the picture to you.) How is he going to handle this?!

He looks up from yet another flirty message with a look of unease, "you guys don't do these things with crazy fans right?"

The staff reassure him that no, they absolutely would not ever do anything to put him or anyone else in harm's way. His partner is just a silly person, a jokester.

You, on the other hand, are a ball of excitement to reveal yourself. The time comes to meet your partner, though you already know yours. You prop yourself on the wall, one hand outstretched against the wall and the other on your hip.

Haechan rounds the corner and sees you. You flip your hair, winking at him with a, "hey, handsome."

He falls to his knees, hand clutched over his heart while he lets out a sigh of relief and a loud exaggerated whine, "how could my own lover do this to me?!"

It takes both you and the staff to calm Haechan down, but you eventually get him to sit in the chair of the high top table and get the frown off his face. He's still pouty of course, and he lets you know so, "how could you do this to me?"

"With the help of my managers, your managers, the production here at Kode... duh," you answer, squeezing his knee beneath the table reassuringly.

"You're so funny," he deadpans, "but seriously, I was so stressed that I was going to have to see a real life crazy person and turn them down while maintaining my safety. Thank goodness it was a real life crazy person I already knew."

You shove his shoulder with a laugh, "so you had no clue who it was?"

"Absolutely no clue," Haechan confirms, "I did think that this was going to be easy at first, but you came on so strong that I had to mostly focus on getting us to have a normal, not flirty conversation. Did you have fun stressing me out, my menace?"

"The best time ever," you nod with a proud smile.

Haechan lets out a breathy laugh, more of a soft exhale of air as he pulls your hand up and pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, "I'm never doing an interview with you ever again."

"You say that now, but you're my biggest fan. Don't you want me to be successful? How can I be successful if even my handsome, sunbaenim boyfriend won't help me?" You tease, looking at him with a look all too innocent to be real.

"Oh right. Please make sure to check out my girlfriend's first solo debut. The music is amazing, her voice sounds like angels singing, the music videos are award winning, the outfits are out of this world and there is nothing like it in all the world. Please support her... or I will have to," Haechan states with a fake smile while looking right into the lens of the camera, letting his smile drop into a pleading face for the ending.

"Yes, please make sure to check out my solo! I appreciate it," you smile at the camera, bowing to show your gratitude. While you fulfill your promoting duties you miss the adoring look on Haechan's face. The way his eyes soften and he looks at you with a calm, serene look of love.

You look at him with a soft smile, "can you forgive me for my prank?"

He tugs you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, "I can make an exception if you promise this will be the last time you prank me."

"Well, of course," you answer too quickly. A lie, of course.

The conversation between you dwindles down and the two of you take your selfie. You smile brightly at the camera with your head tucked beneath Haechan's chin, Haechan smiles sweetly at the camera with his usual close-lipped smile. It's the first selfie as a romantic couple that anyone will see of the two of you and it makes you slightly nervous, but more than anything you're excited for people to see just a sliver of the dynamic you and Haechan share, the love that's there.

"Thank you to the team at Kode for having us and thank you to the fans in advance for all the love and support. I hope you love it," you smile at the cameras.

The video ends with the screen fading to black, but if fans listen closely, they can hear Haechan reassuring you, "everyone is going to love it, honey. How could they not love anything you do?"

[lieslab]

If we could only turn back time

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.1K

Trigger warning: Misunderstood trope, physical assault, anger, yelling, a car accident, plus graphic descriptions of physical injuries, and doctors/hospitals.

A/N: I had three hours of sad One Direction music, one request, and a dream. Requestee, you asked for angst and I have given it my all. I hope this meets every expectation and more <3

_ _ _

You were the light of Bang Chan’s life. At least, that’s what he thought. For months, his love grew for you. Over time, he opened up more and more. You crawled into his heart and made yourself at home. 

And then you tore it open. 

He thought he finally had the love of his life, but it turns out, you were just like the others. Not really loving him, but dragging along, clinging onto clout, and when the next man came, you jumped with both feet. You didn’t even say goodbye, but neither did he. 

There was no warning for either of you. One day, the two of you were head over heels for each other. The next, everything fell apart. Hearts cracked like stained glass. Tears fell, but the words from both of you didn’t provide the comfort the other so desperately craved. 

In the end, two hearts ripped apart. The world tipped in the wrong direction. You both lost your footing and for weeks, nothing would be the same for either of you, ever again. 

~ ~ ~ 

When you came home from buying groceries, the apartment was quiet, like usual. Chan’s warm presence had been gone since this morning. Up at the crack of dawn, he disappeared to continue making his dreams come true. 

You missed him when he was gone, just as he missed you, but dreams were important. No matter what happened between the two of you, it was the one thing you both agreed that it was important. No matter where your life took you, the most important thing was keeping focused on your dreams. 

Yes, the two of you were in love, but that wasn’t stopping either of you from pursuing your passions. Not yet engaged, the two of you vowed to be supportive of each other. Through thick and thin, in the risky moments, and everything in between; you swore to be there for one another. 

Your bare feet glided across the tile floor with ease. Without Chan, the apartment felt empty, but that didn’t stop you from trying to make it feel warm and fuzzy. Over on the side counter, you turned on the candle warmer. Maybe by the time Chan got home, the apartment would be full of a welcoming vanilla buttercream. 

You swore his cologne had hints of vanilla. He disagreed with you and insisted you didn’t know your scents. Just to prove a point, you bought the vanilla candle, and yet, he refused to see it.

He could be stubborn like that sometimes. Certain things he couldn’t see. No matter how hard and how obvious you attempted to make these things, he refused to see them. Sometimes, it was more frustrating than anything, but you learned to deal with every part of him; the good and the bad. 

You had your own set of flaws, too. Out of everyone existing in the world, there was nobody that you wanted to be with more than Chan. The two of you were still so young. There was a lifetime of adventures and fun to have. You were hoping the relationship between the two of you would last forever. 

It ended when Chan stormed through your front door. The bang of the front door slamming against the sidewall sent your heart racing. You grabbed a can of peas for defense and held your breath. 

Footsteps stormed through your living room. Your fingers turned pale around the can. A sigh of relief fell from you when you saw the furrow on Chan’s face. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me. What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” 

You put down the can and walked towards him. Your hands stretched out to grab his face. To your surprise, he swatted them away. Your eyes widen at the faint sting. “What are you-” 

“You don’t get to baby me after what you did!” 

“I-I did something? What did I-” 

“Shut up! You don’t get to pretend like you don’t know! You know I’ve felt like a piece of shit because I can’t be here twenty-four-seven! You know I travel for work and yet you still choose to hurt me in the worst way possible!” 

Confusion filled your face and it just pissed him off more. He jerked his Samsung phone from his pocket. You watched as he typed in the password. Your actions from the past few days rolled through your head like stop-motion. Each silent click, more scenes filled your head. 

None of them stood out. You couldn’t recall what you did wrong, but Chan was furious. Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. He flipped the screen to find the bold words of a Dispatch article. Your heart hit the ground with a sickening splat. 

Trouble in paradise: A Rocky Road Ahead For Stray Kids’ Bang Chan’s Romantic Relationship. 

Attached, two photos of you grinning at another JYP idol from another group. In one, you were waving at them. In another, you were leaning over and hugging them. 

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

“Really? Because you know what it looks like to me? It looks like you were attempting to hide a close relationship with someone in a younger group.” 

“That’s not true! Chan, it’s Dispatch! You can’t possibly believe that I-” 

“I want you out of my apartment.” 

Your face fell at his words. “You…you wouldn’t. Please, just let me explain and I-” 

“When have you ever talked about him? Never! You’ve never been close to another idol! Yet now, you’re hugging him?” 

“Chan, please!” 

“Get out!” 

“But-” 

“Out!” His voice raised. “Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my apartment! Don’t bother coming back!” 

The words were loud enough to frighten you. You left the grocery bags scattered on the kitchen island and took off. Tears filled your eyes. You wanted to explain, but he kept cutting you off. 

Too heated to think about the situation, his insecurities got the best of him. In the kitchen, he slumped against the counter with his head in his hands. Warm tears filled his eyes at the sound of your sniffles. 

He wanted to comfort you, but the hurt was too much. He grew to love you with everything he had and within one Dispatch article, his swollen heart popped. How could you do this to him? After everything the two of you had been through, why did you have to ruin it? 

Tears blurred your vision and you didn’t look back. You jerked items from the closet and tossed them in your suitcase. Grabbing handfuls from each of your dresser drawers, you tossed them in with everything. Even the toiletries, you didn’t have time to organize them. 

Chan wanted you to go, so you’d leave. At the end of the day, this was his apartment. You paid rent, but his name was the first on the contract. He paid the down payment, not you. 

You gave him one last desperate look as you passed by, but he didn’t see it. His name fell from your mouth in a weak croak, but he didn’t pull his hands from his eyes. “Please, just go away.” 

You spun around, gripped your suitcase tighter, and then you did. 

~ ~ ~ 

All night, you drove around without a destination in mind. You refused to call one of Chan’s members and plead for help. It’d only stir up drama in the group. That was the last thing you wanted. 

Numbness hung over your head. You still couldn’t believe everything that happened a few hours ago. If he would have listened, he would have understood. The tears dried up a while ago, but the empty feeling in your chest didn’t go away. 

Seoul’s late afternoon crept into another dark night. Gray blotted skies drifted into a pitch black. Neon lights reflected off the paint on your car, but the warm colors didn’t warm your heart. 

The car felt lonely without Chan. You’d give anything to hear his laughter from beside you. The playful banter while he reminded you to turn on the correct turn signal. It’d been a constant inside joke between the two of you. Ever since you accidentally flicked on the wrong signal and turned the wrong way, he’d never let it go. 

The way he tipped his head forward. Messy tendrils of dark hair fell over his forehead. His squeaky laugh warmed your heart. Such a far comparison from the anger that rattled the apartment walls earlier. 

You poked his dimples between the stoplights. On nights when the two of you wanted to get away from everyday life, you found peace in this car. You’d drive and be in control for once. He’d sit beside you with a hand on your thigh. 

Simple conversations filled the car. Love pooled between the two of you. Shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the secret getaway that your car provided you’d do anything to turn back time. 

You loved him for a reason. You always had and you always would. Just because photos told one story, it didn’t mean they told the entire story. Snippets didn’t capture the truth. The context was important, but Chan was too distraught tonight. 

Too stressed out. Too angry. Too frustrated. Things built up and that article was the breaking point. Those photographs became thorns in your relationship. In one day, the roses wilted. Withered petals gathered at your feet. 

Tomorrow would be better, you reassured yourself as you drove. Tomorrow, Chan would realize he was wrong. He jumped the gun in this situation. In the morning, he’d call you and apologize. 

Tomorrow, you’d be welcomed home with a heartfelt apology and a bouquet of fresh flowers. A glass full of red wine, sweets, and a home cooked dinner. Tomorrow, things will be okay again. These tears were temporary. This hurt wouldn’t last forever. 

At a stoplight, you grabbed your phone and dialed Changbin’s number. On speaker phone, you waited and waited, but he didn’t pick up. If anyone would know the truth and be able to rationalize Chan’s brain, it was him. 

The red light from the stoplights highlighted faint tear streaks. You sniffled, wiping your long sleeve across your dripping nose. Your eyes shut and your voice cut out and quivered as you spoke. 

“Please know that I didn’t mean to cause him or you guys any harm. I ran into him the other day and asked if he could help teach me a dance. He’s one of JYP’s best dancers and I know Stray Kids are busy. His group is on break and I just thought I could surprise Chan with a dance.” 

“Saying it out loud, I get that it’s stupid now. I was just hoping it’d cheer him up. He’s been so stressed lately. I thought the least I could do was make him laugh.” 

“If you get a chance and if he’s willing to hear it, please let him know I love him. I love him and I’m sorry. Dispatch is stupid and I hate them. You can even ask that idol and he’ll tell you the same thing. I’m so sorry, Changbin. I’ll talk to you later. I have to find a place to stay tonight.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shut your eyes. After clicking the end call button on your phone, you threw the device into your passenger’s seat. Maybe if you were lucky, Chan would hear out Changbin. Level-headed and rational, you knew Chan appreciated the advice he gave out. 

A car horn honked behind you. Your eyes quickly reopened and the green light stared back at you. Unblinking, you grumbled beneath your breath. “I’m going, I’m going, geez.” You inched out into the intersection, expecting to continue going straight. 

You weren’t expecting your car to jerk left. Your screams blended with the sound of crushing metal. Orange sparks flew. The sickening scent of burnt rubber and diesel hit your nose. Your seatbelt cut into your neck and briefly cut off your air flow. 

The last thing you remembered was the horn of the semi-truck vibrating your entire car. 

~ ~ ~ 

It wasn’t Dispatch that was the first one to find out about the devastating car accident; instead, it was Jeongin. He sucked in a deep breath as he walked into the hospital. Last night, after struggling with the flu, someone admitted his friend to the hospital. 

He mumbled beneath his breath, trying to figure out what to say. A blue medical mask sat over his nose and mouth. He knew to keep his distance, but he still felt awful that they were here. 

Hospitals were lonely. In the brief moments when families and friends disappeared. When the nurses were following their routine rounds and doctors were checking in on other patients, people were left alone. The isolating white walls. The uncomfortable piercing beeps from the heart rate monitor. The cold IV drips, distributing medicine directly into the bloodstream. 

Surgical stitches ached. Disease weighed heavily upon the lungs. Intubation and the mechanical push and pull of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Hospitals were the opposite of warm and welcoming. Cold and sterile, he rather wished his friend was at home. 

The colorful bouquet of multicolored flowers was the brightest thing in the hallway. Closed doors with numbers passed by as he walked. The nurse’s announcement of his friend’s room number echoed in his head. 

It dissipated when he heard your name from a nurse in a cracked room. Before he knew it, he was pushing the door open and stepping inside. On the hospital bed, you were unrecognizable. Scrapes and cuts laced your face. Both plum purple eyes swelled shut.  

The right side of your face puffed up unnaturally. Black stitches poked out from the bottom of your lip. That was just your face. That wasn’t beginning to touch the cast on your arm and the rest of your body hidden beneath the blue covers. 

He knew it was you. He recognized the promise ring on your ring finger. He had helped Chan pick it out. He glanced around, searching for Chan, but he wasn’t there.

“Are you lost?” 

He glanced up to find the nurse. Her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. She observed him through black, circular-rimmed glasses. 

He shook his head and repeated your name. The nurse frowned and he pointed to you. “Is this-” 

“Are you family?” 

“Brother.” 

You weren’t biologically related, but it felt true deep down. 

~ ~ ~ 

Changbin tried to bring the situation up to Chan, but every time he spoke your name, Chan would shut down. From what Changbin knew, Chan didn’t know what happened to you. The rest of the guys did, but they all received the same results. Every time they spoke your name, Chan grew irritated and short-tempered. 

“I don’t want to talk about them! Stop bringing them up! Enough!” 

The charming and charismatic leader unraveled at the seams. His heart was full of love for you and you ruined it. That wasn’t something he took lightly. The hurt oozed out in other ways. 

His songs weren’t coming together as easily anymore. He used to get your feedback when he went home, but now the apartment was empty. The bed was colder without you. He was lonely, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

He snapped during dance practice. After he snapped at a manager, a manager lectured him about authority and respecting his elders. Nobody understood the hurt that he was going through. It didn’t help that Dispatch began showing up and bothering him. 

They could take all the pictures they wanted. He’d never give them the satisfaction of breaking his heart. Instead of listening, he put on his airpods and cranked up the music. He shoved through the camera flashes with his baseball hat low and a face mask covering the rest of his face. They didn’t deserve to turn his heartbreak into entertainment. 

He’d never let them break him. They already did it once. You were gone and the longer you went without a call or a text, he assumed they were right. They caught you cheating and you accepted it. You didn’t fight for your relationship. 

You didn’t call and beg for him to take you back. You didn’t call and try to explain. He sent you one text, but you never opened it. He was at a complete loss without you. 

Some would call him stubborn for it, but he’d say that he was just trying to protect himself from more hurt. 

~ ~ ~ 

The lonely days for you didn’t stay lonely for long. Jeongin discovered you hours after your accident. The days slipped by, but you weren’t alone anymore. Unconscious and pumped full of medicine, sure. They were far from lonely. 

Every evening, the guys took turns hanging out beside your bed. Seungmin would sing the songs you liked. Jeongin told you funny stories of Chan, trying to bring you back to consciousness. Minho brought you warm comments from the fans who found out about your accident. The rest of the guys had their own things, but Chan’s voice never filled the room. 

Stuck in a coma, things were dark. Occasionally, you could hear the beeping of your machines. You could feel your lungs expand and compress unnaturally. Your body felt like a shell more than anything. Voices came and went, but never Chan’s. 

In the darkness, you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure if you were dead or not. Stranger’s voices appeared in soft whispers and then they faded. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew you were exhausted. 

Those audible voices and sounds never lasted for long. You couldn’t feel pain. Every sensation within you felt numbed. A heavy fog filled your head and something clouded your vision. 

You attempted to open your eyes every so often, but they didn’t budge. Someone glued them shut. Every limb tingled with tiny pins and needles. You didn’t know if this was death, but it didn’t feel comforting. Somewhere between the realm of the living and dead, doctors kept you in a medically induced coma. 

How else could they heal the swelling of your brain? ~ ~ ~  

“I can’t take this anymore!” Felix cried out. He shoved himself from the chair and pulled out his phone. “This is such bullshit! I’m tired of keeping this from him.”

“Well, we’ve tried. What do you propose we do? Tell him to get to the hospital without mentioning his significant other’s name?” Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Good luck. We’ve tried everything and it’s been twenty-something days.” 

“Actually, that’s exactly what we should do. How much longer can this go on for? This is pathetic, even for him! I get that he’s hurt, but look at them!” He reached over and gestured towards your bed. 

You remained intubated and unmoving. The swelling in your puffy eyes faded a little more each day, but they still looked awful. The stitches in your lips disappeared, but a fresh pink scar remained. 

Swirls of purple and blue smeared along your face. Broken bones reset and were on the mend. You were a living miracle. The first responders were afraid you wouldn’t make it, but when they pulled you from the wreckage, you continued breathing. 

So he unlocked his phone and hit Chan’s contact name. 

“Hello?” 

“Chan?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You need to get to the hospital right now. Call me when you get here.” 

“WHAT?” 

“I can’t talk. Just call me when you get here.” 

“Felix!” 

He grimaced and hung up the phone. Seungmin shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You probably gave him a heart attack. He’s going to kill you when he gets here, you know?” 

“That’s a problem for later.” ~ ~ ~ 

Chan flew from his apartment. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Losing you was hard enough. If anything happened to a member of his group, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Come on, come on!” He fumbled with his seat belt in one hand. With the other, he swung his car door shut. In seconds, he jerked the car in reverse and slammed the pedal. 

He lurched down the driveway, spun the wheel with a rubbered squeal, and shifted the car into drive. The engine roared and he sped down the road. 

What-ifs grew stronger on the way to the hospital. His breath caught in his throat and he struggled to stay calm. Last he knew, everyone was fine so what happened? Who? How bad was it? 

The moment he parked, he whipped out his phone and dialed Felix’s number. When Felix responded, his voice came out frantic. “I’m here! Where are you?” 

“Room one-twelve. I’ll meet you half-way. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Wait, who is-” 

Click. 

“Fucking hell!” He cried out. He grabbed the keys, sped from the car, and rushed towards the automatic door. 

Everything was a blur inside. Voices appeared from the waiting room. The receptionist glanced over the front desk and eyed him, but she didn’t stop him. He glanced left and right and opted to go left. 

The carpet disappeared beneath his feet and turned into squeaky clean white vinyl. An easy material to clean and disinfect daily. He rushed forward when he saw Felix appear down the edge of the hall. 

The squeak of his shoes didn’t matter. He ignored the doctor he passed that told him to stop running. By the time he reached Felix, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Who is it? What happened? Tell me!” 

“Just, come on.” 

“Felix!” 

Felix didn’t budge. He grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him along. His chest filled with anxiety and his lungs compressed. When the pair appeared at the right door, Felix dropped his wrist and slowly pushed the door open. 

He expected to find Han or Jeongin. A broken and battered Hyunjin or Changbin hooked to oxygen. This was the intensive care unit. This was for the severe cases. The patients that required a close eye and keen detailing. 

Upon seeing you, his face fell. The bruising upon your face. The tube down your throat. Your lifeless skin and unmoving limbs. There was no sign of the life the two of you created. 

No reassuring smiles, or laughter. Seungmin sat solemnly beside your bed in a chair. “I’m shocked that you finally made it.” 

“What the hell happened?” He hurried to the opposite side of your bed. His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch you. Too frightened by your state, he didn’t know where he could touch without causing you pain. 

“Try their hand,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. He whirled around to find a nurse in blue scrubs. “Their hands survived the crash. You can touch their hands if you wish.” 

“Sorry, I came in to get some vitals. It’ll only be a few moments and then I can leave you alone. Visiting hours are open until eleven o’clock tonight. I’ve never seen you here before, so I thought you should know.” 

“How long have they been like this?” He whispered. Tears filled his eyes and his heart ached. 

“Since the night you told them to leave your apartment.” 

“What?” 

“Felix!” Seungmin’s voice shot out sternly. “It’s not like that, Chan. Yes, the accident happened that night, but don’t beat yourself up over it. A driver of a semi-truck was speeding and couldn’t stop in time.” 

“That was nearly a-” 

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Felix’s hand appeared on his shoulder. “We tried to tell you, but every time we tried to utter their name, you were angry. We should have found a better way to tell you, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. 

The nurse grabbed your vitals and disappeared to give the guys time with you. Chan collapsed to his knees and grabbed your hand with both of his. For nearly a month, you’d been stuck in this bed. He thought you’d given up on the relationship with him. 

This entire time you haven't texted him back. Not because you were angry. Not because you were sad. Not because Dispatch’s rumors were true. But it was because you physically couldn’t. Intubated and trapped in a medically induced coma, you couldn’t reach out, even if you wanted to. 

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, I-I thought that they-” 

“Easy, hyung.” 

“What did I do? What the fuck did I do? If I wouldn’t have kicked them out of the apartment, this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I should have let them explain.” 

Seungmin shot Felix a look. He shrugged and gently rubbed Chan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Channie. You were hurting and you didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

He was supposed to be the leader. A strong pillar and an even stronger influence on his younger members. As the eldest member, he was supposed to be reliable. At that moment, he crumbled. Tears appeared in his eyes as a sob broke from his chest. 

No wonder you had been so quiet. He called you once and hit your voicemail. He longed to hit the call button, just so he could hear your voice again. He squeezed your hand tighter and pressed it against his cheek. 

“Wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Come back to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!” 

Tears blurred his vision. He struggled to comprehend your mangled face. Your other hand sat wrapped in a cast. You must have been so broken when you arrived here. He wasn’t here to comfort you. He wasn’t here to try and console and cheer you up. 

A wheeze fell from his throat. The betrayal slicing through his heart disappeared. This time, he felt like he was the one that had betrayed you. He hurt you in the most unimaginable way possible. 

You laid here broken and half-dead. You spent hours fighting for your life alone. And where was he? Walking around your shared apartment drowning in his own self-pity. He’d never forgive himself for this. 

“What is this?” He finally whispered after his sobs faded away. His throat was raw. His voice came out scratchy. “How bad is it?” 

“The doctor said they should wake up at any time. They weren’t breathing on their own. A medically induced coma ensured to make sure their brain’s swelling could stop.” 

“It was that bad? They’ve been suffering through all that alone?” His bottom lip quivered. He grew afraid of the response he’d receive. 

“No,” Seungmin spoke up. “Jeongin found out first. He was the one that notified us. He said he tried to tell you, but when he showed up at your apartment, you told him to leave.” 

Horror filled Chan at the memory. Later that same night, back when you left, Jeongin appeared on his front porch pale. Instead of hearing out the younger member, he told him to get lost and slammed the door in his face. Deep down, he was afraid to be viewed as weak in front of the younger member. 

The memory stung his heart. Poor Jeongin just wanted him to know the truth and he slammed the door in his face. No wonder Jeongin seemed so nervous around him. He was probably worried that Chan would find out the truth and yell at him for not telling him. 

He rubbed his face and pawed at his eyes. “So does everyone know?” 

“Everyone besides you.” 

“Sorry you’re late. None of us knew how to get you here. You’d never listen when we tried to talk about them.” 

“I was such a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were hurting,” Felix corrected him. 

“And a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were.” 

“Seungmin!” Felix cried. 

“No, I want him to know that he was. I’m not going to sit here and pity him. You were a jerk, Chan. I hope you remember this moment whenever you try to act like an asshole again.” 

The words were a slap in the face, and yet he wanted to laugh. As harsh as Seungmin’s words were, they rang true. He was a jerk and maybe, in the cruelest way possible, this was his karma. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but paused when your fingernails scratched at his hand. The tube in your throat caused you to choke. You couldn’t fully see as your eyes half-opened. Still swollen, your vision remained limited. Silhouettes appeared and voices became more distinct. 

“Get a nurse!” 

Footsteps hit the ground. You gargled and reached your opened mouth. “No, no, no! You can’t touch that yet.” 

“Easy, love. Try to relax and don’t fight the tube. It’s breathing for you right now.” 

The distress and quickened-pace of the heart rate monitor hit a hiccup. Chan’s familiar voice grounded you, but you still struggled with the tube. Your lungs wanted to expand, but the machine compressed them. You choked again, still fighting the pesky thing. 

More footsteps. Another silhouette. Glasses on an unfamiliar face and latex rubbing against your skin. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to take this out now, okay? On the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You gasped and coughed at the removal. Your lungs filled with air of your own accord. More coughing. You attempted to swallow, but your mouth was so dry. The lingering phantom of a headache filled the side of your head. 

“Try a sip of this, sweetheart.” 

The nurse’s tone was honey to your ears. You swallowed the water the moment it hit your lips. One swallow and then another. Two more and suddenly, you were gulping like crazy. 

“Easy, or you’ll choke,” Chan gently reminded you. 

The nurse pulled the glass away when you finished. “Do you know where you are?” 

“Hospital?” 

“Do you remember your name?” 

“Chan?” 

“I’m right here, honey. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Do you remember your name? This nice nurse wants to help you get better. Your doctor is on his way.” 

Every question asked, you answered it perfectly. A buzz of excitement swirled around the room from your consciousness. Seungmin and Felix left the room to give everyone the good news. 

When the doctor concluded you were stable, he disappeared with the nurse. A silence fell between you and Chan. You still couldn’t see perfectly, but you could feel the weight of his hand in yours. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry for that night.” 

“I don’t want to talk about that night.” 

“I was an idiot.” 

“Dumbass,” you weakly corrected him. 

“I see getting hit by a semi-truck hasn’t taken away your sass.” 

“If I can survive this, I can survive anything.” 

“I love you and I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, I love you and I don’t want to hear anything else about that. I’m so tired. Can you sing me to sleep or something?” 

“If I do, promise you won’t die?” 

“I promise.” 

Even if you couldn’t make out his face, you knew his voice, and that was good enough for you. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[triplefrontierbabe]

2 Hands Lando Norris Imagine

smau linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: suggestive content, language

a/n: this is part of a request paired with a smau, linked above

Ask any woman what their favorite part of a man is and she will most likely say his hands. There’s just something so innocently sensual about man hands, especially if they’re the hands of a racing driver.

It’s no secret that using your significant other as inspiration for your work is one of the highest forms of flattery, especially when it comes to art. And ever since you met Lando Norris, he has been your muse for your work. Every song somehow suddenly was about him, he’s all you thought about. Now that your second world tour has come to an end it’s the perfect time to get back in the studio and you have the perfect idea of what to do.

To be honest, one of the first things you noticed about Lando was his hands and how they looked like they were carved from marble. The mere sight of him holding a coffee cup made your mind wander like no other. All you could think of was how his hands looked on your body and how he would touch you with such gentleness and care. Occasionally you’d sneak a photo of his hands while you were around him. Soon enough he realized the obsession of his hands that you had developed.

One night you and Lando were heading out for a nice dinner when you pulled out your phone to take a photo of you two in the elevator mirror. Lando immediately grabbed your phone out of your hands and moved his hand from your hips to the front of your stomach, and dangerously low might you add. You blushed at his actions, knowing your not so secret obsession had been found out.

“I know you like them.” Lando said cheekily handing the phone back to you as your face broke out in a blush yet again.

“Can you blame me though?” You asked, grabbing his right hand and examining the rings he had on. Those rings were another weakness of yours. The way the cool metal clashed with your burning skin made your whole body shiver. His hands were going to be the death of you.

“Write a song, it’ll last longer.” He responded with a mischievous smile as the elevator door opened. You looked over your shoulder at him and rolled your eyes.

“You know I just might, Norris.” You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Atta girl.” He said laying a light smack on your ass which earned a whispered scold from you.

A song about his hands is exactly what you wrote. The writing process for this song was probably the fastest you had ever written a song in your entire life. Your producer was shocked when you got to the studio and had to make minor changes to the lyrics, it was practically perfect– like Lando’s hands.

While Lando was halfway across the world for a race you facetimed him to play a demo of the song for him.

“You mean it?” He asked, looking at your face on his screen with a look of disbelief.

“Every word.” You simply replied, giving Lando a sly smile.

“What about a music video?” Lando inquired, shifting in his seat.

“Okay, hear me out” you began “I was thinking about incorporating cars into it somehow, maybe a McLaren or something.”

“A McLaren, huh?”

“I dunno, just a thought. Could be a fun little easter egg.” You responded by shrugging your shoulders while stealing a glance at his hands that were barely in sight on the phone.

Before you knew it music video rehearsals had arrived. On your first day of rehearsal you walked into the studio to see a box wrapped in bright orange- or papaya- wrapping paper with a big blue bow on top. There was a card attached that read ‘although this isn’t a sports car, i hope this gives you some inspiration ;) -4’. Lando had gifted you one of those battery operated kids’ McLaren F1 cars.

Another month had passed of working on 2 Hands but it was finally ready to be promoted, and so was your relationship with Lando. Since you started dating him, small easter eggs of your relationship had been sprinkled throughout your instagram posts.

But the post you made announcing that you had new music coming out, you decided to be bold. You included a picture of you on the toy car that had Lando’s number on the front. But the kryptonite of the post was the last picture which was a closeup of Lando with his hands on his helmet with his hand veins on full display. You had spent hours of looking through social media for the perfect photo of his hands, many thanks to the thousands of other girls who were just as enamored with his hands as you were.

The minute you posted, your phone was blowing up with countless fans speculating a relationship between you and the famed driver but more so, the attention was on his hands like you wanted it to be.

Abu Dhabi rolled around which was a big weekend for the both of you. Lando won the race, McLaren won the Constructors’ Championship and 2 Hands was released. You were with Lando at the hotel basking in his victorious weekend and listening to your new song. It was a perfect weekend and you couldn’t have imagined it to be any other way.

“I fucking love this song.” Lando said, grabbing you by the waist giving you a deep kiss. “But I love you way more.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Lan.” You replied, raking your hands through Lando’s curly hair. “I love how everyone loves your hands too. Did you know there’s pinterest boards dedicated to your hands?”

“Of course there are.” He responded by throwing his hand back in laughter. This moment was perfect, just being in the same room as him celebrating your accomplishments together.

“But, I’m the only one that knows what they feel like.” You said with a wink.

“Well, look at you Miss Possessive.”

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @r0nnsblog @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you

[scoupsakakitty]

Hoshi x 14th member please like a very slowburn and members are tired of seeing hoshi like that until they make hoshi confess to her, and he likes her like from the very start in their trainee days, but the members found out he likes her that much after years so yeah, maybe she is the same age as him, he's just a few months older so most of all the members calls her noona noona hehehe

Timing is Everything | idol!hoshi x 14thMember | fluff

Hoshi had always liked her.

Not in the casual, fleeting way people develop crushes during their trainee days no, this was different. It was the kind of quiet affection that settled deep in his chest, growing roots with every passing year. It started with the way she tied her hair in messy buns during late-night practices, the determination in her eyes when the trainers pushed them too hard, and the way she laughed at his dumb jokes even when she was exhausted.

But he never said anything.

Years passed. They debuted. They became family. The feelings stayed.

And the members noticed.

It wasn’t the obvious things Hoshi was careful about that. No lingering stares or unnecessary compliments. But it was the small things: how he always saved her favorite snacks without thinking, how his mood shifted whenever she was upset, how his jokes were always just a little funnier when she laughed.

One day, after another painfully obvious moment where Hoshi practically short-circuited because she called him cute in passing.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I can’t do this anymore. Just tell her you like her.”

Hoshi’s head shot up, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Mingyu chimed in, rolling his eyes. “We’ve known since what? 2016? Honestly, it’s impressive how long you’ve managed to suffer in silence.”

“I’m not suffering.” Hoshi’s voice was high-pitched. Betrayed.

Jeonghan smirked from his spot near the window.

The room burst into laughter, but Hoshi’s face was burning.

“I don’t like her like that,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Seungcheol snorted. “Yeah, sure. And Minghao doesn’t like painting.”

Before Hoshi could come up with a weak defense, the door creaked open. Y/N walked in, wiping sweat from her forehead, a water bottle in hand.

The room instantly shifted. The teasing died down, but the mischievous glint in Dino’s eyes said it all.

“Noona,” Dino called out casually, stretching his arms over his head. “Serious question.”

She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “What now, Chan?”

“If you had to date one of us hypothetically, of course who do you think would be the best boyfriend?”

The room erupted in laughter again. Hoshi’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

“Yah, what kind of question is that?” Seungkwan groaned, but the grin on his face showed he was loving every second of it.

She smirked, clearly amused, and pretended to think about it as she walked further into the room. “Hmm… tough one.”

Hoshi stared at the floor, trying to act indifferent, but his ears were turning red.

“Well,” she began, her eyes scanning the room, “Seungcheol would be too bossy. Jeonghan’s too sneaky I’d never know if he’s being serious. Mingyu’s way too clumsy. Vernon? I’d have to compete with his music.”

Everyone laughed, and even Hoshi managed a weak smile, though his chest felt tight.

Then, for just a brief second, her eyes met his.

“I’d probably pick someone who makes me laugh,” she said casually looking at Hoshi. “Someone kind… someone reliable.”

Hoshi swallowed hard. His heart was racing.

“But I’m not naming names,” she added playfully, tossing her towel over her shoulder and heading to grab her bag.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungkwan leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth, “She was totally talking about you.”

Mingyu nodded. “If you don’t confess soon, I might do it for you.”

Hoshi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His heart was still somewhere on the practice room floor.————————————————————————————-The days after that conversation felt unbearable.

Hoshi couldn’t stop thinking about it her words, the way her gaze lingered just a little too long, the teasing smirks from the members every time she walked into a room. It was like they were all in on some secret that he wasn’t brave enough to face.

But nothing compared to her.

The way she laughed during late-night rehearsals. The casual way she’d nudge his shoulder when he made a joke. The way his heart raced every time their hands brushed, even if it was just by accident.

It was getting harder to pretend.————————————————————————————-A Week Later

She was sitting on the floor, stretching, while Hoshi absentmindedly fiddled with his water bottle, debating with himself.

Just say it. What’s the worst that could happen?

But the words stayed trapped in his throat.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” she suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Hoshi’s heart nearly stopped.

“Weird? Me? No, I’m totally normal,” he stammered, laughing nervously.

She gave him a look one of those looks that saw right through him. “Come on, you’ve been zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and you’re quieter than usual. What’s up?”

Hoshi opened his mouth, then closed it again. His chest felt tight. He could hear Seungkwan’s voice in his head: ‘She obviously likes you too. Just confess.’

But fear held him back. What if it ruined everything?

“I’m just… tired,” he muttered, looking away.

She didn’t press further, but the tension hung in the air, thick and heavy.————————————————————————————-The Next Day

“Okay, that’s it,” Seungcheol declared, slamming his palm on the table during lunch. “We’re staging an intervention.”

Hoshi blinked. “What?”

Jeonghan leaned in with a wicked grin. “You’re confessing today. No more excuses.”

Mingyu nodded, his mouth full of rice. “Yep. We’re tired of watching you suffer.”

“I’m not suffering—”

“Oh, please,” Seungkwan cut in. “You looked like you were about to faint yesterday when she asked if you were okay.”

Before Hoshi could protest, the door swung open, and Y/N walked in.

Perfect timing.

Seungcheol didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, Y/N. Hoshi has something to tell you.”

Hoshi’s eyes widened in horror. “Hyung!”

She paused, looking between them, clearly confused. “Uh… what is it?”

The room went silent. All eyes on Hoshi.

His heart was racing. His hands were clammy. But then she smiled just a small, curious smile and something in him snapped.

Hoshi stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. “I—I like you!” he blurted out, voice louder than intended.

Silence.

The words echoed in the room.

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised. Hoshi felt like he was going to pass out.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he added, his voice softer now, but more steady. “Since our trainee days. I just… I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

The room was dead silent for a beat then Seungkwan dramatically covered his face like he was watching a drama unfold.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She just stared at him, and Hoshi felt like the ground might swallow him whole.

But then she smiled. A real, soft smile.

“I was wondering when you’d finally say it,” she said quietly, her eyes warm.

Hoshi blinked. “Wait… what?”

She stepped closer, her smile widening. “I like you too, idiot.”

The room exploded with noise cheering, laughter, Seungcheol shaking Hoshi by the shoulders like a proud dad.

Hoshi just stood there, stunned, until Y/N gently reached for his hand. That’s when it hit him.

She likes him back.

All those years of quiet longing, small glances, unsaid words it was all worth it.

And the members?

They claimed victory like it was their confession.————————————————————————————-It’s the same night and Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her heart had been racing since Hoshi’s confession. The words kept replaying in her mind like a song she couldn’t turn off.

“I’ve liked you for a long time.”

She had waited for so long to hear those words. But now that she had, it felt like something inside her had snapped a tension she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She needed more than words. She needed him.

Without overthinking, she quietly slipped out of her room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. The hallway was dim, shadows dancing along the walls. She paused briefly in front of Hoshi’s door, her heart pounding like a drum.

Just do it.

She knocked softly, barely giving herself time to reconsider.

The door creaked open, revealing Hoshi in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from sleep. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her standing there.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and slightly raspy from sleep.

But she didn’t answer.

Without a word, she stepped into his room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Hoshi barely had time to process before she crossed the space between them in quick, determined steps. She reached up, cupping his face with both hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t shy. It was everything she’d been holding back weeks, months, years of quiet longing poured into a single, desperate moment.

At first, Hoshi froze, his eyes wide with shock. But then something in him melted.

His hands found her hips instinctively, pulling her closer, erasing the space between them. His lips moved with hers, gentle at first, then deeper, more certain. Like he was making up for all the time they’d wasted.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Hoshi’s eyes searched hers, his heart racing wildly.

“W-What was that for?” he whispered, his voice barely steady.

Y/N smiled softly, her forehead resting lightly against his.

“I’ve been holding back for too long,” she whispered, her fingers still gently cradling his face. “You finally said how you feel… so now I can finally say it too.”

She leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, her gaze sincere.

“I love you, Hoshi.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. His heart felt like it might burst.

A slow smile spread across his face, soft and full of warmth. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering gently against her cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice filled with so much emotion it made her chest tighten.

He kissed her again softer this time, slower, like he had all the time in the world. And for the first time, they did.

No more hiding.

No more holding back.

Just them.————————————————————————————-

[beesgobzzzing]

From https://www.sverigesradio.se/avsnitt/hooja-kaarija-om-tanken-pa-att-tavla-i-eurovision

Translation / Transcript under the cut. This interview was really nice, I highly suggest you give it a listen even if you don't speak Swedish!

Hooja and Käärijä about the thought of competing in Eurovision

Interviewer (Carolina): What an exciting collaboration! Hooja together with Käärijä. [In English] I didn't see this one coming, I can tell you that. And I will start in Swedish, with you, Hooja. [In Swedish] How in the world did this end up happening?

Hooja: We're not as different as you could think. We've been saying that both of us are crazy, we definitely saw that in the studio when we met, because we had so unbelievably much fun when writing this song. So we… we really fit well together, both personalities and musically. Writing this song was a LOT of fun.

Carolina: Yeah, because… I mean… but HOW did you meet from the start so that this ended up happening?

Mårdis: At first we had been tittle-tattling in our camp about how it would be fun, because we see a lot of similarities in each other despite also being so dissimilar. And then they apparently had also been talking in THEIR camp as well, so it sort of came up in a roundabout way AGAIN that "he wants to make something with you". So we decided that we'll go down and do this, and we met up, and we had fun, and there was no pressure, no idea was bad, we were there for two days and just laughed. And that's what happens when you have fun, too, you make music from that, and that's how we got San Francisco Boy, our lovely child that we have together. [In English, to K] San Francisco Boy is our child that we have together.

Käärijä: Yes!

Carolina: A love child.

Käärijä: YES!! (Laughter)

Carolina: So, Käärijä, I must ask you, have you seen them without their masks?

Käärijä: Maybe I see more than only face…

Carolina: In the sauna..?

Käärijä: Maybe… (Even more laughter and something unintelligible about a mask)

Carolina: But it's so nice to see, because they just said, in Swedish, that when they were in the studio, they laughed so much. Was it the same for you?

Käärijä: Yes, yes. And, uh, I remember, first time, because you start to make like, the beats, and you played that song in Finland, to me, and I'm "uh, ok, this is… this is very funny and crazy and I feel good" when the boys played the song. And uh, then we start to try and do something and we get the song San Francisco Boy. And, uh… very, very good times and we get a lot of fun.

Carolina: [In Swedish] And the funny part is, San Francisco Boy, is in Swedish and English, but I'm thinking this - We have northern Sweden, we have Finland, and we end up with San Francisco Boy. (Laughter) Is there any hidden meaning with this?

Hooja: Why not? [In English] Why not? (Laughter) [In Swedish] We don't like doing the most obvious thing.

Carolina: No, no.

Hooja: No.

Carolina: But there is no hidden meaning in the song?

Hooja: No, I don't really think there is. What do you think? (To K and Mårdis)

Mårdis: If there's a message in the song, this is what we said when we started with the song - Disco Boy, San Francisco Boy, whatever you want to be, if you want to be Orange Boy or Finland Boy then you're allowed to be that. That was a thing that we really agree upon, that… It sounds cliche, you know, "you can be who you want to be", but we really think that. For real. And it's important to us. And that we could put that into a funny song, that just sort of happened, and it's nice.

Carolina: And now you're here at Melodifestivalen, and get a taste of… wait, get a feeling of what it's like being here. Have you considered Hooja in Melodifestivalen?

Hooja: Well… Never say never, we've gotten the question a few times and we've said no then, but you never know what the future holds! You don't want to say too much, you need to.. you need to watch your words.

Carolina: [In English] Käärijä help me here, I'm trying persuade them to do the Swedish Melodifestivalen.

Käärijä: I think the boys have to make öööh, to use what they want to do. Maybe… Maybe some day. For me, why I tried to go to Eurovision in 2023, we made the song Cha Cha Cha, and it's like the first demo, and I'm thinking, "okay, this is more than just only song, we can do something bigger" and one way how we can do something bigger, um, we can go to Eurovision, and uh, I watching a lot of Eurovision when I was young.

Mårdis: And if we want to go to Eurovision one day, we are very happy to have a Eurovision veteran with us, who can guide us through life.

Käärijä: Yes, I can be your manager. (Laughter)

Carolina: That is a brilliant idea! [In Swedish] We have this on tape now. [In English] We have it on record here.

Käärijä: Yes, yes!

Carolina: Now we come..

Käärijä: We have a plan, boys! Yes, let's go to studio. (Laughter)

Carolina: I will call the EBU immediately and say "Hi, I've got three guys who will SHAKE the Eurovision around". (Laughter) But I must also ask you, Käärijä, coming second after Loreen but winning the public vote… Are you still mad? Are people in Finland still mad at Sweden? [Bees note: The interviewer's tone of voice here is very genuine and almost… apologetic?]

Käärijä: I think that people in Finland, they are mad, but not really… I'm not. Of course I remember time after final where they give the points and I saw that Loreen get more points than me, I going to cry on toilet, but… (giggles) but yes, I'm ok and Loreen is amazing artist and person, human, I love Loreen. And after final, Loreen sent me the message to "Käärijä, if you need something…"

Hooja, breaking in: Except the price… (Laughter)

Käärijä: If you need money or something… (Laughter)

Mårdis: If you want to look at the price… (Laughter)

Käärijä: But yeah, good person and I… I'm not care any more, I'm ok (giggling)

Carolina: To wrap it up then, a final question I'm very curious about, will you proceed doing this (stumbles over words) [In Swedish] I'll just do it in Swedish - will the collaboration continue? [In English] Will you continue this collaboration?

Hooja: You never know! No but, uh, you do never know.

Mårdis: I think the thing with us, we only do things that are fun for us, it's the only thing we care about, that's what music is for us. If it's fun, we're going to do it, and we've had a lot of fun with this too, so I'm ending it just like Hooja, you never know! (Laughter)

Carolina: [In English] Ok, two diplomatic answers, that they had fun, Käärijä, the Finnish vote - this sounds like a dating show! - do you want to continue dating these boys?

Käärijä: You don't know yet! But I think, boys, you can't run away anymore, when you do work with Käärijä you stay with Käärijä. (Laughter) Oh yes, yes, yes (Laughter) But uh, yeah, I hope we do other songs and more songs, and uh, let's see!

Hooja: Yeah!

Carolina: Thank you very much! [In Swedish] Thank you so much, I'm crossing my fingers we get more from your collab in the future! (Collective "woo-hoo!")

[lilgarbitch]

Beside You - Noah Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: angst<3

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Blame @xmads-omensx

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera

Y/N

My pillow was slowly soaking up the tears beside me as I stared up at the ceiling. I could feel the wetness on my ears from the sunken cushion. My breathing had finally calmed after hours of sobs that still ached my chest, but my tears had no stop in sight. My sleeve was coated in snot, being too exhausted to grab any tissues or even a towel. I was broken. I didn’t know when I was going to move next. I didn’t have a reason to move again. 

He was gone. Finally left for Los Angeles to pursue his true love and passion. Not me. Music. I still remember the look on Nick’s face when Noah didn’t even glance my way as I watched them all pack up the car with the last of their things, hoping I could catch one last word or touch from him. Pure pity. Like he knew Noah had given up on anything but his future, leaving everything, including me, behind. Folio had been nice enough to give me one last quick hug and a few encouraging words, but it wasn’t enough. 

Not only had Noah ignored me, it was like he managed to get the others to want to as well. Or maybe they were all okay with leaving me behind. You’d think years of memories and laughter with the boys would mean they’d spare me anything more than a spontaneous talk of their plans with nothing more to give. 

I wanted to make it work. I tried giving him and the others ideas to stay in touch. I’d save up to visit them. We could talk on the phone. Fuck, at this point, I’d be okay with an occasional text, as long as it meant they still cared. But the day Noah told me their plan, it was like he turned into a different person. Slowly cancelling plans until we just stopped making them at all. He was too busy planning or packing. They were trying to put a deposit down on a nice place and apparently discussing with a realtor took weeks. Every text I sent was giving one excuse or another until I just stopped sending them. 

I managed to keep my tears to myself until I watched their car drive off, heading for the airport, but the minute I stepped into mine, my vision went blind and my head rang with emotion. And I drove home like that, not caring if I could see the road or not. If I could even catch my breath at stop signs or if I even stopped at them. I was destroyed and lost my will to care. 

I barely made it up the stairs to my room, seeing all the memories we made in every room of the house. Movie nights in the living room, Noah and I cuddled up in blankets with over seasoned popcorn. The boys overfilling my kitchen and practically destroying it on nights where they decided they could make a drunk snack together. The stairs the boys raced up multiple times, tripping and almost breaking teeth each time. The ones Noah has passionately carried me up on multiple occasions, taking me to the very bed I’m lying in. If I turn my head, I’m almost convinced I could smell him on my sheets, even if it’s been weeks since he’s even been near the house, let alone my bed. 

By now, they're probably all reaching their new house, excitedly moving everything in and calling dibs on bedrooms. Blasting music and singing along like we used to on days I’d help them with chores or vice versa. I always took it as my job to watch over them and make sure no one got hurt with how excited and rowdy they can get, and I feel a small pang of worry in my chest that they’ll no longer have someone to look out for them, despite them never actually needing it, always having each other. 

Tears are still falling down my cheeks, collecting in puddles next to my ears, just a little slower now. I must finally be running out. My chest still hurts from the soul crushing sobs that almost didn’t stop. It was finally getting dark, meaning it was getting late, and I couldn’t tell if the exhaustion was going to knock me out or keep me up. I couldn’t feel anything other than my swollen eyes, wet pillow, pounding head, and aching chest. 

I don’t know when I started counting them, maybe after the first few weeks of wallowing in my own pity, but tonight will be my 57th night sleeping alone. And so many more were to come. How he went from never wanting to leave my bed to never failing to find an excuse to stay away from it will forever leave me in mystery, but he got his wish. He won’t have to see me again. He and the boys will never have to see this house again. Maybe one day, I’ll follow in their footsteps and move away, just incase they’re worried they’d run into me if they ever came to visit. 

I thought I’ve already gone through all the stages of grief dealing with them pulling away, but I think now that I know they’re gone, I’ve just barely moved onto anger. And most of it isn’t even anger towards them. It’s towards myself. A pitiful sense of anger. Because how could this happen to me? How could I lose the boys I called my family from day one? What could I have done that they were willing to so easily leave me behind like I was nothing? 

Night eventually turns into day, the only thing I consider sleep being the moments my eyes closed long enough to remember every moment we spent together. Maybe I could treat them as dreams, convincing myself that getting them back was nothing more than a fantasy I created in my head. 

Noah

I barely spoke the entire trip, pretending to be asleep most of the plane ride. Even as we moved everything into our new place, I didn’t join in on arguing over the rooms, just taking the one they gave me. It must’ve been out of pity, as it was the master bedroom, but all I could think of was how small I felt in such a large space. 

I silently carried my bags and boxes in, most of our belongings getting here a week before we did, and it was just sitting around the room, unpacked. I didn’t even unpack any clothes, still lying in what I threw on this morning before shoving the rest of my things into bags. 

I couldn’t do anything more than lie here, replaying that pained look on her face as I ignored her last wish of a goodbye. I know what I did was fucked, but to hurt her was going to make this easier. I was too focused on this dream to even think I could make this work without hurting her in the future. Days were going to get busier and I’d slowly drift away as my music became my number one priority. I couldn’t watch it happen over time. It needed to be said and done. 

So I laid here, staring at the plain white walls and ceiling, seeing her face in every after image. Silent words are hard to speak, but her thoughts were all I could see. “Don’t ever leave,” she said with the broken look in her eyes. It killed me, but I had to make it work. I had to leave her, despite every cell in my body being pulled back towards her.

Ever since the night I told her we were leaving, I could barely sleep a wink alone, but to fall asleep underneath the same sky again is out of the question, so I know I’d have to get used to it now. 

One day, we will start touring. Everyday, somewhere new. I want that to be a sense of comfort, knowing my dreams, but I can’t help but make a silent promise to come home soon. A chance to bring me back to her. When we both finally wake underneath the same sun again, I hope I don’t run into her, knowing time will stop and I’ll wish that I could rewind. But I can’t. As much as I wish I could’ve brought her with me and made her a part of my journey, I just knew, deep in my heart, that I had to ruin it before time did. I couldn’t make her stop her entire life just for me. I had dreams and so did she, and I couldn’t put mine above hers, no matter how badly I wanted to stay beside her.

TO BE CONTINUED

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part twelve: childhood || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

characters presentation || last part || next part ; words: 1k

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

"When did you decide to play the guitar? I've never seen you here" you say to the child, putting your bass in the case "I started a few weeks ago. How about you?" he asks, and you think about it "I've been playing my bass for a long time now, I was 5 when I started!" You say, smiling at him, and he nods before walking back with his group

That Sae Itoshi was weird, but really good with his guitar. His guitar teacher always talked to your bass teacher about how he was a phenomenon, that's why you decided to talk to him for the first time, but he didn't seem particularly interested in you. Maybe he's shy, but you don't know

"Wait, Itoshi!" you say running towards him, the bass weighing on your shoulders "I'm convinced I can handle the speed with which you play your guitar, I can be your bassist!" you say, and he seems to think about it “Are you good?” he asks raising an eyebrow, and you nod "Many say that I am the best bassist of my age, in our music school" you say a little embarrassed. You see him a little perplexed as he takes the case over his shoulder "Do you have anything to do this afternoon?" he asks, and you shake your head to say no, following him with a smile on your face

As you walk towards Sae's house, you think about how you ended up in this situation: you don't even know why you care so much about being his bassist, but you think that he is capable of giving you notes that can make you electrify. You've been playing bass for 5 years now, and when you heard that the new guitarist at the music school you go was looking for some good bass players, you took the opportunity. Sae is 12 years old, a little older than you, but he already seems to be great at what he does; you have fairly high expectations, both on his part and on your part

"Come, we can go to the garage" says the child entering a small garden, taking a path that surrounds the road, which leads to the back. You follow him, looking around curiously, noticing how the outside of the house is very nice. When you arrive at the back Sae takes you into the already open garage, which overlooks a very well-kept garden, probably from her mother "You can connect your bass to that speaker. Shall we try some songs?" he asks, plugging in his guitar, and you nod, following the order that he gave you “You start, I'll join you and give you the right rhythm. After all, that's what the bass does"

Sae begins, and after a few seconds you join him: you both start playing a strong melody from a song you studied in music school, one you particularly like. Even though you've never played together you seem to have been doing it for a long time, as if a chemical reaction had taken place between your bass and his guitar. Play for minutes on end, until you reach the end

“That was so cool!” you say happy, but he doesn't seem to share the same happiness, despite being calm "It was nice. Let's try again with something else" he says, and you nod getting into position, yours fingers on the bass keys. For the second time you start playing without any problems, and you feel so happy to finally have someone who can give you emotions when he plays: you've been playing for a while, you know how it works to be paired with someone for a duet, you've always gotten along well with everyone because you're talented, but you've never had fun. But now you're doing it, you're not the only one with so much talent. It's satisfying, magical, beautiful

But as you play, you notice how someone is peeking from the last step of the garage stairs, the ones that probably lead to the first floor

Finished playing, Sae puts down the guitar, climbing onto the first step "Rin!" he says, and you are confused "If you are interested, you can come down. Observing is rude" says Itoshi, and a child comes out from behind the door, that is, from where he was hiding while he was looking at you "Sorry, Nii San" says the child coming down the stairs, looking down and apologetic

Seeing him like this, he is probably his younger brother; he could be your age, since you should be more or less the same height. He is quite different from Sae, except for the marked undereyelashes, perhaps a symbol of the Itoshi family: he has dark green hair, teal eyes and chubby cheeks. He is quite a bit shorter than Sae, that's why you're convinced he's his younger brother

When he reaches the garage floor, after going down the stairs, his gaze shifts to you: you observe each other for a few seconds, you curious about him and him for who knows what reason, which however doesn't make him look away

"Rin, I told you it's rude to stare. Introduce yourself to her" Sae says, walking over, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rin becomes serious again, standing up straight "I'm Rin Itoshi. I'm Sae's younger brother" the boy says, and Sae nods "He's 10, you should be the same age, right?" he asks, and you nod "I have 10 too, yeah"

Rin's gaze continually shifts between you and your bass as he stands a few feet away from you. You look at him curiously "Do you like my bass?" you ask, moving closer, and he takes a few steps back "Oh, yes" he says uncertainly, but you don't seem bothered by his uncertainty "Do you play an instrument too?" you ask, and Sae walks away, returning to his guitar, which he puts back on

“He said he wants to start sing-” Sae says, but is cut off from the ringing voice of his brother

"I want to play bass"

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover

[bitethedevil]

A House of Hope (Modern!AU Raphael x Tav): Chapter 2

Read this fic on AO3

Last Chapter

Fic summary: Tav lives at her mom's place after a tough break-up with her former boyfriend. Rent isn't cheap anywhere, but one day her mom finds her someone online who presents a tempting new living situation that won't break her bank account.

Tav moves into the Haven estate and becomes a part of Raphael's House of Hope project: a project that helps unfortunate souls to get back on their feet. Although, something is not quite right about the house and her fellow tenants. That's not to mention her odd landlord who seems to be hiding something...

AN: Raphael, our dear problematic landlord, is playing it safe in these first couple of chapters, but he will get so fucked up later on. For now we are setting the scene a bit more. NSFT stuff in the next chapter as Haarlep is properly introduced.

Tav yanked on the window to her bedroom. She pulled it closed but the handle would just not go down and let her keep it closed.

She had finally found something wrong with the apartment. She had been expecting toxic mold to hide somewhere behind the furniture, so she supposed that a broken window was really a minor fault.

She gave up on the stubborn window and instead felt the need to explore her new surroundings a little bit. She folded the map of the estate that Raphael had given her and put it in her back pocket.

When she opened the door to the shared entrance, she stepped out into a cloud of smoke. She blew it away and then looked for the source of it. A blonde, middle-aged woman who looked a bit worn out by life stood to the side of the doorway puffing on a cigarette.

“Sorry honey. Didn’t see you there,” the woman said in the hoarse, croaky voice of someone who had smoked their entire life. “You the new one?”

Tav nodded.

“I’m Tav,” she greeted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Linda,” the woman said curtly. “I live next door. Now…”

A beat of silence came as Linda took another long drag from the cigarette between her boney fingers. Tav looked at her for a moment and a smile tugged on her lips from the slight awkwardness of the pause that was just a moment too long.

“I won’t stop you from listening to loud music,” Linda continued after letting out a trail of smoke. “but I’ve got a heart condition, so be considerate of that. No blasting loud music out of nowhere. Turn the volume up gradually, you hear?”

Tav nodded again with a polite smile.

“I’ll remember that.”

She watched Linda’s bright turquoise nails tickled at her nose as she took another deep drag from the cigarette, all while she was watching her skeptically through her matching turquoise eyelids.

Tav’s eyes lingered on the cigarette for a moment. She cleared her throat.

“I know it’s not nice to test the hospitality of my neighbors from the get-go, but could I maybe borrow a cigarette?” Tav asked.

Linda blew out a cloud of smoke and slowly retrieved her pack from the maroon fanny pack around her waist. She opened the lid so she could take one. Tav placed it in her mouth and then looked from Linda’s face to her fanny pack.

“Could I borrow a lighter too?” Tav asked when she made no move to hand her one.

Linda fiddled with her bag at the same slow pace before pulling out a lighter and lighting the cigarette for her.

“Are you capable of smoking it yourself or do you need assistance with that too?” Linda quipped.

Tav grinned and took a drag of the cigarette. The nicotine made her body relax immediately.

She could already tell that she would like Linda. She knew her type because her old neighborhood had been filled with Lindas. She always had a weakness for those no-bullshit, chain-smoking ladies who you could see from the first glance had seen some shit in their life.

They should not be underestimated. They were always brutally honest, and they always had all the gossip.  

Linda looked her up and down and narrowed her eyes in thought.

“Yeah, you’re a pretty one,” Linda mused. “It won’t take long, no…Not long indeed.”

“For what?”

“For the master of the house to try and get in your pants,” Linda answered casually. “If he can get his cock out of Raha for even a second, that is. She’s a nympho. Watch out for that one. She’s one of those bisexuals or what you call them.”

Tav’s eyes widened, and she grinned at the candidness of her words.

“Yeah?” Tav said, a bit lost for words. “Interesting. Raphael a bit too old for me, I’m afraid.”

“He’s too old for Raha too but that doesn’t stop him,” Linda said with a huff and put out her cigarette. “Have you met with the others yet?”

Tav shook her head and took another drag of her cigarette.

“I’ve seen you and someone named John,” she said. “That’s it.”

“John has dementia,” Linda said bluntly. “He doesn’t talk much anymore. You haven’t met Raha and Oscar then. Raha is the nympho, Oscar is…”

She put her finger to her head and made the universal sign for craziness.

“I see,” Tav said. “Are you all close?”

“You’ve got to stay close in this madhouse,” Linda sighed. “We meet in the chapel usually. I’ll take you there.”

They went to the chapel. It was a piece of beautiful architecture, but it was very clear that it had not been used as a chapel for quite some time. Some of the benches had been arranged around tables that had been pulled inside from elsewhere.

Except for the fresco on the ceiling, the stained glass on the windows, and the cross on the wall, the chapel just looked like a well-used room for socializing and shared activities.

The three other residents were already in there.

John that she had met earlier was there, eating a pastry of some sort with shaking hands. Next to him sat a younger man in his thirties, who she guessed was Oscar.

Oscar was nervously biting at his nailbeds. He was brown-haired and looked up at her with the most beautiful and vivid green eyes she had ever seen. His eyes flicked over her.

Next to Oscar sat who could only be Raha: a gorgeous young woman with olive skin, dark hair and even darker eyes. She was playing with Oscar’s hair, which he seemed quite uncomfortable with.

“Everyone, Tav,” Linda said and gestured to her. “Tav, everyone. Come sit with us. Sit next to John. He doesn’t bite.”

Tav sat down and John turned to look at her with slight confusion.

“Maria?” John spoke quietly in a hoarse voice, his eyes lighting up a bit.

Linda gave a sympathetic sigh.

“Maria died, John,” Linda said in a loud voice so that the elderly man could hear her better. “This is a new one. Tav.”

“Tav…” John mumbled before returning his eyes to the pastry in his hands.

“Maria had your apartment before,” Linda explained and lit another cigarette. “Nice girl. She was about your age, which is why John’s confused. Tragic what happened to her… Aneurysm. It can even happen to the young ones.”

Tav noticed how Oscar’s eyes narrowed at that statement for some reason. He looked at Tav. His eyes flicked just above her head for some reason. He stared for a moment. Instinctively, Tav fixed her hair, expecting to find a leaf that had landed on her or something, but there was nothing. Oscar looked her in the eyes again.

“Did you already sign?” Oscar asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tav answered. “Signed just about an hour ago. I’ll live next to Linda.”

“A pity,” Oscar mumbled in a dark tone.

Linda rolled her eyes and then looked at Tav, as if to tell her not to take him seriously.  

“What do you do, Tav?” Raha asked in an almost sultry tone. “Are you going to work here with us?”

“Uh, no,” she answered. “I already have a job, so… I have lectures to go to, so I can’t really avoid going into town anyway. My workplace isn’t far from where I study.”

Raha smiled and nodded. Her canines looked unnaturally sharp as she smiled. Her eyes trailed down to look at Tav’s cleavage. Tav pulled up the neckline of her shirt a bit and cleared her throat.

“Do you all work here?”

“Yes,” Raha said and reluctantly pulled her eyes away from Tav’s tits. “We all have our duties around here. Oscar fixes things and takes care of the garden, John is an assistant of sorts, Linda cleans…”

“And you?” Tav asked.

Raha’s gave her another toothy smile.

“A bit of this and a bit of that…” she said in a suggestive tone. “Mostly I just keep the master of the house happy.”

“Mhm,” Tav said with a nod and quickly changed the subject. “So…why is it that you all meet out here? I thought I saw a meeting room for the tenants on the map…”

“He doesn’t come here,” Oscar quickly said. “Raphael never comes out here.”

“That’s not to say that we hate the boss,” Linda quickly added and looked at Tav. “But he can be a bit controlling and nitpicky at times. Sometimes it’s nice to have a separation between church and state, so to say. A space where you can get away for a bit.”

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Tav mumbled.

“Speaking of churches,” Linda said and pointed to the corner of the room. “If you are religious there’s a little altar and some candles over there. No one but John really uses it, but he can share.”

Tav looked to where she was pointing and then nodded. There was a table with some candles and a small cross on it. She had never been particularly religious, so it didn’t matter a whole lot to her.

Linda checked the turquoise watch around her wrist.

“I’ve got work duty,” Linda said and took a final drag of her cigarette before putting it out. “Oscar, can’t you take care of the new one? Walk her back to her apartment and keep Raha away from her.”

Raha moved her hand to her heart in mock-offense at her words.

“Don’t be jealous, Lin,” Raha purred. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Linda huffed at her before walking out. Tav looked at Oscar and gave him a polite smile. He sighed before getting up from his seat.

“Come on then.”

“Hey about what you said earlier,” Tav said. “What did you mean by that? That it was a pity?”

Oscar was taking her through a huge garden. It was a different route than the one Linda had taken her on. The gardens were just as perfectly kept and beautiful as the rest of the house.

Oscar gave a small shrug.

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“Come on, now,” Tav urged. “Did I make a mistake by signing?”

Oscar looked at her with those green eyes of his. There was a tinge of sadness in his eyes and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “There’s no way out now anyway.”

“Please. Give me something. Moving brings enough anxiety in itself. I just want to know what I’m walking into. Is this all a scam? I had a feeling that it was.”

Oscar gave a long, tired sigh and shook his head.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me. Please.”

He considered her for a moment. Their surroundings were beginning to look familiar now, meaning that they couldn’t be far from her apartment.

“Would you believe me if I said that you will never escape from here again?” Oscar said in a hushed tone. “That I’m not as crazy as the others make me out to be…that there is something seriously wrong with this place and…him.”

“Raphael?”

“Yes,” he said in an even quieter tone. “He’s not human, and I mean that in the most literal sense. Something is wrong with this place.”

Tav gave a sympathetic nod. She had dealt with people similar to him before. She had seen people with drug-induced psychoses. Drugs sometimes made her feel a little crazy too. Hallucinations, auditory and visual, and the delusions…

She was trying to determine what kind of crazy Oscar was.

“I see,” she said softly. “What is he then?”

“He’s not from here,” Oscar muttered and then looked at her with growing defeat in his eyes as he watched her expression. “You don’t believe me,” he said with a sad smile. “That’s alright…Just…take care. Your apartment is over there.”

Oscar pointed at her front door and then left before she could say anything. Now she felt terrible. She had not meant to be patronizing, just understanding. She sighed and walked in.

There was a letter stuck to the door of her apartment. She took it off before walking inside. It looked very official with a red wax seal and everything.

She opened it. It was an invitation to have dinner with Raphael.

Tav was led into the grand dining room of the estate by John who had greeted her at the door. The dining room was as lavish as the rest of the house. There were candles lit everywhere, shining their orange light over the gold and red furniture of the room.

The table was already set. It seemed that it was just going to be Raphael and her. Raphael lit up when he saw her. She self-consciously adjusted her clothes.

“I feel severely underdressed,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle. “My things haven’t gotten here yet, so…”

“Nonsense,” Raphael said. “You look fine just how you are. Please, sit.”

She sat down. Raphael took his seat at the head of the table.

“This is simply a little tradition we have here,” Raphael explained. “I find it useful to get to know who lives underneath my roof. Don’t feel nervous, dear. It is not an interrogation. Just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” she repeated with a nod. “Well. I’m an open book.”

Raphael poured a glass of wine for her and then himself.

“Let us get the unpleasantries out of the way, hm?” he said. “I was curious about this former boyfriend of yours. Your mother told me of his unsavory occupation. I trust he won’t be an issue for us?”

“No, no. It’s done and over with. He won’t come here or anything.”

“Good,” Raphael said with a smile. “His presence may prove difficult for one of our tenants. I won’t gossip, but you are not the only one who has had trouble with narcotics.”

“Okay,” Tav said with a tight smile and held up a hand to stop him. “I want to explain myself, because I feel like my mom might have filled your ears with her usual overexaggerated stories. I’m not really a drug addict.”

“No?” Raphael asked and took a bite of his food.

“No, not really,” she continued. “I did drugs, yes, but I wasn’t…’addicted’ to cocaine or to weed or to LSD or whatever. I just needed a little escape from reality every now and again, that’s all. I distanced myself from it when I felt like I was losing control over it. I’m clean now.”

Raphael gave a thoughtful hum and swirled the wine in his glass. He looked her over and a smile tugged on his lips.

“You would not say that a continuous craving for an escape or distractions is an addiction in itself?” Raphael challenged.

She bit the inside of her cheek in slight annoyance with how he pressed the subject. Also, in annoyance with how truthful that statement had described her former problems, but she would never admit that. She forced a small smile.

“I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “What can I say? I get bored easily and I have a hard time dealing with it. That’s all it is.”

She had always felt that way. She needed to be fully engaged in something interesting for her to feel like she was even alive. She needed something to obsess over. When she did drugs, everything was interesting. It was a nice replacement for a while, but at some point, even that became boring.

“Well, I can assure you that you won’t be bored here,” he said with a smile. “What were you trying to escape from, I wonder? Your boyfriend, perhaps?”

She shook her head.

“Just life, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “No, Luke was fine. Nicest and most understanding boyfriend I have ever had, actually. I told him I couldn’t be with him because he did drugs. The truth is that I couldn’t be with him because I did drugs. He was a bit of a pushover, so telling him not to sell to me when I asked him didn’t really work, unfortunately.”

“Sounds like a painful separation,” he said.

“It was…” she said. “But it’s all over now. The relationship and the drugs. Things will be very different…”

She didn’t understand why she was telling him all of this, but still, she did. She felt as if she constantly needed to explain herself these days. It was as if she had a big brand on her forehead that said ‘addict’ and it was her new life’s purpose to explain that to everyone.

She cleared her throat.

“What about you?” she asked.

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“What about me?”

“Who are you?” Tav asked and took a bite of her food. “Other than a very charitable landlord, I mean.”

Raphael leaned back in his seat and swirled the wine in his glass with a smirk.

“Your new neighbors haven’t spoken to you about me? I find that difficult to believe.”

“Only very little,” Tav said. “I’m sure your answer is different from theirs, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he purred. “Though I am still very curious about what they have said so far.”

Tav took a long sip of her wine, which gave her a moment to think about what she could say without getting her fellow tenants into trouble. They all worked for him, after all. She didn’t want to jeopardize anyone’s livelihood or living accommodations by accident.

“Well,” Tav finally said and cleared her throat. “I got the idea that you are pretty close with your tenants. Other than that, it was mostly sort of confusing statements. Oscar believes you’re an alien or something, which wasn’t super helpful information.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that. Tav smiled and laughed along with him.

“He’s a very imaginative boy that one,” he said in an amused tone. “I believe he thinks I’m the devil. That is the usual warning he gives to newcomers.”

“The devil? Wow,” Tav said with a chuckle. “What did you do to earn that title?”

Raphael gave an almost coy shrug and sipped his wine.

“I pride myself on my ability to help people, but it is hard to do so when someone does not want to be helped. I suppose I might have lost my temper once but believe me when I say that it was only because I cared about what happened to our dear Oscar.”

Tav nodded in understanding as he explained.

“He is a very sweet and smart young man…whenever he remembers to take his medicine, that is, which is less and less these days. Though you will have no trouble with him. Even when he is off his medication, he has never been known to be violent or troublesome.”

“I see,” Tav said. “You still haven’t answered my original question though.”

Raphael gave her another shrug.

“It is a difficult question to answer,” he said. “I am many things, and I have my fingers in many pies, as they say. There is no set job description, but I can assure you that the most important work I do, I do here. Nothing is as rewarding as seeing my residents just…blossom.”

He smiled at her. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. A glint in his eye or something. She wasn’t sure. There was definitely something up with this man, she felt. She brushed it off for now.

Raphael poured her more wine and continued their chat for a while before Tav headed home to sleep her first night in her new home.

It was getting dark outside. Tav was making her bed when she heard an odd noise. She paused her movements for a moment, but it seemed as if the noise disappeared the moment she did so. She shook her head and wrote it down as her being jittery over sleeping someplace new.

She tried closing the troublesome window again. She grabbed the handle and pulled it shut, but it would still not go all the way down. She tried yanking harder on it, but nothing happened. She pulled harder on the handle, but then it would not go down at all.

She sighed and once again gave up.

She pulled her pants off and got under the covers. She gave a small sigh of relief as she lay down on the bed. It felt as if her spine aligned for the first time in months. The mattress was the perfect balance of firm and soft against her back.

She turned off the light. The moment she did, the noise returned.

It seemed to come from outside. It was a low, windy, moaning sound. She didn’t feel like getting up, so she squinted and looked out of the dysfunctional window. She could see on the trees and bushes of the barely lit garden, that there was no wind that was making the noise.

She was too tired and too comfortable to care at that moment. The house was ancient, after all. It was bound to make weird noises every now and again. She brushed it off and closed her eyes.

She quickly drifted into that state between being awake and being asleep. The noise became louder and clearer. She could have sworn that it suddenly sounded like a thousand people wailing and wheezing in despair.

Sleep quickly seemed to swallow her whole regardless.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.8

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 7 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

In this part, I'll be using lyrics from Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft light streaming through the curtains, your body sinking into the plush hotel bed. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Everything felt surreal—Mark’s betrayal, the whirlwind of emotions, and how quickly your life had flipped upside down. It was hard to believe that only days ago, everything had seemed so normal.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you from your thoughts. But before you could grab it, there was a gentle knock on the door. You frowned, climbing out of bed to answer it.

Outside stood a hotel staff member holding a tray with a beautifully arranged breakfast—pancakes, fresh fruit, and a pot of coffee. Confused, you accepted it, thanking them before closing the door.

As you set the tray on the small table by the window, you noticed a folded note tucked beside the coffee cup. Opening it, you immediately recognized Oscar’s handwriting.

"Good morning, I had to leave early to get ready for the race, but I wanted to make sure you had something nice to start your day. I hope this helps, even if just a little. And don’t feel pressured to come to the race—I completely understand if you need time to yourself. Take care, Oscar."

A soft smile spread across your face as you read the note. His thoughtfulness warmed your heart, easing some of the lingering ache from the previous day.

You ate the breakfast slowly, savoring the moment of peace and the small comfort Oscar had offered. After finishing, you decided it was time to head home. The idea of retreating to the familiarity of your apartment felt like the right choice.

Packing didn’t take long, and soon you were on a plane back to your city. The flight was uneventful, but your mind kept drifting to the events of the weekend—the unexpected kindness from Oscar, the laughter you shared, and the way he’d been there when you needed someone most.

As the plane landed, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a notification from the race. You opened it to see a photo of the McLaren team celebrating on the podium. Lando had finished second, with Oscar taking third.

A rush of happiness and pride filled you, momentarily overshadowing the sadness. You quickly typed out messages to both of them.

To Lando: "Congrats on the P2, Lando! Amazing race today—you absolutely smashed it!"

To Oscar: "Oscar, P3!! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations, you deserve it so much!"

It didn’t take long for them to reply.

From Lando: "Thanks, Y/N! We missed you today, but whenever you want to come to another race, let us know. Would love to have you back!"

From Oscar: "Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot. Lando’s right—you’re welcome anytime. Hope you’re doing okay."

Their messages brought a smile to your face. Even though you hadn’t been at the race, their support and warmth made you feel included.

As you arrived back at your apartment, you set your bags down and sighed, exhaustion catching up with you. But amidst all the chaos and heartbreak, there was a glimmer of something new—a feeling that, despite the changes, you’d be okay. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the stillness felt heavy but oddly comforting. You moved to your small music room, a sanctuary where you had poured your soul into countless songs. The familiar hum of your guitar and the faint smell of worn leather from the seat gave you a sense of grounding.

Sitting down, you stared at the blank notebook in front of you. A flurry of emotions swirled within—heartbreak, gratitude, betrayal, and the faintest trace of hope. The weight of it all felt suffocating, but you knew one way to let it out: music.

You picked up your guitar, the strings cool under your fingers, and strummed a few chords. The melody came first, raw and aching, reflecting the turmoil in your chest. Words followed, spilling out onto the page as if they had been waiting for this moment.

"You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You'd talk to her When we were together Loved you at your worst But that didn't matter."

The first song flowed effortlessly, a raw, aching reflection of the heartbreak still fresh in your chest. But as soon as it was done, another began to take shape—one fueled by frustration, betrayal, and the desperate need to let go of the past.

This wasn’t soft or bittersweet. This was fire.

You tightened your grip on the guitar and strummed harder, the melody sharper, the beat more aggressive. The words poured out like venom, a cathartic release of everything you hadn’t said.

"And in plain sight you hid But you are what you did And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive The smallest man who ever lived"

Hours passed, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting warm orange hues across the room. By the time you set your guitar down, your notebook was filled with new lyrics, raw and unfiltered. It felt like you had opened a vein and let everything pour out, leaving you exhausted but lighter.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the pages. These songs felt different from anything you’d written before. They were deeper, more personal. They weren’t just tracks for an album—they were pieces of you.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your manager’s number. She picked up almost immediately.

"Y/N, hey! How are you holding up?" her voice was cautious but warm.

"I’m… okay, I think, I will be okay," you said, surprising yourself with how true it felt. "Listen, I’ve been working on some songs, and I think there’s something here. Something big."

Her tone shifted instantly to excitement. "Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?"

"Yeah," you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. "I think a new album is coming."

You could hear her excitement bursting through the phone. "That’s amazing! I knew you’d find a way to channel everything into your music. When can I hear it?"

"Soon," you promised. "But I need some time to finish writing and figure out the direction. It’s still… fresh."

"Of course, take all the time you need," she said. "But Y/N, I’m so proud of you. I know this hasn’t been easy, but this—this is going to be incredible. I can feel it."

After hanging up, you sat in the dim room for a moment, letting her words settle. The album was still in its infancy, but it felt right, like this was exactly what you were meant to be doing.

Standing, you stretched and glanced at your notebook, the scribbled lyrics and chord progressions waiting for you to bring them to life. This wasn’t just music—it was healing. And while the road ahead still felt uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you were ready to turn the page and start this new chapter.

[irkimatsu]

I was thinking about it, I wonder how Husk and his partner spend Valentine’s Day? Does Husk find it to be a waste but celebrate anyway for the sake of spoiling his partner? Is he enthusiastic about it? I’d personally imagine going like all out with a reservation dinner, dancing, and stargazing but that’s just me! I don’t care I just want an excuse to spoil that old man! Give Husk a basket of playing cards so he can show off his skills with pure happiness! 💖

If you ask Husk about Valentine's Day while he's still single, he'll laugh in your face. Valentine's Day is a bullshit holiday that preys on a bullshit emotion. Do you seriously think people can like each other enough to spend the rest of their lives together? Sure, romance can be nice at first, but it'll all fall apart so spectacularly that it's not worth starting it. After his second divorce while alive, he gave up on dating entirely. If you wanna fuck someone, just fuck 'em, no need to get bullshit feelings involved.

(Oh, sure, it's nice being in love, and he'd love to be able to keep that feeling for someone forever, to care about someone so deeply and feel so cared about in return... but how could that be possible, after all he's been through? It's easier for him to think that romance as a whole is unattainable bullshit. If he spends too long dwelling on the idea that maybe it's just him that's unworthy of love, maybe even incapable, it's gonna make his drinking even worse.)

But something changes when he gets attached to you. You've been staying at the Hotel for a while, but recently he's been feeling a spark in his heart for you. Husk is the type that falls slowly and rarely, but when he does finally fall he's head over heels. He tries to drown the feelings with booze. He can't do this, not again, he can't get hurt again, he can't risk hurting someone he loves again-

But eventually, he has to give in. It's too strong for him to ignore, and the idea of you falling for someone else is starting to haunt his nightmares. He's always been a gambling man, after all... how can he resist such a high risk/high reward challenge?

Once he's finally admitted to someone that he's in love, especially when he's still in that honeymoon phase, his opinion on Valentine's Day turns around completely. He loves spoiling his partner any time of the year, and even in Hell, Valentine's Day opens so many opportunities for that.

(Yes, if you want to be cynical, you can talk about how those opportunities are all over because of soulless companies like VoxTek trying to make a quick buck. Husk has sure as fuck ranted about that before. But right now he doesn't care, he's in too deep.)

Reservation dinner and dancing are absolutely Husk's idea of romance. He takes you you out to one of his favorite jazz bars, and after an indulgent dinner he'll pay for himself (he probably owes some Hotel residents money after this), he teaches you to dance to the live music. The band starts off with fun, fast songs, with Husk teaching you matching dances, but soon the music slows down, and if you'll let him he's more than happy to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close... softly sway with you, look into your eyes, marvel at the fact that you're here with him like this, that he's finally feeling this way again, god he does not want to screw this up...

You step outside with him so he can have a smoke, then without going back inside, you resume dancing to the music you can faintly hear, swaying under Hell's night sky... have the stars in Hell ever been this bright before? Is it just him?

Love... he can't bring himself to say that word to you yet. He certainly doesn't have the guts to invite you to his room when you get back to the Hotel; he'd never forgive himself if he made you believe he was just trying to get sex out of you. If he was still an Overlord, sure, he'd have charmed your clothes off before you even got through his bedroom door; but he's not doing that this time. This time matters.

Doesn't mean he's not thinking it. Laying alone in his bed, imagining what it'd be like to have you sleeping by his side, to have your bare body pressed so close to his...

He whispers "I love you" into the dark so faintly, as if worried you'll somehow hear him from your own room down the hall.

Maybe Valentine's Day isn't such a waste after all.

[cry1ngame]

BACK TO YOU

Drew McIntyre

- First ever post! Fem pov, cursing, may be a few mistakes I've glossed over, I've had part of this story saved in my notes for a long while but after this week's raw I HAD to continue it. ( Drew McIntyre my beloved )

You had been dodging him for weeks - literal weeks - and that didn't stop him from constantly trying to get in front of you, larger than life, with a smirk that said he knew exactly how much he was throwing you off your game. Drew McIntyre. The Scottish Psychopath. That Drew McIntyre. You didn’t think you’d done that much to get on his radar. Sure, you were killing it by climbing the ranks, match after match, win after win. Your face was starting to plaster itself on posters, advertisements, and highlight reels. People were noticing you. But Drew McIntyre noticing you? That felt...big. And honestly, a little alarming. At first, you thought it was jealousy. Maybe he didn’t like the attention you were getting. Maybe your growing momentum annoyed him. But no, he’d made it clear (in the most frustratingly confident way possible) that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t mad about your rise. Hell, he was happy for you. Said he was proud of what you were doing. The problem, according to him, was that you were doing it alone. He thought you had potential - more than potential. He thought you were destined for greatness, the kind of greatness that came from being at his side. He wanted to mentor you, partner with you, and create an alliance. He claimed you. He just wished, you know, that circumstances were a little different. Like, maybe you should be killing it with him. That’s right. Drew McIntyre wanted to team up. Which, to be fair, sounded great on paper….if he wasn’t embroiled in every ounce of drama under the sun. The Bloodline? Check. CM Punk? Check. Random chaos at every turn? Double check. But you? You weren’t a team player. Never had been. You were a lone wolf from day one. Sure, there’d been a tag match or two along the way ( obligatory stuff, for the views ) but alliances? Long-term partnerships? Not your style. You thrived on independence. Did your own thing, earned your own victories, made your own name. And Drew, frustratingly enough, respected that about you. Admired it, even. He just thought, “Hey, maybe you could be even greater with me.” I mean, he even called you the prodigal one ( second to him ).

But every week, you shut him down. Again. And again. And again. At first, it was the baggage he had...his drama-filled life wasn’t exactly appealing. But then you realized the truth - you loved the chase. Sure, you still preferred working alone, but this back-and-forth? The tension? The game? It was intoxicating. Drew might’ve been dead serious, but you? You were having fun. Not that he didn’t get under your skin every now and then. You still remember the day it all started. The Royal Rumble was on the horizon, and you were determined. This was your moment, your shot. The crowd was behind you, the energy electric. And then…his music hit.

Drew McIntyre.

He walked down the aisle, microphone in hand, head dipped low. His shadow stretched across the ramp and you could imagine the smirk on his features before you even saw it. He climbed into the ring swiftly, his towering frame making you feel so very small.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” he said, extending a hand like this was some kind of networking event. “Drew. Drew McIntyre.”

You raised the mic, ready to respond, but nothing came out. You weren’t exactly sure why he, of all people, had decided to interrupt you. You’d never crossed paths before. Not backstage. Not in the ring. Not even a sideways glance.

“Oh, sorry.” Drew took a mockingly apologetic step back, his smirk widening. “You’re confused, yeah? Don’t worry, I get ahead of myself sometimes. Jump right in without explaining. Allow me to fix that.” You stood there, rooted to the spot, the microphone still in your hand but forgotten as Drew stared at you. The crowd was eating it up, cheers ringing through the arena, wondering how this would play out with you two strangers, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was Drew McIntyre. “You’ve been making waves, aye?” Drew began, pacing the ring in front of you. “Winning matches, catching the eye of management, getting the crowd behind you. I mean, look at them!” He swept a hand toward the audience, who instinctively erupted into another cheer, and you felt your cheeks flush despite yourself. “They love you. They’re invested in your story. They see what I see.”

Your brow furrowed slightly at that last line, your brain catching up with his words. What did he see?

Drew stopped pacing, turning to face you fully now. He tilted his head, a knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Still no words, eh? That’s alright. I like a good listener. But let me make one thing crystal clear-” He stepped closer, and the air between you seemed to charge with something unidentifiable. “I’m not out here to take anything from you. I’m not out here to dim your spotlight or put you in your place, as they say.” His smirk turned almost wolfish, “I’m out here because I see potential in you. Potential that’s being squandered.”

The crowd gasped, and you blinked, finally snapping out of your daze. Squandered? Did he just say squandered? Your lips parted, and you raised your mic, but Drew placed his hand on it, pushing it down before you could speak.

“Ah, let me finish, please,” he said it like he wasn’t really asking. “I’m not saying you’re not doing well. Quite the opposite, actually. You’re thriving. But you’re thriving alone. And while I respect the whole lone wolf schtick, believe me, I’ve been there, I can’t help but wonder…” He leaned in slightly, a breath away from you. “How much further could you go with someone like me by your side?”

Your mind raced, replaying everything he’d said up until this point, and for a brief moment, you found yourself considering it. But then you shook your head slightly, the tiniest movement, and Drew noticed. Of course, he noticed.

He straightened up, chuckling softly, the sound low and almost… amused? “Ah, I see,” he said, taking a step back, giving you space. “You’re skeptical. That’s fair. I’d be the same in your shoes. But let me ask you this.” He gestured toward the titantron, where a montage of your highlights began to play, your most recent victories. “Is this enough for you? Are you satisfied with being good when you could be great?”

Immediately, you raised your mic, finally finding your voice. “Why do you care?” you asked, “What’s in it for you, Drew?”

He grinned at that, a genuine, almost boyish grin that took you by surprise. “Now that is a good question,” he said, nodding in approval. “And the answer is simple. I care because I’ve been where you are. I’ve walked this path, and I’ve seen what happens when you try to do it all on your own. I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I did.”

Suddenly, you felt a flicker of something other than confusion. Was it….understanding? No, you shook the thought away. You weren’t about to fall for his charm or his words. “Thanks for the advice,” you said finally, “but I’ve been doing just fine on my own. And I don’t need anyone, especially not you, to tell me how to succeed.”

Drew chuckled again, this time with a hint of frustration, and for a moment, you thought he might press the issue. But instead, he took another step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright then,” he said, “But don’t say I didn’t offer you soon enough.” With that, he turned and exited the ring, his music hitting again as he walked back up the ramp. But before he disappeared backstage, he glanced over his shoulder, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours one last time. At that moment, you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Week after week, it was the same routine. Drew McIntyre would just happen to bump into you, like clockwork. Oh, and he’d always play it off as a complete accident too. “Oh, didn’t see you there!” Like he wasn’t a six-foot-five wall of Scottish muscle with the stealth of a freight train. And then, with that disarming grin, he’d launch into some casual small talk. “How’s your day been?” he’d ask, all innocently, as if he hadn’t been strategically timing these “accidental” run-ins like he was plotting a heist. You weren’t stupid. You knew the guy had probably analyzed your whole routine like it was game tape. He seemed to have mapped out your water breaks, gym sessions, and post-match cooldowns just to stage these little encounters. And the worst part? It was kind of working. Not that you’d let him know that.

You almost tripped over yourself completely when the staff asked you to join commentary as a special guest one night. It sounded simple enough - sit down, watch some matches, sprinkle in your witty insights, maybe drop a one-liner or two. Easy! But no one bothered to mention who was lined up for a match that night.

Drew McIntyre. Of fucking course.

The moment his music hit, your once bubbly and confident persona took a nosedive. You went from charming and talkative to awkward and painfully aware of the walking hurricane now striding down the ramp. And Drew? He noticed. He noticed everything. Mid-match, as he laid waste to his poor opponent, Seth Rollins, he still found time to torment you. After slamming the man into the mat with the kind of force that made the entire ring rattle, Drew would glance your way. Sometimes he’d wave, like you were just an old friend in the crowd. Other times, he’d tilt his head at you, as if he were trying to crack open your skull and figure you out.

And you? Your attempts to play it cool were failing spectacularly. A simple question from the loveable Micheal Cole - “What do you think of Drew’s strategy here?” - felt like a trap. What were you supposed to say? “Oh, yeah, he’s terrifyingly good at his job, but can he stop staring at me for like five seconds?” Yeah, that wouldn’t fly. You really thought the torture was over when Drew had his win, did his signature post-match victory flex, and was presumably on his way to the locker room. But that wasn't the end of the story. Nope, you were wrong. So, so wrong. It was Drew McIntyre. And Drew McIntyre isn’t the kind of guy to let things lie when there’s an opportunity to stir the pot. You still remember how your heart practically jumped into your throat when he slipped out of the ring. His massive frame was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving from the match, but instead of heading for the ramp, he made a beeline for, you guessed it, the commentary table. Your first instinct? Lean back. Your second? Glare daggers at him. But the man was unfazed. No, he actually thrived off your discomfort.

With deliberate slowness, he placed a single hand on the table, leaning over just enough to close the gap between you. The sweat dripping from his brow only made him look more menacing. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it was like time froze. No words, no smirk, no witty quip. Just that silent, piercing stare. You gripped the armrests of your chair like they were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, refusing to flinch. It was a standoff, a painfully long one. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Drew straightened up, with the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as if to say, "Alright, you win this round." And then, just like that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving you to exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in your throat.

You thought this whole cat-and-mouse game with Drew McIntyre would stay fun, but there were times when things started to heat up. And not the kind of heat that gets the crowd going, either. No, it was something else. Something a little too intense. You couldn’t tell if that made the chase more thrilling or just downright nerve-wracking. Probably both. Definitely both.

You remember one night in particular. Oh, you remember it very well.

“You’re so damn selfish.”

The words hit you like a slap. You’d just walked off the heels of a brutal match, your body aching and your mind replaying every hit you’d taken, embarrassing you. The last thing you expected, or wanted, was Drew standing there, waiting for you like some storm cloud ready to burst. His tone wasn’t playful, not cocky or teasing like usual. It was sharp. Raw. A little too real. You stopped in your tracks, staring up at the ceiling like you were asking whatever the hell was above in the heavens for divine intervention. Anything to avoid meeting his gaze. Maybe if you prayed hard enough, he’d just….evaporate. ( Spoiler alert! he didn’t! ) When you finally looked forward, your heart sank faster than a wrestler getting powerbombed. Drew was right in front of you, his shadow swallowing you whole. You’d think by now, after all the weeks of close encounters, you’d be used to his suffocating presence.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His voice was low as he jabbed a finger between you and himself. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a demand. It was an order. And for the first time in this little game of yours, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to play anymore.

Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you wanted to keep playing.

. . .

In reality, your hypocrisy knew no bounds. You’d sworn to steer clear of Drew’s mess, to avoid his drama like it was a tag team match you weren’t booked for. Yet, another faithful night, you perched yourself on one of those battered backstage crates, legs dangling like some carefree kid at summer camp, transfixed as hell. And what had your attention? One of his promos. Seth Rollins, CM Punk, and Drew McIntyre, all squaring off in a verbal slugfest that somehow felt more violent than most actual matches. Drew was holding his ground, trading barbs like a man with nothing to lose and everything to prove. It was riveting, okay? You hated to admit it, but for those few minutes, you might as well have been just another fan sitting in the expensive seats with merch and popcorn.

“God, he’s insane-” you muttered to yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. Insane was probably an understatement. The man seemed to collect enemies like other people collected Funko Pops. And you hated that you…liked it. Drew wasn’t just playing chess; he was flipping the board over, setting the pieces on fire, and daring everyone else to deal with it. The promo ended with Drew walking off, his mic-drop moment lingering in the air like smoke after The American Nightmare’s three pyro displays. He stormed down the aisle and into the backstage area. And then, like fate ( or mischief ) had decided to pull a fast one, his eyes landed on you. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled, all child-like.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you drawled, leaning back against the wall, “I’d say you’re all for the drama.” You tilted your head, sizing him up with the kind of playful curiosity that was half a tease and half a challenge. “Do you, like, keep a checklist of everyone in the locker room you’ve yet to piss off? Or is it more of a spin-the-wheel situation?”

Drew stopped in his tracks, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement so fast it was almost dizzying. He cocked an eyebrow, that trademark smirk creeping across his face. “Oh, I don’t need a checklist,” he shot back, his Scottish brogue dripping with sarcasm. “It’s more of an art form, really. You wouldn’t understand. I mean, you would if you, y'know - tagged along.”

You let out a soft laugh, kicking your feet a little for emphasis. “An art form? Please. You’re like a walking soap opera, McIntyre. And the worst part is, you know it.”

“And yet,” He said, his voice dropping just enough to make you lean in slightly, “you’re watching. So pray tell, do you enjoy the show?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you met his gaze. “Don’t get it twisted, McIntyre. I like watching you from afar. But, I don't want front-row seats to your circus shit.”

He studied you for a moment, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “Fair enough,” he said finally, taking a step back. “But if you ever change your mind…” He let the offer hang in the air before turning and walking away.

You watched him go, the corner of your mouth quirking upward despite yourself. Front-row seats? Not a chance. But sneaking a peek every now and then? Maybe.

. . .

You told yourself you had bigger things to focus on - mainly the Royal Rumble, which was practically breathing down your neck. All the fans were counting on your win. With only a week left, you needed laser focus. To your surprise, Drew seemed to understand that. Or at least, he pretended to. He backed off. No sudden interruptions, no cryptic stares from across the room, no impromptu speeches about your "wasted potential." And yet….you couldn’t help but feel off with that. Where was the usual chaos? The aggravating, borderline charming mind games from the man who appeared to be some kind of Scottish God? You tried to ignore the faint pang of disappointment every time you walked backstage, expecting him to appear, only to find yourself alone. Well, almost alone...because occasionally, Drew would stroll by, smirk in your direction like he knew something you didn’t, and then kept walking. And yeah, maybe that smirk made your pulse do something it absolutely shouldn’t. But you didn’t have time for that. No. No. No. Head down, full steam ahead. Unfortunately, focusing on the Rumble wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Case in point - being saddled with a random match against Liv Morgan. You weren’t exactly thrilled. Liv wasn’t your favorite person, but you respected her...a little. Okay, maybe barely. But she didn’t make it easy, with her need to talk and talk and talk and- whatever. Still, you showed up. That’s what you did. Match after match, day after day, even the ones you didn’t ask for. You stepped into the ring with Liv, and from the get-go, she was already running her mouth like her paycheck depended on it.

“You’re all alone,” she sneered, her long blonde hair swishing with that irritating laugh of hers echoing throughout the arena.

You couldn’t help it but you laughed. Not loud, not big, just a dry little chuckle under your breath. “Yeah? I work alone,” you shot back, deadpan.

Liv, ever dramatic, planted a hand on her hip and draped her other arm around Raquel Rodriguez’s shoulders, practically standing on her toes to reach her. The visual was almost enough to make you roll your eyes into the day of the royal rumble. “It’s good to have friends, you know?” Liv said, her tone syrupy sweet in the most nauseating way possible.

And that’s when you nearly facepalmed. This again? Was this your thing now? Everyone acting like your lack of alliances was some sort of existential crisis?

“Liv, don’t even-” you started, already knowing where this was going.

“Oh, no, no,” she cut you off, raising a hand. “I’m not saying you should come to my side. Ew. That’s frankly disgusting to even think about.” Her face twisted into a mock grimace before snapping back into her sassy smile. “What I am saying is that you should have someone watching your back. Someone to...I don’t know...back you up in the Rumble? I’m just warning you because I’m nice like that.”

You blinked at her, completely unimpressed. “Oh, you’re nice,” you said flatly. “That’s what this is?”

“Exactly!” Liv chirped.

For a second, you considered responding. Maybe calling her out on the thinly veiled condescension or pointing out how ridiculous her "advice" was. But then you decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Instead, you smirked, tilted your head, and let her dig her own hole. Because if there was one thing Liv Morgan hated, it was being ignored. And if she wanted to make an example out of you, she was about to learn the hard way. Hell everyone was going to learn at the rumble, you'd make sure of it.

. . .

You didn’t think much about Liv’s little “helpful” comments at first, I mean, why would you? But as the Royal Rumble loomed closer, something shifted. Tensions backstage were clear, crackling in the air like a thunderstorm. Everyone had the same goal - to win, to headline WrestleMania, to make themselves unforgettable! You were still focused on taking it all for yourself, but you’d be lying if you said the growing tension didn’t throw you off a little. The stink eye became a constant routine. Other women in the locker room were eyeing you like you were nothing more than a punching bag. You weren't stupid, you knew it wasn’t personal, ( okay, maybe it was personal ), but you also figured you weren’t the only one getting this treatment. Survival mode was kicking in for everyone, and apparently, giving dirty looks was a stress-relief hobby for half the roster. Still, you tried to brush it off, keeping your head down as you made your way through the halls. You were lost in your own thoughts, mapping out strategies and mentally preparing yourself for the chaos of the Rumble, when something, or someone, caught your attention. At the end of the hallway, there he was. Drew McIntyre, standing by one of the equipment crates, adjusting his gear. You stopped dead in your tracks, your stomach doing a weird little flip before you could help it. Damn it. Why did he always look like he’d stepped straight out of an action movie? His broad shoulders, his bare back…Nope. Nope. No. Stop staring. You swallowed hard, glancing away as if that could erase the fact you’d been ogling him for far longer than you cared to admit. But instead of turning around and walking away like you probably should have, you found your feet moving toward him. It wasn’t until you were just a few steps behind him that you realized you hadn’t really thought this through. What were you even going to say? You didn’t have a plan...you just... moved.

Still, you stood there, forcing yourself to speak. “You’ve been quiet lately,” you said, the words coming out more casual than you felt. Like you both were good buddies-

Drew straightened, glancing over his shoulder. When his gaze locked onto yours, his lips curved into that maddeningly confident smirk, the one that made you feel……well, something you didn’t want to think about too much. He turned fully to face you now, crossing his arms over his chest, making himself look bigger than he actually was. “Quiet?” he repeated, amused. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me.”

You blinked, taken aback by how easily he flipped the script. “I’m not,” you said quickly, though the slight defensive high pitched edge in your voice probably wasn’t helping your case. “I just…noticed something, that's all. You’re usually popping up everywhere, throwing your two cents in, but now? Silence.”

Drew tilted his head, his smirk softening. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I figured I’d give you some space. You’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? The Rumble, the spotlight….proving to everyone you can do it all on your own.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he knew he was poking at a sore spot.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms as well. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can! I know you can,” he said smoothly, his tone so infuriatingly agreeable that it almost sounded patronizing. “But handling it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone."

And there it was...the classic Drew McIntyre pitch. You should’ve seen it coming. You had no idea why you even bothered approaching him in the first place, but now that you had, you weren’t about to let him turn this into another “team up with me” speech.

“I’ve been doing just fine on my own,” you said firmly, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. “And I’ll win the Rumble the same way. Besides you've got your own damn rumble to worry about.”

Drew chuckled softly, shaking his head like you were missing some inside joke. “We’ll see,” he said simply. Then he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping low enough to send an uninvited shiver down your spine, his beard pricking your forehead. “Just don’t forget, I never play quiet for long.”

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours, just barely, but even that slight contact was enough to make you stumble, caught off guard by how ridiculously solid he was. You steadied yourself quickly, cheeks heating up as you glared after him. He didn’t look back. He just kept walking, all broad shoulders and confidence.You stood there for a moment, staring at him until he was gone, your mind a tangled mess of something jittering. Fuck him and his promises.

. . .

You dragged yourself out of those memories - Drew, the lead-up to the Royal Rumble, the side-eyes and whispers in the women’s locker room because none of that mattered. Not anymore. Because you were there. At the Royal Rumble. And what were you doing? Sitting backstage, watching the minutes tick by, mentally preparing for the war.

You sat further back from the rest of the women, away from the hushed voices and glares being thrown in your direction. You didn’t need to hear them to know exactly what they’re saying, how you were all talk, how you didn’t take teamwork seriously, how you though you were better than everyone else. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as if that could physically swat away their nonsense. Let them talk. Let them whisper and scheme and convince themselves that you aren’t everything you say you are. You specifically made sure to catch Liv Morgan’s eye and flash her a glare nasty enough to slice through steel. She got the message and she turned away.

Still, you sat there, watching people pass by, your mind unusually…..blank. Which was weird. Your brain was never blank. Maybe you were just focused? Too focused! Yeah, let’s go with that. Not nerves. Definitely not nerves. You rarely ever get nervous. You ran your fingers through your hair and shut your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. And then, just as you started to settle, you heard footsteps stop directly in front of you. You groaned, already preparing to shut down whoever thought that now was the perfect time to bother you. With an irritated sigh, you opened your eyes, ready to tell them exactly where they could shove their bad timing only to immediately lose your momentum the second you saw who was standing in front of you.

Drew. Of course it was him.

You leaned back instinctively as he loomed over you, his presence heavy even without a single word being spoken. “Drew…” You sighed, shifting under his stare. “Of all days, please. Not today.”

Silence.

You narrowed your eyes. “Drew?”

Nothing.

You knew this man loved his dramatic pauses, but this was excessive even for him.

“Drew, c’mon-”

And then he moved.

Instead of answering, he dropped down into a crouch, leveling himself with you, his face at eye level with yours. You immediately tensed. Fuck him. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Fucking what?” you snapped.

Drew tilted his head slightly, considering you for a moment before finally - finally - speaking. “You ready for this?”And just like that, something in your chest tightened. Because for the first time tonight, someone wasn't doubting you. He wasn't questioning whether you’ll crack, whether you’ll fold under the pressure. He wasn't treating you like some wildcard that’s bound to fall apart. No. He was just asking.

And somehow, that made….a difference for you.

Your instinct was to scoff, to roll your eyes and hit him with something sarcastic, but for some reason, you didn’t. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you…calmly. No smirk, no teasing, no hidden agenda. Just Drew, crouched in front of you like you’re the only thing in the world worth focusing on right now.

You exhaled slowly, “You think I’m not?”

Drew let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t say that.” His voice was steady, “But I also know that no matter how ready you think you are, the Rumble changes people.”

You frowned. “That supposed to be a warning?”

“More like a fact,” he said simply, resting his forearms on his knees. “You go in there with a plan, thinking you’ve got it all mapped out, and then-” he snapped his fingers,“-chaos hits. People you trust? Gone in an instant. People you never expected? Suddenly your biggest problem. It’s a different kind of fight. You don’t just have to be good, you have to be smarter than the twenty-nine other people trying to rip your head off.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze sharpened, the subtle way his voice drops, as if he was speaking from experience. Of course he was. Drew’s been in that ring before, he’s felt that pressure, survived it.

And you'll get to watch him in there that night too.

You shifted in your seat, eyes narrowing slightly. “So what? You come here to give me a motivational speech? Because if that’s the case, you can go ahead and just-”

“I came here to remind you that…whatever happens, you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

There it was. The pitch. Again. You knew it was coming, and yet, something about the way he said it now makes it oddly inviting.

Drew watched your reaction, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Relax, I’m not asking you to be my tag partner and braid each other’s hair. I’m just saying….when you’re in that ring, when the numbers start to stack against you, remember that not everyone in there wants to see you fail.”

That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did.

You shifted your gaze away, inhaling deeply through your nose. You didn’t do partnerships. You didn’t rely on people. And yet…You glanced back at him. He was watching you, unreadable as ever, but there was something to his expression, something you weren't sure what to do with.

So you did what you did best. You deflected. “You getting soft on me, McIntyre?”

Drew snorted, standing back up to his full, ridiculously tall height. “Not a chance,” he said, looking down at you. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Just….don’t be stupid in there.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting there, stuck in your mind. That was….new. A little too genuine, a little too caring coming from Drew. You weren’t sure what to make of it. You clenched your head. Whatever that was, it couldn’t ( wouldn’t ) be a distraction. Not tonight. You had a Rumble to win.

. . .

The roar of the crowd yanks you back to reality, shaking you out of the daze of embarrassment . The match is still going, the ring still packed with women clawing for their shot at glory. And you? You’re sitting on the cold, unforgiving floor outside the ring, pathetically perched against the apron like some kind of afterthought. And now, the questions start creeping in. How the hell do you come back from this? Maybe you should’ve played nicer, built bridges instead of burning them. Maybe if you’d actually given a damn about those forced tag teams, you wouldn’t have been easy pickings, ganged up on. Maybe, just maybe, you were never meant for this level of the game. Because right now, you feel like a joke.

You bite down on your lip, then wince at the sharp sting. You touch it and when you pull your fingers away, there’s blood. Great. Perfect. Like you needed another reminder of how thoroughly you got your ass handed to you.

With a sharp exhale, you slam your fist against the floor and tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling as tears well up in your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. This business is ruthless. Not everyone is going to make it, not everyone is going to be liked, and success isn’t guaranteed. But knowing that doesn’t make this sting any less. The noise of the match continues, bodies slamming, the crowd gasping, the referee shouting. You should still be in there. Then the crowd erupts, the volume suddenly loud as ever. Another elimination, maybe? Some huge moment you’re missing?

You lower your gaze, and - oh. Your stomach drops. Because striding down the aisle, eyes locked onto you, is Drew McIntyre.

You clench the edge of the apron, forcing yourself to stand despite the ache in your limbs. But the second you put weight on them, pain shoots through your body, and you sink right back down. “Get the fuck out of here." The words come out sharper than intended, but you don’t care. You glare up at him. Drew. He just stands there. Watching. Unmoving. "Are you kidding me?" you snap, "Go."

Drew blinks. Doesn't move.

Your patience, already thin, snaps again. "Go, Drew!"

Nothing. No irritation, no amusement, no snide remark. Just…..silence. And then - he moves.

You stiffen as he crouches down, his massive frame suddenly close, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. His expression is unreadable, which is somehow worse than if he were gloating. Then, without a word, he reaches out. You flinch instinctively, your body tensing, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his rough thumb drags over your split lip, smearing away the blood.

Your breath hitches. The touch is gentle. Too gentle. Especially for someone like Drew. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you stare at him, your mind scrambling for something, anything, to say. But he just watches you, as if waiting.

For what? you don’t know. And that? That excites you again. Just like it did when this whole game started. Although, it didn't feel like a game anymore.

Your eyes flutter as his hand shifts, trailing from your lip to the side of your face. His palm is warm, like it belongs to someone who’s always been there, always should be there. And somehow, against every stubborn instinct in your body, you find yourself leaning into it. A shaky sigh slips past your lips before you can stop it. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should be pushing him away, snapping something sharp and cutting, reminding him that you don’t need comfort, that you don’t want it. But instead, you just… sink into the moment. Like this is natural. Like this is allowed. And, God help you, it feels that way.

“Drew,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Before you can second-guess it. His thumb stills against your cheek, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s waiting. He knows. “Please?”

And that single word? It’s not just a plea. It’s a confirmation. A surrender of acceptance. Of him. Of this. Of whatever the hell has been building between you both, thick in the air, woven into every lingering glance, every sharp exchange, every time he’s looked at you like he’s just waiting for you to see it. And now you do.

And God, the relief of it, of finally stopping, of finally letting yourself go, hits harder than a punch to the gut. You exhale shakily, your body relaxing just slightly against his touch, and Drew’s fingers curl just the tiniest bit against your skin, like he’s grounding himself in this moment too. For the first time, you don’t treat it like a game, don’t pretend you’re still running. Because you’re not.

You can’t.

[kasuyoko]

🎵 like a surgeon // weird al

[scoupsakakitty]

Chapter 2: Cracks in the Foundation

Y/n knew something was wrong when Se-Hun didn’t reply the next day or the day after that. She stared at her phone in the back of the van as they drove to another schedule, her heart heavy. The distance between them felt bigger than ever, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe they weren’t the same as they used to be.

“Hey, stop overthinking,” Dino said from beside her, nudging her gently. He always seemed to notice when she was in her head too much.

She forced a small smile. “I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he said, smirking. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Let her overthink,” Mingyu teased from the front seat, turning around to face them. “She’s probably planning how to outshine all of us at the next performance.”

The teasing brought a small laugh out of her, but it didn’t ease the weight in her chest.————————————————————————————-The rest of the day passed in a blur of rehearsals and photoshoots. Y/n pushed herself to stay focused, ignoring the ache in her heart. But during one of their breaks, she found herself scrolling through old messages with Se-Hun.

There were so many moments when he used to check on her, ask her about her day, or send her small notes of encouragement before a big performance. But now… those messages felt like a distant memory.

“Everything okay?” a voice asked.

Startled, she looked up to see Scoups standing a few feet away, holding a water bottle. His tone was calm, but his eyes held the same careful concern she’d seen the night before.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, locking her phone and stuffing it into her pocket. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he held out the water bottle. “You’ve been working hard. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

She hesitated before taking it, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks.”

As he walked away, she felt a strange sense of comfort. Scoups didn’t say much, but his presence always felt steady like an anchor in the chaos of their lives.————————————————————————————-That evening, as they returned to the dorms, y/n was greeted by the sight of the other members sprawled across the living room. Someone had already ordered food, and the smell of fried chicken filled the air.

“Y/n, come eat!” Hoshi called, waving a drumstick in the air.

She smiled and joined them, sitting between Dino and Mingyu again. The conversation was loud and chaotic, as always, but it felt good. For a moment, she could forget about everything else.

Until her phone buzzed.

Her stomach tightened as she picked it up, only to see another short message from Se-Hun:

Sorry, can’t talk this week. Hope everything’s okay on your end.

She stared at the screen, her appetite disappearing.

“Bad news?” Dino asked, leaning over to peek at her phone.

She quickly locked it. “No, just… something personal.”

He frowned but didn’t say more, respecting her space.————————————————————————————-Later that night, y/n found herself alone in the practice room again. She couldn’t sleep, and dancing was the only thing that ever seemed to clear her mind.

She put on a slow track, something softer than their usual upbeat routines, and let herself move freely. Her steps weren’t polished or perfect, but they felt real an expression of everything she couldn’t put into words.

Halfway through the song, she heard the door open behind her. Startled, she turned to see Scoups standing there, his arms crossed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head, a little embarrassed to be caught. “I just needed to clear my head.”

He nodded, stepping further into the room. “Mind if I join?”

Y/n blinked, surprised. “You dance when you can’t sleep?”

He laughed softly. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not as bad as you think.”

They spent the next hour moving to the music, not talking much but sharing the space. Scoups wasn’t the best dancer, but there was something calming about his presence. For the first time in days, y/n felt herself relax.

As the music faded, they both sat down on the floor, catching their breath.

“You’re carrying a lot right now,” he said quietly.

Y/n froze. She didn’t know how to respond to that didn’t even know how he always seemed to see through her so easily.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said finally, though her voice lacked confidence.

Scoups didn’t push. He just gave her that small, reassuring smile that made her chest feel a little less heavy.

“Just remember,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand, “you don’t have to handle everything alone.”

She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. For a moment, she held onto it longer than she needed to, finding comfort in his steady grip.

“Thanks,” she said softly.————————————————————————————-The morning routine in the Seventeen dorms was as chaotic as ever. Members stumbled out of their rooms, hair sticking out in every direction, while Mingyu tried to cook breakfast and half-burned the toast. Y/n sat at the dining table, staring at her untouched bowl of cereal.

“Yah, Mingyu, stop burning everything!” Jeonghan groaned, waving a towel at the smoky kitchen.

“I’m not burning it—it’s just… toasted extra,” Mingyu argued, pulling out a piece of bread that was more charcoal than food.

The chaos brought a small smile to y/n’s face, but it quickly faded when her phone buzzed again. Her heart leapt for a moment, but when she saw the notification, it wasn’t Se-Hun. Just a reminder of the group’s schedule for the day.

“Y/n, you okay?” Dino asked, plopping down next to her with a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately,” he said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not sick or something?”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted.

Before Dino could question her further, Scoups walked into the room, looking surprisingly alert for someone who barely slept. His gaze flickered to y/n for a brief moment, and she swore she saw a hint of concern in his eyes before he looked away.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he announced to the room. “Don’t be late.”————————————————————————————-The day’s schedule was packed. Dance rehearsals in the morning, followed by vocal training, then a fitting session for their upcoming concert in Japan. Y/n barely had time to think, which was a blessing.

But during lunch, the group gathered in the company’s lounge, and the conversation turned to relationships.

“So, y/n,” Hoshi said, grinning as he leaned over the table, “how’s your boyfriend doing? What’s his name again… Se-Hun?”

Y/n froze, her chopsticks hovering in midair. “He’s… fine,” she said quickly, trying to sound casual.

“Are you sure? You don’t talk about him much anymore,” Vernon said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s because she’s busy, duh,” Dino cut in, throwing a protective arm around her shoulders. “She’s got us to take care of, right, y/n?”

She laughed awkwardly, grateful for the save, but Scoups’ quiet gaze lingered on her from across the table. She avoided his eyes, focusing on her food instead.————————————————————————————-Later that evening, after they returned to the dorms, y/n found herself in her room, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation at lunch in her mind. Were the others noticing the cracks in her relationship with Se-Hun? Did they think something was wrong?

Her phone buzzed, and for the hundredth time that day, she grabbed it, hoping it was him.

It wasn’t.

Instead, it was a photo notification. She opened it, and her breath caught. It was an image of Se-Hun… with another girl. They were sitting in a café, leaning close to each other, laughing.

Her heart pounded as she stared at the photo. She recognized the girl he’d mentioned her once before, said she was a study partner. But this? This looked like more than studying.

She sat up quickly, her pulse racing. Without thinking, she pressed his number and hit “call.”

The phone rang twice before he picked up. His voice sounded distracted. “What’s wrong, y/n? I’m in the middle of studying.”

Her grip tightened around her phone. “I got a picture of you with some girl. Who is she?”

There was a pause on his end. “What picture? What are you talking about?”

“You’re at a café with her,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “She’s leaning in like—like you’re on a date or something. What is this, Se-Hun?”

He sighed audibly. “That’s So-Yeon. She’s my study partner. We’ve been preparing for exams together. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” y/n repeated, her tone sharp. “Do you even realize how this looks? People are sending me pictures, asking questions—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted firmly, “she’s just a friend. You need to calm down. I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Calm down?” she snapped, her voice louder now. “How am I supposed to feel calm when I barely hear from you, and then I see this?”

His tone softened slightly, though it still held frustration. “Listen, I know it’s been hard. But you’ve got to trust me. I’m with you—not her, not anyone else.”

The words should’ve reassured her, but something about the way he said them felt distant, hollow. Still, she bit back her next argument. “Fine. Go back to your studying.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said before hanging up.

She stared at her phone, feeling the anger fade into exhaustion.

The knock on her door startled her. “It’s open,” she called out, quickly locking her phone and shoving it under her pillow.

Scoups walked in, his expression calm but curious. “You missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” she said quietly.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there for a moment before sitting on the edge of her bed.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” he said. It wasn’t a question it was a fact.

“I’m fine,” she lied, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t shut yourself out. We’re a team. We’re here for you.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She felt a lump rise in her throat and quickly looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Thanks,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Scoups nodded, standing up. “Get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

As he left, y/n let out a shaky breath. His presence had a strange way of grounding her, even when her world felt like it was falling apart.————————————————————————————-The next day, the group was back in the practice room, running through their choreography for the Japan concert. Y/n was struggling to stay focused. Her mind kept drifting back to the photo, to Se-Hun, to the girl.

“Y/n, focus!” Hoshi called, clapping his hands.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head and forcing herself back into the routine.

But it happened again and again. Her timing was off, her moves sloppy. By the third mistake, Scoups called for a break.

“Y/n, can I talk to you?” he said, motioning for her to step aside.

The others gave her sympathetic looks as she followed him to the corner of the room.

“What’s going on?” Scoups asked, his tone firm but not unkind.

“I’m just tired,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” he said. “This isn’t like you. If something’s wrong, you need to tell me.”

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, biting her lip. “It’s… personal.”

Scoups sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. But you can’t let it affect your performance. The team’s counting on you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

As he walked away, y/n felt a pang of guilt. She hated letting the team down, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth not yet.————————————————————————————-That evening, she stood on the dorm’s balcony, staring out at the city lights. The photo of Se-Hun and the girl was burned into her mind. She wanted answers, but more than that, she wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Take a minute to pull yourself together. Then let’s try again.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was a message from Se-Hun.

We need to talk.

Her heart sank.

Reminder ~ If you have to fight for love, it’s not real love. Remember to love yourself first.

[ghostlylulla-by]

Let's go, Agent 4!

Wait... Is that...? CALLIE?

I told you to leave...

Callie... Why?

Now you leave me no choice... Prepare to be rocked!

Hey, DJ!

[murdleandmarot]

The dichotomy of listening to moments of happiness really is just “Oh, I want to live forever” directly followed by “I am going to fucking kill myself.”