#read a band au so good i had to pull out my own and then get distracted by revamping the game i made up for it

[neptunesenceladus]

sister asking why i’m smiling at my computer screen when really i’m making up a fps game based off dc

[keeryhours]

Customer: @mrsjellymunson

Order: Chocolate lava cake for two with chocolate fudge and crushed oreos

Ingredients: Smut (18+), rockstar au, one bed trope (more like no beds one van trope), protected and unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving and a second of m receiving), fingering, creampie

Total: $35.20 (3.5k words oops)

Place an order!

Masterlist Tag Lists

The vibe in the van was one of pure exhaustion as it rumbled up to the shitty Colorado motel. You had just played a show hours before, and everyone was sweaty and gross and ready to pass out after a good shower. 

This was Corroded Coffin’s first tour, mostly financed by the band themselves. The shows were great, the crowd was energetic and excited to be there every night. But the run down motels and long hours in the van were getting tiresome.

“Okay,” Eddie said. “Everyone’s got their own room. So we can all get a shower and pass the fuck out.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gareth said, yawning as he opened his car door.

Everyone climbed out, stretching sore muscles. Eddie walked into the lobby, leaving everyone else at the van. He approached the receptionist, a teenage boy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He looked up as Eddie approached, his expression bored.

“Hey,” Eddie greeted. “Uh, we have 5 reservations? Should be under Munson.”

The guy typed on the massive computer. “Edward?”

“Uh…yeah,” Eddie said.

“It looks like you only have two rooms booked.”

Eddie blinked. “I booked five rooms.”

“Well, here, it says you have two.”

Eddie’s head dropped in exasperation. “Well can I get three more rooms?”

The boy gave him a fake pitying look. “Sorry, we’re all booked up.”

Eddie clenched his fists. “Awesome.”

“Do you still want the two rooms?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, pulling out his wallet. He paid the guy in cash for the rooms. He handed him two keys. “Enjoy your stay, sir.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he turned around. He met back up with the rest of you at the van, where everyone was dead on their feet, ready to get into their rooms.

“So, bad news,” Eddie said as he walked up, swinging the keys around his fingers.

“What?” Grant asked, already dreading whatever their frontman was about to say.

“We’ve only got two rooms.”

“What?” you said. “You were supposed to book five.”

“I did,” Eddie said, “but apparently something got messed up. We have two rooms and they’re all booked otherwise.”

You and the guys all looked at each other. “So…” Jeff said, “…who gets the rooms?”

“I’ll sleep in the van,” Eddie offered. “Just let me get a shower first in one of the rooms.”

“By yourself?” you asked. “I’ll sleep out here with you.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not gonna be very comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I’ll bunk with you.”

“Works for me,” Gareth said. “I call my own room. Jeff and Grant can share.”

While the three guys argued over who got the room to themselves, you and Eddie snuck into the hotel rooms to take the first showers. It felt like heaven after a long day of performing and feeling so gross. The hot water washed away not only the sweat and dirt but also the stress of the day, the anxiety of tomorrow’s performance.

When you were done, you dried yourself off, dressing in your pajamas - shorts and a t-shirt. You brushed your teeth and walked out of the bathroom, seeing Grant on the bed.

“I won,” he smiles.

“Congratulations,” you laughed. You left Grant alone to take his own shower and headed back out to the van - your accommodation for the night. You found Eddie already in the vehicle, having laid the back seats down and made a large space for you two to sleep.

He was dressed in nothing but some low hanging sweatpants, leaning back against the seat with his lyric notebook. You climbed in next to him. “Whatcha working on?”

Eddie glanced up at you. “Ah, just some songs I’ve been messing around with. Nothing concrete yet.”

“Can I see?”

Eddie paused. “Yeah, I guess.”

You took the notebook from his hands and began flipping the pages, reading the notes and lyrics and chords he’d written down. There was one thing that stood out to you about these lyrics - they were all love songs. Corroded Coffin didn’t do love songs. None of you had much experience to write about, after all. But these lyrics were all longing, yearning, pining. Desire.

It wasn’t what you expected from Eddie. Eddie wasn’t soft, he was rowdy, wild, the life of the party. He wasn’t tender, like these lyrics. These lyrics were beautiful, they were poetry. But they were also dark, longing without the belief you can ever have what you truly want.

“Eddie…” you said, lowering the notebook. “These are…”

“They’re stupid,” he said quickly, taking the notebook back from your hands. He shoved it under the seat. “They’re not done or anything. Just some stuff I was messing around with.”

“Eddie, they’re beautiful,” you said. “I didn’t know you wrote songs like that.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “I don’t.”

He seemed like he was being a little hostile, so you backed off. You reached into your bag and pulled out your body lotion, pumping some into your hands and then rubbing it into your legs, part of your usual post shower routine.

Eddie watched. His eyes were glued to your long, smooth legs, the way your hands caressed them, and he thought about those being his hands. How badly he’d love to rub your body like that, feeling every inch of your skin beneath his palms, calloused from years of guitar playing. 

He made himself look away.

Once you were done, Eddie closed up the van, settling down into the makeshift bed in the back. You laid down next to him, with a respectable distance between you. You stared up, looking at the sky through the windows, the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. It was almost romantic.

You figured Eddie had fallen asleep next to you, but he shifted, and when you looked his big brown eyes were looking right at you. Your heart stuttered in your chest - maybe he startled you, what other reason would there be? But he was looking at you so intensely, it made it hard to breathe.

“Eddie?” you said his name like a question.

He just looked at you. “I…”

The starlight shining on your face through the van windows made you look ethereal. Eddie had loved you since the moment he met you, he thought you were the most beautiful person on the planet, but he had never seen you looking so soft, so otherworldly.

“Every love song is about you,” he whispered.

You froze. “What?” you whispered back.

“Those songs I wrote,” he said softly. “They’re all about you.”

Your brain couldn’t process this. Eddie? Into you? In love with you? Those songs hadn’t been light. They had been pure need. You had been best friends with Eddie for forever and never had you gotten the vibe that he was interested in you.

Eddie took your lack of response as a rejection. He looked up at the ceiling of the van, his heart sinking in his chest. He felt like an idiot. He had kept this inside for so long, and here he went and ruined everything, and while you’re on tour together, too. How could he be so stupid-

“I love you too, Eddie.”

His heart stuttered. He wasn’t sure he heard you right. “You-?”

“I feel the same way,” you whispered. “I have for a long time.”

Eddie turned on his side. He placed his hand on your cheek, thumb gently caressing the skin. It was silent for a few minutes. Just the two of you looking into each other’s eyes, finding so much said without words.

“I don’t think you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” Eddie said gently.

Your lips parted. You weren’t sure what to say. You’d never had someone say something like that to you before. Your heart was thudding hard in your chest, your stomach buzzing with nerves.

“Whenever I watch you on stage,” he continued, “I can’t look anywhere else. I’m supposed to be working the crowd, but I’m watching you. You’re always…you’re everything.”

You were misty eyed, at a loss for words. You had to have been dreaming, because what was this? A literal dream come true?

“Eddie…” you said, your voice still slightly hoarse from the show. “I…are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice an octave lower. Then, as if to prove how serious he was, he moved in slowly and kissed you.

You had thought many times about what Eddie’s lips might feel like. You had certainly fantasized about his mouth in multiple places, his long, skilled tongue-

Eddie’s lips moved against yours in a slow kiss. His hand brushed through your hair slowly. Yours rested on his bare chest, feeling the skin beneath your palm moving with his heavy breaths. He let out the quietest moan as he kissed you, a barely there breath of a moan, all his longing put into that kiss.

He nibbled on your bottom lip just slightly, testing the waters. You opened up for him, and the feeling of his tongue just slightly touching yours brought you heavily to the present. This was really happening. You met him eagerly, tongues slowly pressing together, exploring intimately.

You let out an involuntary moan, his kisses bringing your body to life. Your nipples hardened in your thin t-shirt, wetness collecting on your panties. You wanted to know what else he could do, maybe with those long dexterous fingers -

As if he read your mind begging for more, his fingers crept under your shirt, slowly enough that you could easily stop him if you wanted to. You absolutely didn’t. His hand slid up your side, sending goosebumps across your skin. You shuddered, squeezing your thighs together. Eddie didn’t miss it, and you felt his smile against your lips.

“Naughty,” he mumbled. You wanted to tell him to shut up like you usually would, but you found you didn’t want him to. You wanted his mouth to keep doing all kinds of things.

His hand crept up slowly until it reached your breasts. He cupped one of them gently, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple. You gasped, and Eddie nipped playfully at your bottom lip again.

“You have the perfect tits,” Eddie said. “I’ve known that for a long time, but now I know for sure.”

He pushed your shirt up, exposing your tits. He separated from your lips and sat up, pulling you onto his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist. He dipped his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple. You drew in a shaking breath, your hands grasping onto his back.

He moaned as he sucked on your nipple, running his tongue over it, suckling at it like it’s the best thing he’d ever had. His hand played with your other breast, massaging it and pinching at your sensitive bud.

Eddie was in heaven. Your tits in his face, in his mouth. He had dreamed of this alone in his hotel room with his cock in his hand more times than he could count. His fingers dug into your soft hips, and you experimentally rolled your hips down against his. It drew a moan from deep in his chest, and you could feel him hardening against your core through both of your clothes.

“God, you’re fuckin’ unreal,” Eddie groaned against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re in my fuckin’ lap.” He went right back to your tits, enveloping the other with his mouth this time.

“Yeah?” you said. “Well I can’t believe I’m making out with the Eddie Munson.”

He pulled off your tits with a wet pop. “The Eddie Munson is about to be doing a lot more than making out with you.” He grinned at you sheepishly. “If you’ll let him.”

You answered him with another kiss, tongues tangling together. He guided your hips down against him, back and forth, rolling low against his rapidly hardening cock. Every drag of his hard length against your dripping core was making your clit throb, your pussy clenching around nothing as you imagined having him deep inside you.

He pulled your shirt off before he flipped you over, laying you softly down on the blankets. You couldn’t help your eyes drifting down, noticing his massive dick pressing against his grey sweatpants. It made you a little nervous. You weren’t a virgin, but you weren’t the most experienced, either.

Eddie squeezed his cock over his pants, you could see the print of his dick through the material. His thick mushroom tip was obvious, cock bobbing in his pants as he moved. He kissed down your body until he reached your tiny little shorts, sliding them down along with your panties at an agonizing pace.

Once they were off he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove in. His tongue traced along your glistening folds, tasting you - finally. He moaned against you, sending vibrations through your clit. “Tastes so sweet, baby.”

You whimpered, tangling your fingers in his curly hair. “Oh, Eddie.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he cooed, tongue flicking over your clit. A loud gasp escaped your chest as he pressed a long finger into you, pumping it slowly.

“It’s- ohmygod-“

Eddie chuckled, never stopping his movements. He sucked on your clit hard before going back to lapping up your wetness with his tongue. He was eating you like a starved man, like he was loving every second of it. He pressed another finger into your hole, stretching you further.

“Gotta get you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. “Think you can take another?”

You whined. “Yeah.”

“My good girl.” He pressed a third into you, the stretch uncomfortable at first. But he was pumping them so slowly, curling them deeply inside of you to press against something that had you breathing harder, squeezing your eyes shut, tiny moans coming from your lips over and over.

“Eddie, that feels so good,” you whined. “So so good. Please…”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart,” he said, reading your mind. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna make you cum on my tongue.”

You were close. You’d never had a guy make you cum before, only your own toys had brought you there. The guys you’d slept with had no interest in your pleasure. Eddie was different.

“Eddie…Eddie…” you cried out, body writhing in pleasure. “G’na cum…”

“I can feel it, baby. Can feel you tightening around my fingers, squeezin’ me, pullin’ me deeper. She’s greedy, isn’t she?”

He wrapped those lips around your clit again and sucked, fingers pressing right against that spot, and oh god oh god oh god-

“Eddie! Oh, fuck, Eddie!” you cried out, grinding your pussy against his face, taking everything he’d give you as you had the biggest orgasm of your life. Eddie went even harder, devouring you with his sinful tongue. He moaned against you as he drank you in, tasting every bit of your slick, rutting his hips against the blankets.

He kept going until you couldn’t take it anymore, whimpering as you pushed him away. He looked up at you from between your legs with your wetness coating his lips and chin. He grinned.

“Gotta have you,” he growled. He shoved his sweatpants down, cock bobbing against his stomach. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, even bigger than it looked covered by his pants.

He reached into the front seats, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a condom. Of course, they were always readily available on the road. You were grateful for it now.

He bit the package open. His tip was flushed red, the tiniest bead of precum at his slit. In an impulsive moment, you sat up and licked it off.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, surprised. “Fuck, baby. If I didn’t want to fuck you so bad right now, I’d tell you to do it again.”

You giggled - but you were admittedly intimidated by the thought of taking all that down your throat. Another day.

You watched as Eddie rolled the condom onto his dick, clenching your thighs together. You felt the excitement building between your legs all over again, as if you hadn’t just cum all over his face.

Eddie positioned himself between your legs. He lifted your thighs, spreading them wide, gazing down at the view. “Christ,” he muttered. “Look at you.”

You blushed, but Eddie didn’t notice. His attention was elsewhere. He tapped his cock against your pussy, rubbing it between your folds, just feeling it all over his shaft, coating the condom with your slick. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard in his life.

He lined himself up with your entrance. He was thick, and that was the first moment you actually felt a little scared.

Eddie sensed the change in you as if you’d said it out loud. “I’ll be gentle,” he said, kissing you softly on the lips. “If you don’t like it, just let me know, yeah?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He kissed your cheek, then your lips again. He kissed you gently as he slowly pushed into you, and you keened, feeling him stretch you the way only he could.

“Oh, god, baby,” Eddie bit off a choked groan as he felt you envelop him, every inch he pressed into you lighting up every nerve ending in his body. He shook with his attempt to keep himself under control, to not pound into you like a fucking animal the way he wanted to.

He bottomed out inside of you, and you finally felt like you could breathe. You let out a shaky exhale, your nails digging into his back like you were holding on for dear life. “S’big.”

Eddie chuckled breathlessly. “I know, baby. You’re taking it so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He pulled out a little before rolling his hips back into you, watching your face to make sure you were alright. He pulled out a little more with every thrust, each one getting deeper and deeper. You could feel him in your fucking stomach it felt like.

Once he felt like he could set a steady pace, he was thrusting his hips into you in a firm rhythm, the van rocking with your movements. You moaned and dragged your nails down Eddie’s back, making him hiss. “Damn, baby. You gonna mark me all up?”

“Maybe,” you breathed. “Can I?”

“Do whatever you want to me,” he said, low. “But I get to mark you, too.”

He buried his face in your neck as he sped up his hips, biting and sucking at your neck like he was determined to let everyone in the world know he’d fucked you. He thought about you on stage with your neck bruised and marked, all the fans seeing, wondering who gave them to you, jealous.

“You’re mine,” Eddie growled into your neck. “Mine. All fucking mine.”

“All yours,” you agreed, your brain hazy as he fucked you stupid. “Yours, yours, yours.”

Eddie threw his head back, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing. He was holding back, not wanting to cum too fast. “Your pussy is too fuckin’ good. Gonna make me bust too quick.”

“You can,” you said. “I wanna make you cum.”

“Wanna cum in you,” he grunted. “God, I wish I could fill you.”

“Can you?” you said quickly.

Eddie paused. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you said, repeating his words from earlier. “I’m on birth control.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Eddie pulled out of you, quickly pulling the condom off and tossing it. He slapped his cock against your pussy one more time and then he buried himself back into you in a single thrust. You cried out, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He was fucking you like a madman now, hips pounding into you relentlessly. The slapping of your skin was so loud it made you blush. You held onto Eddie, your lifeline, your constant.

“Gonna cum deep,” he grunted. “It’s gonna be dripping out of your little pussy for days. You’ll be on stage, feeling me, remembering all I did to you.”

You whimpered - it was all you could do. Eddie thrusted into you at a punishing pace a few more times, then he stilled, grounding out a deep moan as his cock twitched inside of you, rope after rope of his spend coating the inside of your pussy, filling you just like he promised.

It took him a while to come down. You were both shaking, clutching onto each other. Eddie was peppering your skin in kisses all over, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” you mumbled back sleepily. Eddie pulled out, and you felt his release dripping out of you. He smirked, wiping it with his finger and pushing it back inside.

He collapsed on the floor next to you, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing back to normal. He rubbed your bare back soothingly.

And you were happy.

tag list

@missjadesfics @swiftieintheupsidedown @fandom-princess-forevermore @ali-r3n @playboysweetie @losingmygrasponreality @samslvrgirl @ratsematary @cheesesandwichsanto @rainybloo28 @angxlg0dz @mopeymopeymouse @strangerthing93 @bellalillyrose @awkward00noodle @hannahmassey30 @xplrnowornever @thestrals-and-firewiskey @badasspizzalover @parodsal000 @charmed-asylum @kyber4crystal @jeangeniex @fearlessreid

[azrielbrainrot]

After The Show

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Thigh Riding

Description: Azriel invites you to another of his concerts and you can't stop thinking about how hot he is the whole time.

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, semi public sex, car sex

Word Count: 1,2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story is simultaneously part of my band au and one of the stories I wrote for kinktober. This is just smut though so you don't really need to know about their lore before reading this or anything. Also I proofread this on the subway so I hope it's fine. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Azriel has always brought out the most intense feelings out of you, this much wasn't new. You've also seen him perform a million times before, even when you weren't officially dating yet, and while you had always thought he looked incredibly mesmerizing up on that stage, you had never had such a visceral reaction to it.

As you watched him play his bass and sing along with the music on stage tonight, you couldn't focus on anything other than unfairly attractive he was, eyes darting from his beautiful face to the way his shirt tightened around his biceps and expert fingers played the bass, plucking every string with ease. You barely even managed to pay attention to the music during the whole show even though he played one of your favorite songs.

So when he came down to give you a kiss after finishing his set to find you unbearably turned on, it came as a bit of a surprise for the both of you. You had been so needy that he couldn't resist putting away his stuff quickly, almost ignoring his friends and letting you drag him to the backseat of his car.

This wasn't a good idea, seeing as the bar was still open and your friends were still inside, but you were certain that if he didn't touch you right then and there you would explode. Azriel had tried to protest, wanting to drive you home so he could fuck you properly, but you shut him down with needy pleas and passionate kisses. And that's how you ended up straddling him and grinding down on his muscular thigh like your life depended on it.

The angle was awkward and there was barely enough space for you to sit on him let alone move properly. The short dress you wore had been hastily pulled up to your waist, his strong hands holding it in place so he could see the movement of your hips, the black panties you picked out drenched and on display for him, but you didn't care at all. Your only concern in that moment was the feeling of your soaked and sensitive cunt grinding against the rough material of his jeans, giving you just enough friction while he trailed wet kisses over your neck and shoulders, making you lose your mind even further.

The windows were fogging up with the temperature rising in the car, your harsh breaths and barely muffled moans filling up the space. It would be obvious what you were up to in there for anyone that passed by, good thing it was still early and the act playing after Azriel was good enough to keep everyone entertained.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his own desire evident in his tone, sitting back, sadly abandoning your neck, focusing on your body, mesmerized by the way your hips ground down on his thigh, so wet even though he had barely touched you. “You're making a mess, princess.”

A mess was an understatement, the fabric of his jeans was absolutely drenched under you. If you weren't seeing it too, you might have tried to deny it.

“This is your fault,” you manage to get out, the tone not as accusatory as you meant for it to be between your shaky breaths, your movements never faltering even though you were in such an uncomfortable position and your muscles were starting to burn.

“My fault?” He chuckles, hands grabbing onto your asscheeks, the rings he wore cool against your overheated skin. “I didn't even do anything.”

“You don't have to.”

“Yeah?” He starts guiding your movements, making you grind down into him even harder. “Love me that much?”

Nodding feverishly, you lean down to kiss him, knowing words aren't enough to tell him how much you truly love him, and you definitely couldn't find them in this moment, not when even breathing was proving too difficult and your thoughts were so scattered.

It's a messy kiss, teeth clanging together as you grab onto his hair, desperately needing more. One of his hands abandons your ass, trailing over your skin teasingly, too slowly for the current situation, until he finds your panties, pushing them to the side with his thumb so your cunt was grinding directly into the rough material of his jeans, the new sensation sending you to new heights.

Azriel resumes his earlier assault on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and sucking on the skin, probably hard enough that you'd have to cover up a few marks tomorrow - you couldn't even complain about the jovial nature of him leaving hickeys on your neck when you had been the one to drag him to the back of his car like a horny teenager. Wrapping a hand around your neck softly, he tilts your head to the side, kissing a trail up to your ear.

“You need to cum so I can drive you home and fuck you properly, princess.” He sounded a bit feverish himself. If you were a bit more lucid you would have noticed the way his cock was straining against his pants and the way his body seemed to tremble along with yours.

“I'll let you ride me just like this,” he whispers right against your ear, guiding your hips harder, showing exactly what he wanted. Gods, just the thought of his cock stretching you out makes you clench around nothing, a needy moan escaping you.

With how wound up you had been ever since he stepped on stage it's no surprise that your orgasm hits you so fast, it's actually stranger that you had managed to hold out for so long. It hits you like a wave, pulling you under until you can't breathe. You lean down and hide your face in his neck, a silent scream escaping you as you try your best not to make too much noise and alert the whole bar about the mind numbing orgasm your boyfriend just pulled from you in the backseat of his car.

Azriel keeps guiding your hips slowly, dragging it out until your body is shaking too much. He lets you wrap your arms around him and catch your breath as you come down, massaging your thighs softly. It takes you a while to come back down to earth, but when you do the first thing you notice isn't even how bad your muscles are burning after the intense workout, it's the soaked fabric under you and the wetness around your thighs.

“Still with me?”

His voice pushes you out of your thoughts, leaning back to find him watching you, his fingers coming up to push your hair behind your ear, the adoration in his hazel eyes sending a different kind of butterflies flying through your stomach.

“Yeah,” you say at last, kissing him softly before adding, “Still need you.”

The promise he made earlier hadn't been forgotten even in the midst of your jumbled thoughts, and as much as the intense orgasm had taken most of the edge off, you still wanted him to fuck you.

He hums, a teasing smile trying to fight its way onto his lips. “Think you can wait until we get home this time?”

You let out a soft laugh of your own, “As long as you get me there fast.”

[cheollipop]

✾ — 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

navi | taglist

pairing: husband!park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.0k

genre: smut, fluff, newlyweds on their honeymoon au

song recs: golden hour by jvke, my love mine all mine by mitski, vanilla by kai

with the caribbean breeze ruffling through silky locks, leaving its salty remnants on sunkissed skin, fingers tangled in a lifetime's embrace as you adjusted to the added weight of the metal bands reflecting the gleaming moonlight. tonight, and for decades to come, seonghwa thanked every deity he knew the name of for making you his.

warnings: food/eating is prevalent in the first few paragraphs, lovemaking, soft/service dom!seonghwa, possessive!hwa fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nicknames (hwa; pretty girl, darling, love, baby, 'wife'), a lot of kisses, like fr a lot, they're both very desperate and needy and impatient and in love, it's so sappy I'm disgusted with myself.

A/N: bai @hwaightme, thank you for ideating with me all those months ago. I'm happy I finally found the time to write it out, and I really hope I was able to do hwasband (heh) justice. happy reading <3

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

A day of mingling with locals, hopping between souvenir shops and family-owned restaurants, the taste of salt in the air with the ocean breeze ruffling through your hair, hand in hand as you moved under the midday sun. Vivid splashes of colour decorated the markets, clothes and fruit—a ripe mango sitting, half-eaten, on Seonghwa’s palm—laid out on wooden booths while merchants called out to the tourists passing through the narrow pathway. The once overwhelming scent of red roses emanating from the small bouquet in your hand now dissipated under the mouth-watering spices wafting from the street food stalls Seonghwa walked you past, stopping at each one to shovel a variety of fried pastries and desserts into your mouth. 

“You should try this too,” he spoke as he excitedly fed you another bite, pressing the pastry past your lips with two fingers to make space between the rest of the food you struggled to chew. 

“Hwa, wait—mmph!” 

The man standing behind the bar chuckled to himself, golden skin hugged by the Caribbean sun and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a lifetime of smiles. “You should listen to your husband, Ma'am.” 

You turned towards each other, eyes meeting amidst the bustling crowd surrounding you. Husband. It had a good ring to it. Taking in the pink dusting Seonghwa’s cheeks, the timid curl of his lips while he eyed you with hearts in his eyes, you wondered whether the heat warming your cheeks, the butterflies fluttering in your lower belly, and the overwhelming adoration you felt towards the man before you, were just as obvious. As though nothing and no one else existed, even within the populous market, Seonghwa stared at you with unrivalled infatuation, his hand raising to brush a smear of sauce off the side of your mouth, bringing it to his own for a taste. The fresh wave of heat flushing your face at his antics fuelled his ego, lips stretching further at your bashfulness. You were just too cute. 

Turning his attention back towards the merchant, his next order dying at the tip of his tongue as your free hand locked with his, dragging him out of the market with a quick “thank you” as you continued to chew on what was left of all the bites he’d clogged your throat with. 

You made Seonghwa carry your shoes while you wiped the food off your mouth, glaring at him as he giggled to himself, bare feet leaving imprints over soft, white sand. He guided you closer to the shore, until gentle waves tickled your soles, and rather than remnants of fine dust over tanned skin, you now carried bits of the beach with you every step you took. 

Seonghwa’s fingers found yours, his other hand struggling to hold two pairs of shoes while he pulled you closer to his side, his eyes fixing on yours before moving to scan the rest of your face, as though the shadows sculpting your features were far more entrancing than the scene unfolding to his left. Your face warmed under his unrelenting gaze, and despite your best efforts at redirecting his stare towards the changing sky—the plastic wrapped around red roses colliding with his jaw as you pushed it to the side, only for it to sway back in your direction—his attention remained on you. So you dragged him away from the water, damp feet collecting a sheet of sand as you walked further up on the beach, seating yourself and waiting for the smiley man to join you, pearly teeth reflecting the golden rays.  

The orb of light moved closer to the horizon, a gradient of oranges and pinks encompassing the breadth of the sky, twinkling stars peeking out as it darkened, still hidden behind tufts of cotton candy clouds moving with the gentle breeze. The salt tickled your nostrils, and the chill ruffled through your top, Seonghwa’s arm naturally wrapping around your figure to bring you closer, his warmth spreading through you despite the thin, white button-up covering his torso, swaying with the wind to reveal bits of his tanned chest through the unbuttoned lapel. Your hand rested over his thigh, and without a second thought, his own moved to cover it, looking down to examine the orange hue cast over metal, your wedding rings clanging against one another while the setting sun graced the interlocked fingers with the last of its warmth. Lifting your head back up, you took in the universe’s breathtaking show of love as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye, bidding its farewells as they parted for the night, beginning its decent into the pool of tears it’d left behind, its reflection making it appear whole.  

“Pretty,” you breathed out, watching as pinks shifted to purples, and the stars shone through disappearing clouds.  

Seonghwa hummed, the deep baritone dragging your attention off the collision and to the sincere eyes mooning over your profile. Heat flooded your cheeks once again, and with the cooling breeze, shifting the blame onto the summer’s torridity was no longer possible. Instead, you allowed the tranquillity gracing Seonghwa’s sharp features to drag you away from the bewitching sunset. Dark locks fanned over his forehead, stray strands following the salty gusts before falling back into place, eyelashes casting faint shadows over defined cheekbones, and plump lips forming into an easy smile as he took you in. 

He dragged your locked hands up his thigh, leaning closer to slot his lips against yours, leaving the universe to bear witness to his own show of love, with the golden, dying rays to serve as his backdrop. How many love songs had you heard say, ‘he takes my breath away’? Seonghwa did. In everything he did, even simply under his gentle gaze, you’d often find yourself breathless.  

Drawing back, hot air blew against your mouth, wide, glimmering eyes mooning over your dazed features, and after what felt like an eternity later, Seonghwa’s lips touched yours once again. Sparks flew in every direction, the world slowly disappearing around you, and you wondered how a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying, how it could light a million fires within you. Like dancers sashaying to a melody, your lips moved together as waves crashed against the sandy shore, and in that moment, it felt as though you were floating in space and everything around you had turned to dust. 

You leaned your body forward, attempting to deepen the kiss that had captured your entire being in a whirlwind of fervour and yearning, but just as you did, Seonghwa moved back. Features softened under the dying rays, he peered at you through his eyelashes for a few moments, taking in the subtle pout on your lips at the sudden parting before averting his gaze towards the locked fingers resting on his thigh. Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the curved slope of his nose, over the feathered eyelashes and lips you’d just gotten a taste of, sensing the gentle ministrations of his hand as it fiddled with your ring. A ring you were still accustoming to the weight of, the gemstone offering a pleasant reminder of a man you now returned home to every night. A man with a million stars in his eyes, and yet preferred to gaze upon you, to moon over your very existence as though you’d crafted the universe around him with nothing but calloused hands. With scenery as breathtaking as the one before you—a celebration of vibrant fuchsia and coral—Seonghwa’s gaze never left your profile, admiring the sunset through its reflection over your skin, the shadows it carved, the pretty eyes in which it glimmered within. And just as the sun kissed the horizon while it set, and once again as it rose, Seonghwa's lips moved in a whispered prayer: to greet the rest of his days with the caress of your warm breath against his skin, carrying the thought of you as he navigated his hours, and to find you in the gentle embrace of slumber, a steadfast companion by his side. 

Your voice dragged him out of his daydreams, “what are you thinking about?” 

Gentle eyes flitted upwards to meet yours, his response nearly instant, “only you.” The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, delicate over the twinkling stone decorating your ring finger, Seonghwa continued to ignore the world around him and solely focused on you—the gentle squeeze around his fingers every few seconds, the alluring smile gracing your lips, the slow pace in which you blinked, as though drunk on his voice, his scent, his presence. It was though he was intoxicated by you, an addict who can’t help but want more, even when you’d offered him all you could spare. Leaning towards you once again, he pressed a feathery kiss to your cheekbone, sensing the benign flutter of your eyelashes against his skin before drawing back to meet your eyes once again, hot breath mingling in the small gap between your faces as he muttered the words under his breath, “let’s go back.” 

-- 

One unsteady step at a time, Seonghwa walked you backwards into the hotel room, palm splayed out on your lower back to keep you balanced. White sand dusted off the clothes he pulled off your frame, wandering hands taking in the lingering warmth of a sun long gone. Your fingers feathered over the prominent tan lines painting his chest, faint freckles littered over the reddened skin. Flitting your eyes back to his face, you found Seonghwa’s gaze fixed on your lips. So you gave him what he yearned for, pressing them against the plush of his and inhaling the breath he’d been holding, too immersed in astral daydreams about a lifetime of you to listen to his burning lungs.  

He moved slowly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go in favour of pressing your tongues together, contrasting the frantic shuffling of his hands over every inch of skin revealed to him. You held him close, chests flush as you allowed him to take whatever he needed, only pulling away to slide off the bra he’d nimbly unclasped. Gentle fingers glided over your figure, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as though he’d never have the luxury of touching you after tonight, his kisses hungry as he robbed your lungs of the last of their oxygen. 

Soft sheets collided with your back, and you had only a few seconds to revel in the coolness against your heated skin before Seonghwa was back on you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to press hurried kisses down its length. His lips moved over the slope of your breast, tongue peeking out to circle your perked-up nipple before descending the tender skin to feather kisses along your ribs. You recognized the pattern, his movements familiar as he trailed down the body he’d stripped nearly bare, fingertips ghosting over the lacey waistband hugging your hips. Soon, he’d prop your legs over broad shoulders, salivating as he buried his nose into your clit while he lapped at your dripping arousal like a starved man.  

A sense of urgency flooded your gut as he dug his nose under your bellybutton, your hand flying to his freckled shoulder with a mutter of his name rolling off your tongue. He looked up at you, pupils blown out and a sheen of spit coating his parted lips as he prepared himself for your sweet taste, his appetite growing the closer he got to your core.  

Wrapping your fingers around his bicep, you tugged him upwards, but he resisted, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “baby?” 

“I can’t wait, Hwa, ‘want you now,” you breathed out, feeling his muscles relax under your touch and his hesitant ascend back to face-level.  

You could hear the unspoken complaint forming at the back of his throat, so you moved your hand to his nape and brought him down to slot your lips together. Desperation poured out of you, teeth clashing as you pulled him impossibly closer, drunk on the softness of his lips. You guided his hand to your clothed heat, pushing it past the waistband so soft fingers could slide through the wetness staining the white lace they’d gifted you. A muttered curse vibrated against your lips, Seonghwa’s nose nuzzling against yours for a moment before capturing your mouth in an avid embrace once again, his free hand leading yours down the lean muscle to where he needed you the most, to where his burning want strained against his briefs.  

An airy moan muffled against his frantic lips, the slight part in yours welcoming his tongue in to run over your front teeth, “fuck, ‘want you, please-” 

“Shh,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, “just for a little bit, my love.” You whimpered in protest, but he only smiled at your frustration, pressing more kisses over your eyelids, forcing them shut with the gesture. “I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darling. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” 

You knew he would. From the building pace of his fingers on your clit, drawing perfect circles and sending jolting waves of long-awaited pleasure up your spine, to the trail of kisses he planted down the side of your neck, you knew he would. Forming a ‘v’ around the bud, he slid the digits down to your folds, his middle finger circling your needy hole before slipping inside. He didn’t bother with finding your g-spot before sliding in another, his unconcealed impatience evident in the quick, shallow thrusts.  

Your gaze flitting down to his middle, you pushed past the elastic band to feel his cock twitch in your palm, squeezing around his base to take in the shifts in his expression—eyebrows drawn in, lashes fluttering as he melted under your tender touch before he rested his forehead onto your chest. He used his free hand to make a quick work of sliding off his briefs—rather ungracefully, but you held back your comments—tossing them off the bed before guiding your hand back to his waiting cock. Following the throbbing vein lining his length, you were met with the obscene amount of translucent precum spurting from his cockhead, rolling your wrist and sliding the slick down the hard shaft, then back up to feel him shudder atop of you. 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

His fingers slipped out of you with a groan, and you whined at the loss, your dripping cunt clenching uselessly. But Seonghwa was smearing your own slick over the back of your thigh while pushing it to the side, spreading you apart to slot himself between your legs. You pulled your hand away before he could trap it between your burning cores, his cock sliding deliciously between your soaked folds and nudging your clit with every slippery glide.  

You reached down, placing a palm over his cockhead to trap him against you, “Hwa, hurry,” a faint whisper, you pressed down once he sunk his hips lower, and sighed in relief once the tip breached your fluttering hole.  

The slow drag as he buried himself within your heat left you in a shared trance, eyes locked and lips parted, stunted exhales mingling in the negligible gap separating your faces. Slender fingers tangled with yours, moonlit wedding bands pressing imprints into your skin as he grinded languidly into you, eyelashes fluttering but gaze never faltering off your face, revelling in the luring shifts in your features as you gracefully drowned in the pleasure he so generously gave you. Even in the dim, bluish tone the cosy hotel room swam in, you could see the abstract hearts painting his glimmering irises, Seonghwa's warm body lowering onto yours until a comfortable amount of his weight rested atop you. Despite the tenderness of his touch, the delicate kisses he peppered your face with—barely-there pecks over your eyelids, on your cheeks and down to the corners of your mouth—Seonghwa’s hips had built a steady pace, barely pulling out as he rolled them insistently, the squelch of your cunt harmonizing with the pitched pants echoing between the four walls.  

“My wife,” he muttered suddenly, dragging you away from the hazy pleasure clouding your mind and to wide, glassy eyes peering at you as though you’d parted the sea with a mere whisper. His palm cradled your jaw, curved nose nuzzling into your cheek while his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as the realization dawned on him for the nth time since he’d slid the polished band onto your trembling finger. “Fuck, you’re my wife.” 

A soft giggle shook your shoulders, your hand sliding over Seonghwa’s at your jaw while the other drew lines onto his lower back. “Mm, my husband.” 

Seonghwa was a man blinded by sudden cognizance—first life or not, the universe had been astonishingly kind to him, granting him a lifetime of nights such as this, emanated by the raw desire to love. To give love, and to receive it, from a woman crafted by the heavens themselves, a woman who presented him with love’s true form. Who painted the world around him brighter, more vivid, until a life without her seemed riddled with dreary grey tones and melancholy.  

“All mine.” 

A fond smile stretched your lips, brushing your fingers through silky, dark locks while admiring his dazed features, “all yours.” 

His body heat encapsulated your form, toned arms wrapped securely around your shoulders and face tucked into your neck as measured rolls of his hips switched to frantic thrusts. Unable to move, you simply laid beneath him and took it, squeezing around him with every shock of pleasure he fucked through you, cock twitching violently between your walls as he barrelled towards his high.  

“My perfect wife,” he mumbled into your damp skin like a crazed man, “gonna give you all I have.” You scrambled to reach for his face, pulling it up to meet lidded eyes, pathetic, airy moans leaving plump lips, and he twitched inside you as you watched him fall apart. “Here—hah—here it comes, darling. Take it all, yeah?”  

Blown out pupils rolled back to reveal the whites of his eyes, lashes violently fluttering before he’d sealed his lids shut, his head tilting backwards as far as it could go as ecstasy rushed through his body in searing shockwaves, pumping his cock into you sloppily until he grew still, a day’s worth of neediness and want pouring out of him in watery ribbons of pearly white. 

You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to savour the sight before you: heavily lidded gaze fixed on yours, eyebrows drawn in, and spit-soaked lips hanging open as broken, breathy moans reverberated in the air separating you. You felt so full, and yet Seonghwa’s cock was still feeding weak spurts of cum into your womb, a delicate thumb rubbing soothing circles over your waist. And just when you thought he’d been milked dry, he dragged his cock halfway out of your clenching cunt and back into its inviting warmth, hissing at the sensitivity as he built up his pace until a whimper fell off your lips and you finally succumbed to the pleasure weighing down on your eyelids. 

Soft lips pecked over your eyelashes, honeyed voice ruffling them with warm exhales, “Open your eyes, my love. Let me see you.” 

And how could you refuse him such a soft-spoken request? Stars danced in your vision as you took in Seonghwa’s expression once again—hints of pain masked by overwhelming infatuation and need, as though he could power through the oversensitivity so long as he remained engulfed in your warmth.  

“Hwa.” 

“My pretty girl, my wife—” he spoke as though still in disbelief. His chest heaved, and violent shudders shook his body with the silky glide of his cock over your walls, a ring of cream forming around his base as he fucked your slick and his cum back into the used hole. “Gonna come for me?” 

Nodding frenziedly, you held on to his shoulders, sliding your hands up to his nape and into his hair, wanting to hold onto something but failing to decide on what. But then you were clamping around him, and two pairs of hands desperately clutched the other’s skin, lips meeting in the middle only to expel stunted gasps into each other’s mouths as though you were centuries-old lovers recently reunited. Seonghwa guided you through your orgasm, holding onto your trembling frame even as you tightened around his sensitive cock, two fingers slipping between your sticky bodies to rub circles over your clit.  

“Hwa, fuck—” Back arching, your nipples pressed against his, hips simultaneously seeking more of his touch and jerking away from it. 

“That’s it, baby, ‘being so good for me,” he slipped his cock out of you, a sigh of relief warming your face as his fingers continued their movement over your clit. “Look at you, so full you can’t keep it all in?” 

You followed his gaze down to your core, hips spasming as the stimulation panged at your nerves, but you found yourself transfixed on the thick stream of cum falling out of your pulsating cunt in gallops. Seonghwa’s lust-heavy eyes widened as another wave of your orgasm rushed through you, vivid colours obscuring your blurry vision before fireworks exploded behind your squeezed-shut eyelids. Your fingers grasped desperately at Seonghwa’s wrist, sensing him begrudgingly pull away to grant you some reprieve.   

You weren’t sure how long it took you to come down, to gather the last fragments of energy you had to force your eyes open, to notice the skilled hands ridding you of the knots in the aching muscles of your hips, but you felt at ease knowing Seonghwa was there to welcome you back whenever you were ready. His gaze—ever so gentle—fixed upon your tranquil features, propped up on an elbow while his body laid by your side to give you room to breathe, your chest still heaving from the force of your high. You noticed the subtle, unconscious flick of his stare down to your thighs every few seconds, taking interest in your fruitless battle against the insistent spasms jolting your lower half. 

Huffing out a laugh, you dragged his attention back to your face, and his body slid closer to yours, placing his head on the pillow beside you and watching you shift onto your side. The duvet pulled taut over sweaty bodies, shielded from the chilly ocean breeze, the arms snaked around your waist pulled you into Seonghwa’s chest, any thoughts about leaving the soiled bed dissipating within the man’s secure embrace.  

You inhaled the salty Caribbean scent off his tanned skin, remnants of the luxury perfume he’d sprayed on that morning mixing in with nature’s cologne. Before you could nuzzle closer into his neck, a gentle grip on your nape pulled you back to meet soft eyes, yours fluttering shut once plush lips pressed against your cheekbone, then your forehead, and your nose, until he found your cupid's bow. It was barely a kiss, more so a standstill as you held your lips together, pressing and nipping against the other’s sluggishly as you both fought off sleep’s insistent nagging.  

Beads of sweat slowly dried over your skin, the moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds reflecting through them before dying out. Drunk on one another, you were too occupied to notice the cool-toned shift in hues painting the white walls, missing the sun’s final farewells before it disappeared behind the horizon, and the emergence of glimmering stars to replace the striking gradient of oranges and pinks. You'd missed nature’s tragic goodbye while immersed in your own ardent union. Now, only the moon and its stars bore witness to the lethargic dance of lips hidden under the floral-scented duvet Seonghwa had pulled over your intertwined frame.

Sand still dusted slick skin, and warm breaths mingled in the stuffy space you’d cramped yourselves in, bodies flush against one another as you succumbed to the siren invite of slumber, wishing upon a lifetime emanated by such bliss, tranquillity, and ardour. 

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[restlessmaknae]

i'll be the sun // taesan

The last person Taesan - the leader of the school band - expected to bond over music with was you, the head of the Maths club.

➳ Characters: high school senior!Taesan x high school senior!female reader/you

➳ Genre: high school au, rich kids au, slow burn, coming of age, fluff, some real-life bittersweet parts

➳ Words: 8.1k

➳ Warning: mentions of parental pressure, insecurities, reader had a fall-out with her ex best friend, crying

➳ A/N: This story had the most votes in my recent poll, so here it is! I had a lot of fun writing it because music, Taesan and slow burn stories are a good combo.

This is also a spin-off to my Leehan story, but you don't have to read that one to understand Taesan's part

➳ Dedicated to: @dat-town ❤️

➳ Check out the KOZ International High series masterpost!

You couldn't say that you were looking forward to senior year to start. Moreso, you were looking forward to it to end.

After all, if it was over, you would be over your exams, and if the exams were over, you would be closer to your dream university. Until then, all the assignments seemed daunting, all the extracurricular activities seemed bothersome, and all the tests seemed life-changing. The last thing you expected was to fall in love along the way, but alas, life had a funny way to change your plans.

It all started on a Tuesday. At least, for you, it did.

Since you were the head of the Maths club, you left school later on Tuesdays because that's when you had your weekly club activity. After wrapping things up, you usually stayed behind to print out some more materials for next week and to organise the ones you collected. You also cleaned out the classroom you booked since the cleaning lady usually cleaned the basement during your time slot, not after.

So it was well past 7PM when you made your way back to the homeroom to pick up your PE bag because you didn't want to drag it with you all the way to the basement. You had some books left on your desk either way.

You stepped inside the classroom mindlessly, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you caught sight of someone already there. Taesan was leaning against his seat in the last row, playing on his guitar and bobbing his head to a song with his earphones in. He turned towards the windows with half of his body, so he didn't see you coming in. You noticed that he also closed his eyes while he was playing.

You weren't afraid of Taesan's reaction as per se, but he seemed like he was in his own bubble, and you didn't want to burst it. Alas, you had to get your bag and books, so you tiptoed into the classroom, hoping that the boy wouldn’t hear you moving.

You scooped up your books and threw the sports bag over your shoulder, and not until you turned around, did you realise that you knew the song Taesan was playing. You knew it all too well, and the momentary realisation made you halt just in time for Taesan to open his eyes and take in your presence. He removed his earphones and gazed at you - a bit tentative, but mostly curious.

For a moment, you had no idea how to react. The boy was as unbothered as you were, but there was still some awkwardness lingering in the air, not because it was embarrassing to be in the classroom with someone you didn’t usually talk with, but because you two were very different students on the verge of adulthood, and it was awkward to get caught up in a situation like this.

Not to mention that it felt a bit like déjavu, the flashback from the summer class trip pulling you back to reality.

“It was ‘I Don’t Love You’, right?” You found yourself asking, holding onto the straps of your sports bag to hold onto anything, except the memory from that night during the class trip.

Something flashed in Taesan’s eyes, and you knew immediately that you were right, though there was no reason to deny it. Even though Taesan was the leader of the school band, thus he knew quite a lot about the technical parts of making music, you had never heard him make a comment on anyone’s music taste. What he thought internally was a different question.

“Do you listen to MCR?” He quirked an eyebrow, and still, there was no malice in his voice. If anything, his interest was piqued.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Cool. Me too,” he bobbed his head casually, and you were about to say that you had a feeling that he did since he was playing the band’s song when the cleaning lady marched into the classroom, and made her presence very much known with her high-pitched exclamation: 

“What are you doing here at this hour, kids? Go home!”

You heard Taesan scoff behind you, but you didn’t object. You both packed up your stuff and headed out of the classroom, the now empty corridor filled with the cacophony of your footsteps. As far as you could remember, you had never walked side by side with Taesan like this. You had very different interests, he had his own friend group and well… you didn’t, so your interactions were limited to strictly school-related things like group projects, helping out the boy with a Maths task, and being sat beside each other on a class trip.

Yet, it seemed that you now had something to talk about, and Taesan took advantage of that.

“What’s your favourite MCR song?”

You didn’t even have to think twice about the answer.

“ ‘Teenagers’. You might find it funny, but whenever I step foot into the school, this song comes to mind,” you shared with him as you craned your head to look up at him, just in time to catch an amused smile playing along his lips. You had a feeling you didn’t need to tell him why, all those teenagers at school really did scare you sometimes. “What about you?”

“My favourite one is ‘I Don’t Love You’, but since you recognised it, you must know it already,” he answered a bit shyly, scratching the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed.

It was a new sight for you since Taesan was usually straightforward and confident, someone who seemed to be totally at ease with himself. You sometimes envied the way he carried himself; so coolly as if nothing could bother him, and as if he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life. When you looked into the mirror, all you could see was anxiety and question marks floating around your head, and even though you thought you would gain some confidence from being a straight-A student, it did just the opposite. It fuelled your insecurities even more.

You directed a half-smile at the boy, not sure what to do with his reaction, and kept walking towards the entrance on the ground floor. Taesan inquired what kind of artists you listened to other than MCR, and he seemed so excited to talk about his favourite ones that he barely realised that he was waiting with you at the wrong bus stop. You knew that he usually went home with the bus departing from the stop opposite yours because having no friends anymore meant that you were observant like that.

“Oh sorry, I have to go,” he excused himself when you pointed out that his bus was coming. “See you tomorrow!” He bid his farewell while already running towards the vehicle, his guitar case rhythmically hitting his side and his school bag sliding down his right shoulder.

You watched him leave and take a seat on the bus while panting, his hair dishevelled, his tie loose around his neck. He was so different from you who knew the whole bus timetable by heart, never ever even ran after a bus, and always kept herself in check. However, as he caught you staring and gave you a little wave of his hand, you realised that deep down, you wished to be more like him.

And what was sad about it was that you knew that the only one holding you back from being more like him was actually you.

With the third week of the new term starting came the announcement of the random draw for the annual sports’ day. KOZ International High’s sports’ day was your school’s version of ISAC, and even though you were all coming from influential families and all the students had probably enough money to attend the Olympics games in the VIP section, no one complained about the event. In fact, it was all the school magazine and school radio could talk about for almost two months, and everyone tried to put effort into practising for their own games to not lose face.

Each year, all the classes participated in four different categories - mixed 4 x 100 m relay, archery, swimming and dance -, going up against one another within each year. The only category that allowed students to sign up for was dance as only groups could participate, and they needed to be formed in time to seem somewhat professional. Each year, this was the competition everyone was looking forward to the most since usually professional dancers signed up - like Baekseung, Minwoo and Haruto who always won the dance category in your year.

For all the other categories, there was a random draw during homeroom where your teacher announced who should be participating in which category. For freshman and sophomore year, you had been selected for swimming, last year for archery, and this year, you were asked to do the mixed relay with Millie, Pierre and Taesan. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if Pierre hadn’t insisted on making a groupchat for you all and having practice sessions each week to prepare for the sports day at the end of October.

“We can practise in our own free time. I don’t understand why we should all be gathering in one place each week,” you pointed out matter-of-factly when you had your first “team meeting” on the day of the draw.

“Because it’s about team spirit, you know? You might feel more motivated to run your part if you can see others cheering you on,” Pierre pointed out with unnecessarily grand hand gestures, and you needed to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. However, you caught Taesan watching him with an unamused stare, and the sight made you feel less edgy.

“Besides, we need to practise giving each other the baton. I’ve heard that it can make or break a team’s performance,” Millie chirped in, looking up from her phone on which she was typing up until this moment.

This was exactly the reason you had enjoyed doing archery and swimming for the past 3 years. You had been alone with no team to weigh you down or ask you for unnecessary team meetings. You had practised in your own time at your own pace, problem solved. However, the first obstacle came already when you realised that there was not a single day during the week when you could all be free after classes.

“Can’t you just change the time for your band or club activity?” Pierre asked Taesan and you because you two had your extracurriculars on the same day, the only day when Millie and Pierre would be available.

“No.”

“No way,” you said at the exact same time as Taesan did, and you exchanged a glance, knowing all too well what those Tuesday after-school hours meant to both of you.

“Well, can’t you schedule your family dinner for the weekend, Millie?” Pierre tried again, and the deadly glare she got from the British girl was more than enough to shut him up. Even though none of you had a scheduled weekly family dinner, you knew how it was with rich families: studies and family came first, anything else second.

You brought your notebook closer to your face to examine your notes, and tried to calculate which day could work for everyone. Apparently, none did, so you came up with a different idea:

“Why don’t we practise in pairs? Since you and Millie are free on Tuesday afternoons, you can practise then. Taesan and I are free on Thursday afternoons, we can do it then.”

“But then it won’t be the saaaaame,” Millie pouted as if she had been told something awful, to which Taesan said dryly:

“That’s the only option.”

That managed to convince the two of them, and after a few more minutes of painfully cringe team spirit quotes, you could go on your own way. You immediately bolted off, having had enough of this nonsense, but Taesan fell in step with you, and asked if Thursday was really okay with you.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just don’t want to sacrifice too much time for this, so maybe 30 minutes will do?”

“I was just about to suggest that,” Taesan nodded, a lopsided smile invading his lips, and it felt so easy, so light to talk to him that it actually surprised you. For a second too long, you watched that smile bloom on his lips, and for the first time in four years, you took in the boy’s pitch-black locks that sat messily on top of his head, his equally dark almond-shaped eyes, the defined features of his that were becoming more prominent by the day the closer he got to adulthood, and there was his lanky built, too…

Taesan caught you staring, and you immediately averted your eyes to the mess of the corridor around you instead of the boy’s face because for the first time, it felt scary to feel so light beside someone.

Pierre was very much not the leader type, but he could complain and spam the group chat with gifs of idols running (and failing sometimes). You didn't know what he was doing with all those hagwon classes he claimed to have which made your 4-member practices not work out because you all had hagwon after school, but he was chronically online. You noticed that from the class group chat either way, but it was different when there were only four of you this time and one of them was Taesan, the other one you - the two students who rather focused on their own duties, not this particular group chat.

It was all what students talked about though. Haruto chirped everyone's ears off about their (supposedly jaw-dropping) choreography, Leehan couldn't stop pouting that he and the class president didn't get selected for running, so that they could be in the same team - since they had officially started dating after the summer trip -, and the usual banter between classes started about who would win. This year, Anton - the national swimming champion - didn't get selected for swimming unlike last year, so even that would be an unpredictable competition for the boys.

Honestly, you weren't one for running, but it was something that you could enjoy at times because it helped you concentrate on something other than school. Other times, running around the field wasn't enough to take your mind off the deliberating amount of school work. Especially not when your ex best-friend, Selina, showed up on the field to practise the choreography she and two other girls had come up with for the dance competition.

It was like she was a completely new person - wearing a noticeable amount of make-up instead of her usual no make-up make-up, trying out dancing that she had never dared before and hanging out with girls she had claimed to not particularly like -, and it hurt to see that. Not because you felt envious because of the 180-turn of hers, but because she had said on that one night during the summer trip that she was sick of feeling like second place beside you.

Just because you usually performed better than she did, you had never ever looked at her like a competition, like a charity case. What's more, you enjoyed studying together with her because you were around the same level. Even though your mother cared about your 2nd place at school (after the class president who was always 1st), you had never cared about Selina's 3rd or 4th place.

Clearly, she felt differently.

"Is everything okay?" Taesan's raspy yet gentle voice brought you back to reality, and you immediately turned your head towards him.

"Yeah. Everything's fine," you answered, though you could feel how uncertain the words sounded. How feeble you sounded. "I just... I think it's enough for me for today," you announced, looking down at your wristwatch that indicated that you had started running only 10 minutes ago. You were nowhere near the end of your usual 30-minute session.

"That's fine. I don't really feel like doing it anymore today," the boy shrugged nonchalantly, and you wondered if it was true, or if he was just trying to make you feel better. Either way, you felt grateful for his cool attitude, and went to the changing room without as much as looking back at Selina and the two other girls.

After you got changed and grabbed your stuff, you still found yourself walking towards the windows that were overlooking the school field. Selina did seem a bit awkward, her limbs not catching up with the rhythm, but you couldn't tell whether she actually enjoyed it or not, and that was what gawked at you. The fact that it had been mere months, and you already couldn't tell how she was feeling. Were you always this bad at recognising her feelings? Was this why you had never noticed her feeling like she was someone less worthy than you? Was she right? Had you really made everyone feel insignificant around you?

Something broke in you at the thought, and you found yourself breathless for a moment, holding onto the windowsill for support. You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you were too preoccupied with the tightness of your chest to care. You tried so hard to hold it back, to hold your feelings back ever since the term started that you believed that you could do it without breaking down.

Turns out you were wrong.

"Hey, Y/N! What's wrong?"

Even though Taesan was only a few steps away, his voice felt like it was coming from many miles away. You didn’t look up at him, you didn’t dare to because you didn’t want him to see your tears. Have you ever achieved anything by crying? No. Just more humiliation and more disapproving words from your parents.

“Gosh, this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, hoping that Taesan would just leave. On the other hand, Taesan didn’t budge for a few seconds, but then, he gently directed you to the closest room and closed the door behind you two.

Suddenly, you were surrounded by the smell of leather and there was this unmistakable smell of a storage room coming from all the different types of sports equipment you used for PE classes. You had rarely been here before since it was usually the class-president and vice-president who had the duty to collect the equipment for class, but it was quiet, and there were no curious eyes around, just Taesan’s concerned ones.

You were waiting - no, anticipating would be a better word - for the boy to speak up, to tell you to stop crying, but he stood there, looking up from under his long eyelashes, orbs shining worriedly. He then reached into the pocket of his bag and reached out a few crumpled yet clean tissues.

His gesture just made everything hurt tenfold.

“Why aren’t you telling me that it’s indeed embarrassing, and to stop crying?” You inquired, confused, eyeing the tissues in his hands. The boy looked taken aback by your question at first, eyes furrowed, creases deeping on his forehead, before his features smoothened out, softened to a gentle degree.

“I can’t tell you how you should feel. If that’s how you feel, I don’t have the right to go against it, but personally I don’t feel embarrassed by the sight of you crying,” he confessed so genuinely, so honestly that you teared up immediately. It was like something awakened inside of you, a part of you that you had hidden so deep that now that it surfaced, it felt unfamiliar and wrong.

You reached for the tissues to dry your eyes, but the tears just kept falling, and somewhere along the way, accompanied by your pained sobs, you found yourself telling Taesan the story behind your argument with Selina. He had been there at the peak of it anyway - just trying to tell you and your ex-best friend that you could come down for the bonfire, but Selina hadn’t heard him behind her and kept on going. She had told you that you had been a terrible friend for not feeling sorry for her when she had always been a worse student than you, and that you didn’t see that you made everyone feel insignificant beside you, that’s why you had only her.

It had started so innocently, not even an argument, just talking about your senior year, but it spiralled down way too quickly, you had just stood there, listening to the girl you had called your best friend for 3 years tell you everything as if you had forced her to bottle things up. Back then, you had been too shocked to react in any way other than numbing your feelings, but now it all burst out. It was ugly, it was messy, but it was also very human, and Taesan didn’t say a derogatory word, he hummed at times to indicate that he was listening, but let you speak freely.

Which was odd, and at first, you didn’t even know what to do with it. Usually, your parents stopped you when you started complaining, and said that you shouldn’t overreact things. However, he didn’t interrupt you even when you were searching for words or blowing out your nose between sobs. He also kept giving you tissues, though he ran out of them after a while, and tucked his hands into the back pocket of his jeans to cover up his awkwardness.

By that time, you were feeling better but also worse. You were lighter than minutes ago, but you were also very, very tired. Maybe holding everything back was actually more exhausting than letting everything out in time.

“Thank you.”

You let the words hang between you two, let Taesan ruminate over it, but he just nodded as if it was nothing, and said with all the confidence in the world:

“Anytime.”

You couldn’t tell if it was intentional or accidental, but after a while, you and Taesan started walking towards the bus stop together on Tuesdays after both of you wrapped up your extracurricular activities. You talked about school to a certain extent, but more often than not, you exchanged song recommendations, sharing not just your favourite ones, but explaining which part was your favourite and why. Taesan was obviously more eloquent when it came to music, but he was always interested to hear your opinion, and didn’t put you down even if the best you could mutter sometimes was that the song made you feel something, though you couldn’t tell what.

You also had your relay practices on Thursday afternoons, and after the first two relatively quiet sessions, you developed the habit of cheering for the other when you measured your time, to see how much you improved. Pierre and Millie did the same, sharing their records with you in the groupchat, so that you could decide in which order you would be running at the event. It was going well, and even though it was exhausting to do this on top of schoolwork, at least you were with Taesan, not Pierre. Sharing silence with Taesan didn’t feel awkward, but you were sure that it would have felt horrible with Pierre.

September passed some lingering sunshine onto October, but as the weather turned colder, you chose to run in the gym hall instead of outside on the sports field. That day, Anton and Jungwon were practising archery together while you were running, but you were the first two to leave with Taesan.

You had heard that it would rain that day, so you had packed an umbrella with you, and how smart of you! You noted that it was indeed pouring inside while walking from the changing room to the entrance of the school. Your steps echoed the way the raindrops were hitting the ground on the other side of the big windows, a constant, never-ending melody. Drip drop, drip drop, step by step, step by step…

You halted only when you pushed the front door open, and found Taesan leaning onto a pillar, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. The tip of his Converse shoes was not fully covered by the roof he was standing under, thus, it got dotted with raindrops. He didn’t seem to notice. He did notice you though, and snapped his head back when he heard you take a few steps towards him.

“Are you waiting for someone?” You inquired casually. Not many of you commuted by public transport because most students lived in the student halls on campus. As it was an international high school, and the school attracted talent from all over the world, there were always enough rooms to accommodate every single student if they wished to make use of them. However, since you were from Seoul, and your parents liked to keep an eye on you during term time, you commuted, but it wasn’t bad, only a 25-minute bus ride.

On the other hand, you had always seen Taesan take the bus, so you wondered if it was different this time. Or maybe he was just trying to wait out the rain.

“Ah no,” he shook his head. “I just stopped to check my messages,” he held up the phone in his hand, and you nodded. He scratched the back of his neck, looking up at you with those big, affectionate eyes, and some icy part of your heart melted, drops of water accumulating around it like the puddles on the ground.

“Do you want to walk together? I have an umbrella,” you offered as you pointed at the big black umbrella in your left hand. Taesan looked at it, then back at you, and his lips curled upwards ever so slightly. From him though, that curve was equal to a grin.

So you opened your umbrella, holding it so that it would cover the boy who was taller than you, and it meant that you instinctively started leaning towards him. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, not when your shoulder bumped into his as you came to a halt at a crossroads. You exchanged a gaze, something that you broke almost immediately because you were sure that your face was flushed. You usually didn’t have a problem with closeness like this, but with him, it was different. It was somewhat more intimate.

“Your shoulder is getting wet,” he pointed out when he averted his eyes to your left shoulder, and caught sight of the raindrops sitting on your autumnal coat.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Let me…” He mumbled as he reached for the handle, and you let him hold the umbrella over you two instead. He was taller either way, you decided, but then you saw that it was his shoulder that got rained on because he was holding it over you way more than he did it over himself.

“Gosh, you aren’t any better,” you huffed, not letting it slide. You grabbed the handle of the umbrella, but Taesan didn’t let go, so you just stood there, staring at each other in beautiful agony, your hands touching. Your heart fluttering, heat reaching your cheeks, you yanked your hand away, but stepped closer to the boy instead. “See, we can fit under it if we stand close enough to each other.”

“Is it close enough now?” He quirked an eyebrow, and there was a twitch in the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t decide whether there was a teasing edge to his words or a flirtatious one, and you weren’t sure which one would be better.

You gulped, looking away, and noticed the traffic lights turning green. Hence, you prompted the boy to start walking, so you could fall in step with him. He shook his head, and you swore there was an amused smile playing along his lips, but you were too focused on your own thumping heart to care.

You asked Taesan for a new song recommendation if he had any, and you shared one of your new favourite songs, too. It was ‘Beaches’ by beabadoobee, and for some reason, this song reminded you of the times you spent with the boy: light-hearted, reassuring, comforting. Like the first signs of spring - awakening, blooming, bringing warmth - after a long winter.

Of course, you didn’t tell him that, just that you liked the lyrics and the instrumentals used, but you were curious about his opinion. That’s what you did after all: sharing song recs, the other jotting it down in their notes app, listening to it and sharing their opinion on it either the next time you met in person or via Kakaotalk. This way, you always had something to look forward to in your days, and it was like a little safe haven from all the studying.

For the first time in forever, you didn’t even go through the timetable in your head to calculate when your bus would be coming, you only noticed it when it was already there.

“See you tomorrow,” Taesan said as he handed the umbrella back to you, and you found yourself smiling at his words. How reassuring it was to know that you would be meeting the next day as well.

“See you tomorrow,” you echoed with a lighter heart, watching while he was running to the other side of the road to hide from the rain under the bus stop’s shelter.

It was odd how your perception of Taesan could change in a matter of weeks. You felt a certain kind of fondness towards him now that you couldn't really put your hand on because you had never felt this way before, but you wanted only good things for him. You really wished he could become a musician one day because he truly deserved it. His band 'Insomnia' already uploaded covers onto Youtube, and had a fair share of views, and you liked to indulge yourself in their videos more often than you would admit. Even though all of them were very talented - Jungwon on the drums, Gyuvin on the synthesiser, Yechan and Taesan on the guitar -, your attention always gravitated towards Taesan and his voice. His voice was similar to his personality: multiple layered with many unexpected charms and softness hidden behind that edgy tone of his.

Though Taesan once inquired if you heard their songs and you admitted that you did, you thought that it wasn't that big of a deal. Most girls - and even guys - at school listened to them because they were fairly popular. Though Leehan was the most popular boy in your year, followed by Yechan with his jokester personality and ever-growing Youtube channel, the other members of the band also had their fair share of popularity. Then, there was Anton who was a national swimming champion, so naturally, everybody knew him, but he didn't really let his presence be known outside of the swimming pool, so it was a quiet kind of fame in his case.

Not that popularity really mattered in your eyes, but you found it somewhat heart fluttering that Taesan would be interested in your opinion regarding their band, and your conversations didn't stop even after the sports day when you came in second with your team. Only Pierre made a ruckus about it though, you and Taesan merely exchanged high-fives, and agreed that you were glad that it was over.

However, you didn't think that the boy would one day ask you if you wanted to hear a snippet of a song he was working on.

“Sure. If you don't mind,” you told him after a few seconds of silence while you were contemplating whether he was serious about asking for your opinion.

“It's not finished yet, I'm still trying to see what direction it should go in, but I'm curious what you think about it,” he explained as he brought his earphones out of his pocket, plugged it into his phone, tapped something on the screen and reached it out to you.

It was just you and him in the classroom as usual on Tuesdays, Taesan sitting in the seat behind yours. You turned around to face him, reluctantly grabbing his earphones and putting them into your ears. There was just something so intimate about this gesture of his: sharing his own song idea with you and sharing his own earphones with you that you needed to pacify your crazily beating heart to actually hear the song.

The snippet that you heard seemed to be the beginning of a love song, and the first thing that came to your mind was how cosy it was, and how easy it was to listen to it. It was something different from Insomnia’s usually punk-rock heavy songs, but the instrumentals were still there, just softer. Like how he had been acting around you despite his seemingly colder facade. The lyrics were about keeping ‘you’ in their memories, and promising to protect ‘you’ which sent a chill down your spine because for a moment, it felt like he was really singing to you.

Taesan kept his eyes on his phone's screen to see where the recording was at, so he immediately looked up when the song finished. He quirked an eyebrow in question while you took out the earphones.

“So…” He cleared his throat before continuing, albeit rather reluctantly. “How did you like it?”

“I liked it, I really did. It was softer than the songs you usually play, but I liked this side of you,” you remarked with a gentle smile, and something caught in his eyes which made you falter. If he was more shocked or just intrigued, you couldn't tell, but you... you were horrified. “I mean, this side of your music... uhmm... your music style.”

You were sure that you were blushing like crazy because how could that have just slipped out? Gosh, this was so embarrassing…

“But I would have made the beginning part a bit longer, so that it could stand out a bit more,” you added, hoping to save yourself from further embarrassment.

You averted your eyes to the desk instead of his face, so you couldn't tell how he reacted, but he jotted down your opinion nevertheless.

“Thanks. I was actually thinking of changing up that part, so thanks for reinforcing that idea.”

You dared to look up at him at this time, and there was this soft smile playing along his lips that made your stomach do somersaults. It was so rare to see him smile like that, and when you were the reason for it, all of your tenseness regarding your own actions melted away.

“Actually, I wanted to show you this song because…”

“Is it you two again?” Came the cleaning lady's indignant voice from the classroom door, and you both snapped your heads back to look at her. Hands on her hips, eyebrows furrowed, the elderly woman didn't seem too happy to find you two in the classroom after 7 o’ clock yet again.

You had to suffer through a few more reprimanding sentences of hers while you were packing up your stuff to leave. Once outside of the school, you asked Taesan what he was trying to say before.

“Ah nevermind,” he shrugged, looking away, and you didn't push him to tell you.

So you continued your walk to the bus stop like always, as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't just showed you a song that could make you question your own feelings towards him, and ultimately, his own feelings towards you.

On Tuesdays, it was usually you who finished sooner, and Taesan was already in the classroom by the time you made your way back there. Not this time though.

You managed to bump into the whole band when you walked out of the room you booked for the Maths club. Unbeknownst to you, you halted in front of the four boys, your eyes darting between Taesan and the rest of the guys.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Yechan cheered excitedly, grinning widely. You reciprocated his greeting and his smile, holding the notebook and the folder you used to your chest.

“Done with the Maths club for today?” Gyuvin inquired, and you immediately confirmed that you did, but then you realised that he didn’t necessarily have to know what you were doing there. After all, if it hadn’t been for Taesan, you wouldn’t have known that Insomnia was practising on Tuesdays at this time around.

“How do you know that?”

“Oh well,” the boy boasted a childish grin, gazing at Taesan from time to time to signal his answer to you, but the head of the school band appeared nonchalant. “Somebody did tell us about it.”

“Not even just once, but multiple times,” Jungwon chimed in, sharing the boys’ teasing, and you had to sniffle a giggle at Taesan’s reaction. The boy tried so hard to seem totally unaffected by the obvious callout, but he was avoiding your eyes, chewing on his lower lip, his hands flying to the back of his neck to scratch it. Something that he did when he was ever so scarcely embarrassed.

“I see,” you hummed knowingly, amused by the guys’ little display of playfulness before Yechan smacked his head.

“Oh guys, I think we need somewhere to be! You know, the thing I told you about before practice…” He announced out of the blue, and even though a flash of surprise crossed Gyuvin’s face, he recovered quickly, and both him and Jungwon acted like they knew exactly what he was talking about. Taesan, on the other hand, seemed awfully perplexed with his furrowed eyebrows and forehead creases.

“Now let’s go, let’s not waste any time. See you at school tomorrow, Taesan! And Y/N, of course,” Yechan hollered before exiting the scene, followed by the grinning Gyuvin and a smiling Jungwon who looked like he came straight out of a toothpaste commercial.

You watched them leave with a light-hearted smile, then looked at the boy in front of you who seemed awfully nervous. It was vastly different to who he really was - the usually cool and composed Han Taesan, the leader of Insomnia, someone who had never lost his patience before. Now, he seemed like a lost kitten who couldn’t find their way around an alley, and the thought made your lips curve upwards.

“Heading to the bus stop?” You asked matter-of-factly, hoping to ease the slight awkwardness in the air.

Taesan’s shoulders visibly dropped when he caught your gaze, and he was about to open his mouth, but closed it in the end. You quirked an eyebrow, suddenly confused by his gesture, but then he spoke up:

“Actually, do you remember that song of mine I showed you last time? Do you want to hear the final version? I finished it yesterday,” he suggested casually, but there was a hint of doubt lacing his words. On the other hand, you couldn’t have been more sure of an answer, so you nodded, and followed him into the practise room they usually occupied.

Even though the room already boasted many musical instruments, the boy got his guitar out of his case with as much elegance as only a well-practised artist could. After setting it up, so that he could play comfortably, he started playing the song from last time. He did work on making the beginning of the song longer, and there were parts that he changed a bit, but overall, it had the same cosy vibe. The lyrics were also extended, him singing that he wanted to be a hero, an angel or whatever you wanted to call someone you could lean on to ‘you’, and when the words left his mouth, a pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You were totally caught up in your feelings - as if the melody wrapped you up, and you were just spinning inside the hurricane of his, going round and round with each passing second. There was nothing else around you, just him and the song. It felt a bit like you were in your own world, something that just the two of you had, that’s why the silence that followed the last accords felt so striking.

Taesan put his guitar to the side after he finished, and you found yourself clapping instinctively. You didn’t think too much into the gesture, but the boy was fighting a smile, and eventually failed. A beautiful, grateful smile blossomed in its wake.

“Before you ask, I liked it a lot. It felt light and comforting,” you admitted before asking about the inspiration behind the song because you were genuinely curious about it. He had mentioned before that a lot of his songs were inspired by books, movies and stories he heard from others, so you wondered if it was the same this time as well.

His eyes widened a bit hearing your question, and for a moment, you thought that you asked something intimate. Then, he sucked in a deep breath before confessing:

“It was inspired by you.”

“By me?” You repeated, exasperated.

“Yeah. I started working on it after I saw you crying that day,” he started, and even though his voice didn’t waver, you could feel that he wasn’t completely confident in his answer. “I don’t think I was the best at reassuring you back then, so I wrote this song because this is what I wanted to say then. I’m just not really good with words, you see,” he let out a little, somewhat ashamed giggle by the end, averting his eyes from your face to the strand of cotton he was currently picking on his pants.

You were speechless for a few seconds, digesting his words - or rather his confession. You were convinced that he had been the best kind of reassurance he could have been at the time, and you appreciated that he had listened to you, that he had told you that you could feel however you wanted, he wasn’t embarrassed by the sight of you crying, and then there had been his crumpled tissues, too.

The reason you didn’t mind spending time with him, rather, you felt comforted by his presence was because of that night: because he had seen you at such a low point, he had heard your sob story regarding Selina, and he hadn’t turned his back on you. Not out of pity because Taesan would be the last person who would do something like that out of pity, but because he truly wanted to get to know you better.

“I… I think you did enough back then. I was the one who felt ashamed because I thought I said too much, and I didn’t want to open up to someone in case…” In case they would leave you like Selina did. In case they felt insignificant, and called you a horrible person. In case they broke your heart just enough to make you never want to lend it to another person, ever again.

Taesan hummed, playing with his fingers resting in his lap before finding your eyes, and he gave you that soft smile that you were so grateful to see on him.

“You don’t have to worry about that. As I’ve said in the song, you can lean on me,” he reassured you gently, and everything ceased to exist in that moment, even time itself. It felt like your heart - that had not been thumping before - now beat for the very first time, awakening from its deep, deep sleep.

And you welcomed this warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest with open arms.

To be honest, you were scared of this newfound feeling at first. It was as if everything was so easy, so natural. Nothing ever felt forced with Taesan. Sometimes you had lunch together at the canteen, sometimes you didn’t. Sometimes you stopped by each other’s desk in the morning to talk, sometimes you didn’t. Sometimes he asked you to help him with a Maths problem, sometimes you talked about anything but school.

On top of that, you were scared of this feeling because of the timing as well. Senior year seemed like the worst possible time to fall in love. However, after a while, you couldn’t deny it. You tried, you really did try to push these feelings aside, and Taesan was gentle enough to not push you for an answer. Even though he hadn’t confessed as per se, you highly doubted that a song like his would be inspired by someone who was just a friend.

As time went by, Christmas break rolled around, and you didn’t see him for some time. Then, he didn’t show up at school the following week because he had come down with a cold or so you were told by Leehan. So the next time you saw him, you had every reason to be looking forward to seeing him, and it was just your luck that it was a Tuesday as well, so you were more than sure that you would leave the school together.

You were right, but as you were leaving the building, you stopped the boy, and reached a knitted wool scarf out to him, something that matched his dark winter coat. Taesan eyed it for a few seconds before you broke it down to him:

“It’s for you. I wouldn’t have to give you one if you just got yourself a scarf, especially after being sick last week,” you told him, and you realised that you were almost reprimanding him. How could you not though? He was still not wearing a scarf, and it was freezing cold now.

“It was just a cold,” he justified, but there was an amused smile in the corner of his lips. Mind you, this was not a usual behaviour from you, but last week, you had enough time to ponder about his whereabouts before asking Leehan. Because apparently, it was embarrassing to tell you through Kakaotalk that he was sick, so you had to ask his best friend.

“Still, I was worried when you didn’t show up on Monday.”

“Oh, so you were worried about me?” He raised an eyebrow, playfully leaning closer to you while grabbing the scarf. For a few seconds, you two just stared at each other, stared into each other’s eyes, and it was so easy to get lost in those deep, dark galaxies. Then, you willed yourself to tear your gaze away, and pushed the scarf into his hands once and for all, a bit more forcefully than you intended.

“This is not funny, Taesan. I just don’t want you to get sick again, okay? I couldn’t help but worry about you last week, and I’ve missed spending time with you, so if you don’t want to skip out on that, I suggest you take that scarf and dress warmly.”

“You missed spending time with me?” Taesan repeated, the playfulness slowly leaving his voice, his tone taking on a more serious and curious layer. He eyed you for a good second before asking: “Why?”

“Because I like you, why else?” You threw your hands into the air, exasperated, because you had enough of his teasing for the day, but when you realised what you had just said, your hands flew to your mouth.

You didn’t expect to tell him that so straightforwardly, let alone do this just in front of the school with the scarf you had gotten him still in his hand, but it just burst out, and there was no stopping it. Not that Taesan seemed to mind as his lips slowly curled upwards in a somewhat coy manner, and his reaction immediately made you feel relieved.

“That’s good… because I like you, too,” he confessed, and put the scarf around your neck to pull you close to him. You smiled into his embrace as his arms slowly enveloped you, and although it was winter, it felt like being embraced by the sun.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think! 😊

Click here for my BND masterlist

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Also, some fun little details and researches because they heavily inspired the story:

Title taken from Taesan's self-composed song called 'sink into the memory' which is also the song that was inspired by reader in the story (when Taesan finishes the song in the story, the lyrics' interpretation is totally made up by me)

Here is Taesan singing MCR's 'I Don't Love You'

Here is Taesan talking about his top 3 MCR songs

Header taken from this WHY Concept Film

Check out the Taesan POV prequel: 'i'll be the moon'

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[probablysimpledreams]

hello!!! congrats on 200!! could I get shigaraki + "said you're not in my time zone but you wanna be" + maybe online friends au? (You can really do whatever kind of au you want, i don't mind!) Thank you for doing these, congrats again!! 🖤🖤

Hiii lovely<3333 thank you so so much Kisa!!!!! AA I LOVE ONLINE FRIENDS AU WITH SHIGGY it's so good for him hehe I had fun with this I hope you enjoyyyy (throwing lots of love your way) <333

cw: fluff <3 you two are in love but this is like predating situation (and had to add Shiggy being in a band bc LOV band is so real to me)

wc: 1254

You groan as another email popped into your inbox, announcing its presence with a sharp ding that has been haunting you all week. Usually you had no issues with your job as it paid well and the work was relatively easily. However, this past week had you rethinking all those positive thoughts after being thrown onto a last minute project with a team that does not work well together. You've been having to come in much earlier than usual all week too, and now that it was Friday that exhaustion was catching up to you. Before clicking on the new emails demanding your attention, your eyes travel down to the corner of your laptop to find the time. 12:06 pm. Great.

You rub your eyes then take a deep breath as you work through the next tasks that needed to be completed this week. If you could just power through these last few hours then you could get home and spend the rest of the evening with Tomura, as Fridays were designated as movie nights for you two. You and Tomura had met in a random Discord server almost a year ago, bonding over a similar taste in video games and music. You two connected instantly, spending many of the early days of getting to know each other pulling all nighters to keep talking. However between the responsibilities in both your lives growing and Tomura being in a timezone hours ahead of your own, these all nighters got harder to do. That's why Friday movie nights were so special to you both, as it was a guaranteed day you both could be online all night and just sleep in the following day.

Buzz buzz. The vibration from your phone grabbed your attention away from the laptop you've been staring at for hours on end as you pulled it from your pocket to read the message.

tomura: What's the name of that restaurant you're obsessed with again? With the ramen you like so much

you: Ramen House lol why?

[tomura liked your message]

You shake your head giggling before putting your phone away. Who knows what he's up to, you can just ask him later. A couple more minutes pass before your phone goes off again.

tomura: Why the fuck is food so expensive in your city?😐

you: Don't even get me started😩 why do you think I only get that place on special occasions LMAOOO

[tomura laughed at your message]

After what felt like ages, the workday finally wrapped up and you could head home. A wave of energy washed over you as you skipped to your car, shooting Tomura a quick message before speeding off home.

you: IM FREE🙌 idk how I did it😩

tomura: Yay :) Rough day again?

you: Yeah :/ just happy it's over and finally our movie night <333

tomura: Same :) btw there should be something at your door when you get back

you: huh ????

[tomura laughed at your message]

As you make the drive back to your apartment, you can't stop thinking about that message. He had sent you mail before, but only twice for different holidays. Also, if he had bought you something he probably would have told you much earlier in the week so you could be expecting it. What could possibly be waiting for you today all of a sudden? And that's when you see the bag of food and drink sitting right outside your day, a DoorDash receipt stapled to the bag listing your favorite meal in a size large enough where you will definitely have leftover to enjoy tomorrow.

you: TOMURA YOU DID NOT

you: crazyyyy way to ask for my hand in marriage but my answer is yesss <3333 making out with you through the screen (with tongue)

tomura: Nevermind, telling the driver to come back and get it now that you made it weird🙄

you: oh pls you love me just as much

[tomura liked your message]

tomura: Get inside so we can start the movie idiot

Tomura was happy you weren't on the call just yet as his cheeks were still flushed from your cute message. You grab your dinner, smiling and humming happily as you enter into your apartment. After kicking off your shoes and throwing on some comfortable clothes, you practically jump onto your bed to pull up the video call with Tomura.

"Thank you again for my dinner Tomu," you smile as the call connects. He offers you a small smile in return, avoiding direct eye contact as he works to pull up the movie he has picked out for tonight.

"It's really no big deal, I know how hard the week has been for you. And knowing your lazy ass, you probably wouldn't have even cooked dinner if I didn't order you it," he joked. You stuck your tongue out at him before taking another bite of the noodles, humming happily as the flavor and warmth enters your body. You're too focused on the food to notice the way Tomura watches you with a gentle expression. God you were too cute.

Before starting the movie, you ask him about his week. He shares with you how work has been treating him lately, and how band practices have been laster longer with an upcoming gig in their future. He shares some funny stories of his bandmates, making you giggle as you love hearing about his friends. You then share your latest work endeavors, how you finally finished that project up today and how earlier this week you and your friends went to the drive in movies since the weather has been warming up. All your worries and stresses just melted away whenever talking to Tomura. And he took note of it too, his heart beat quickening as your eyes lit up whenever you talked to him. You made him feel special in a way he'd never imagine someone could.

After a couple hours of conversations, though it felt more like twenty minutes, you and Tomura started up the movie. The movie was one that had been on both your watch lists for a while now, and Tomura felt it fit the vibe well as it featured the type of actions he enjoyed and many actors you adored. It's about half way through when Tomura looks away from the movie and over to you, excited to see your reactions to the latest plot development occurring. His eyes widen before letting out a chuckle at the sight of you fast asleep, mouth open and drooling slightly with your favorite stuffed animal in your arms. You must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly tonight, but Tomura didn't mind. You both had tomorrow off so could always rewatch the movie then, or even just play some video games. As long as he gets to spend time with you the details don't matter much.

As the movie wraps up, Tomura moves to stretch his arms and upper body. He then turns towards the window, watching as early morning sunlight begins filling the room slowly. He looks back over to you on the screen, smiling as you're still deep asleep and probably will be for the next few hours. He whispers "I love you" as he watches you before ending the call. Before he climbs into bed for a quick nap, he pulls out his phone and sends you a message.

tomura: Hope you sleep well, don't drool on your laptop loser💀 Call me when you're awake

[sungbites]

MORE FUN TO MISS ━ zhong chenle

pairing : chenle x fem reader genre : angst? band au, fluff ish, e2l warnings : mentions of drugs and being high, kissing, not proofread synopsis : being in a band was frustrating but even more frustrating when your bandmate was such a hardass wc : 1.7k a/n : this is for my bff ily roni and yes this is daisy jones & the six inspired LISTEN TO MORE FUN TO MISS BY DAISY JONES & THE SIX!!!

“again” chenle muttered, making you glare at him. he looked back at you, gesturing you to put your headphones on again and stand closer to the mic. you glanced at your producer, johnny,  who counted you down to when he would turn your mic on and you began singing. 

you had sang this line fifteen times. after recording the instrumental which also took several attempts you began recording the actual song and chenle had to nitpick every mistake he could possibly come up with. 

“you’re too pitchy” “too high” “no it’s off” again and again and again and again. his voice rang in your head as you sang the line. you heard the mic turn off once more and you looked to chenle who was sitting behind the glass, watching you. “do it again.” he said, making you suck your teeth. “im taking five” you mumbled, slipping off the headphones and leaving them on the mic. “yn i said ag-“ “im taking five!” you yelled back, walking out of the booth and slamming the door. 

outside sat your bandmates, who had been seeing everything through the glass of the door. chenle came out of the room, glaring at you. “why the fuck would you just walk out. get back in there yn” even his voice was annoying you now, maybe he was too pitchy. “i’ll get back in there when you get off your high horse!” you replied, voice getting louder. whatever conversation everyone else was having died down to look at the two of you. 

“what are you even talking about yn” he furrowed his brows, matching your tone. “you’re fucking targeting me! i didn’t need to record that line fifteen times chenle!” you groaned out, frustrated over what he was doing. “face it yn, you’re not as good as you think!” he spat back, words laced with venom. “are you fuck-“ “enough! both of you!” jeno called out, standing up to walk in between the two of you. 

“you’re both saying things you don’t mean” he glanced at you then chenle. you rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to speak up but he stopped you. “20 minutes in the closet, both of you.” he pointed his head at the storage closet and you both groaned. “whatever” chenle mumbled, going over to the closet and shutting the door. jeno looked to you, gesturing his head and you sighed, heading into the closet. 

the band had rules, one of them being if two people were arguing too much they'd have to spend a certain amount of time in the closet. the rule originated because during your early days everyone was at each others throats. it was helpful sometimes, but right now the last place you wanted to be was confined somewhere with him. 

things between you and chenle was always complicated, both of you were the main singers of the band and sometimes it caused some issues, but lately it seems as if it’s gotten worse. when you first joined the band you had a small thing for him, but that went away quickly after you saw him sucking some other girls tongue. you kept your distance but for some reason he kept pulling you close to him. 

in pulling you close to him you began spending more time with him. most of it being writing songs, you would write a piece of music and then pass it to chenle as if it was this secret language only the two of you knew how to read or translate. things were good, but then they blew up. 

the breaking point was him telling rolling stones that in no way shape or form were you his muse. it stung, knowing someone you wrote songs with could just toss you to the side for his own gain. so you did the most sensible thing, invited the rolling stones reporter to a rager and got high out of your mind with him, in an attempt to prove you were chenles muse. 

that blew over quick because you were on all sorts of drugs and the reporter instead called chenle to take you home safe, after chenle arrived at the party you had no idea what happened since you blacked out. ever since chenle had been treating you like you were the bottom of the barrel and this was just the tip of the iceberg. 

you weren’t sure what made you more mad, chenle targeting you or the lyrics, oh those lyrics. ‘more fun to miss than to be with’ one of them read. the words burned into your head like a cow being branded, was it about you? chenle handed you the lyrics to the song as if it was some big joke and you were the butt of it. what could it even mean. 

you sighed, reaching in your pocket for a cigarette then lighting it. chenle glanced at you then rolled his eyes. “put it out” he mumbled, he leaned against the wall, now looking at you, crossing his arms. “no” you replied back, blowing the smoke into the small confined space the two of you were in. “yn im serious, put it out.” he said once more, this time speaking up clearly. 

you held eye contact with him and rolled your eyes, letting the cigarette fall then stepped on it. you two stood in silence for a minute until you couldn’t take it anymore. “what the fuck were those lyrics” you said, glancing over at him. chenle gave you a look and hesitated before speaking. 

he pushed himself off the wall making him closer to you. “do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he looked in your eyes, he was mad. it wasn’t that hard to tell he was pissed at you but for some reason this had something else behind it. “what?” you breathed out, eyebrows furrowed looking up at him. 

“you were high out of your mind in a house full of people who didn’t know you, so tell me,” he moved closer to you, making your back hit the wall as you stepped backwards. “do you have any idea how dangerous that was for you?” he repeated the same question but now his tone was softer, almost as he was.. worried? no, he couldn’t be. 

“stop acting like you care chenle.” you said, your words hanging in the air as he stared back at you. he still had the same frustrated expression on his face as he looked down at you. for a second you thought he would kiss but instead he backed away, leaning against the wall opposite of you. “i do care yn” he finally said, crossing his arms. 

there was a heavy silence in the air after chenle spoke, you were too angry to get the words out. so you stood there, the words stuck in your throat and too angry to even bother speaking. he cared? if he cared so much then why would he lie to the reporter? why would he say that you weren’t his muse when he would slip you songs he wrote about you in the middle of the night, unable to sleep? why would he even write with you to begin with? were you just a game, for him to earn more money with the band? 

“if you care so much chenle then why did you lie to the reporter?” you finally got the words out. he looked up, eyebrows furrowed now. before he could speak you did. “why would you say that im not your muse?” you stood up straighter now, his expression still the same. “why would you say that not knowing how it would affect me? did you just want to make more money? and not even bother caring about who you hurt in the process?” you continued, your tone still harsh. 

now chenle stopped trying to speak up, letting you talk. “you wrote songs about me. about how much you wanted me and wanted to have me. so was it all just a game?” you looked in his eyes, tears brimming in your own. “because if it was i can just leave chenle, and i wont come back so tell me if i was-“ he cut you off by kissing you. 

unable to hear your words anymore chenle kissed you. he held your face in his hands as he kissed you slowly. you could’ve pushed him off, told him to fuck off but instead you let your heart take over and you kissed him back, holding him by his neck. the kiss got faster as you backed up against the wall, chenle now caging you. 

it felt like so many words were unspoken through the kiss, everything the two of you had been holding in was now being let out. the kiss started slowing down, you swore you could feel every crack on his lips, as well as the soft taste of the coffee he drank. chenle pulled back, both of your faces flushed and lips a light shade of red. you look up at him, breathing unevenly. “does that answer your question?” his voice wasn’t above a whisper, but he could be heard loud and clear. 

one thing led to the next and you and chenle were back in the recording booth, where you started. “okay, so we’ve had our extended five, are we all good now?” johnny spoke into the mic as you slipped on your headphones. “all good here” you spoke clearly into the mic and glanced at chenle. he watched your every move, how you sat on the stool and flipped through the lyrics. “yeah i’m good” he finally said making johnny smile and clap. 

“alright, then let’s get started” he said, smiling. johnny counted you down and you began singing the first verse, hoping that after that in the closet, chenle would finally approve. this time, you got through the first verse without chenle cutting your mic. finally, johnny cut your mic right before the pre chorus and you glanced over at chenle who simply smiled. he leaned in to push the button for you to hear him, “good as always yn” he said, making you smile as well. he leaned back in his chair, smiling right back at you. 

no one knew how you and chenle made up but one thing was for certain that the kiss would be happening a lot more now. 

taglist : @kisseudoll @hyuckworld @lqfiles @cupidhoons @ronniee-26 @bywonyo @aerifim @17ericas @polarisjisung @sunghoonsgfreal

dream taglist

© all rights to sungbites 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost my works

[dixons-sunshine]

Pull Through | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While you were injured with no way of knowing if you'd make it or not, Daryl let the group in on his feelings. He shares some of his memories with you, as well as some of his worries.

Genre: Angst.

Era: Prison, post season three, pre season four.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU, but can be read as a standalone. However, some call backs are made to previous parts in this.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/n: I've had this idea in my mind for another part to the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU for a while now, but I just don't know how to put it into a proper fic. This is more of a filler than an actual fic, but anyways. Hope you like this!

“Ya know, Shane wasn't the first person to tell me tha' I dun' deserve her.”

Rick looked up from his daughter to look at the archer, Daryl holding his own five month old baby girl in his arms. Rick's heart broke at the sight of his found brother's clear distress evident on his face. He was staring off at nothing in particular, thankfully lucid enough to keep Hazel in place on his lap. It was clear that your recent injury had taken its toll on Daryl, and Rick knew that if you didn't wake up from your little coma, Daryl would be a mess; he would be a bigger mess than Rick was when he lost Lori.

“My whole life, even 'fore I grew the balls to confess to her, people were tellin' me tha' I dun' deserve her, tha' I ain't good 'nough fer her, tha' she'll see it herself and leave me.” Daryl stopped for a moment, his attention temporarily being diverted to his daughter who was starting to fuss a little. He whispered sweet nothings to her in the hopes of calming her down, slightly bouncing his leg and successfully coaxing a giggle from her. “But she never left. Even when things weren't all sunshines and rainbows, she stayed. She loved me regardless of all of my flaws, and god knows I have a shit ton of 'em. She ain't ever even thought 'bout walkin' outta the door, even when she could'a, and I wouldn't have blamed her.”

By now, a few people in the group has stopped to listen to the usually quiet archer. Beth, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Tyreese, Hershel, Michonne, Carl and Carol stopped to listen to him. It was extremely rare to hear Daryl talk about anything outside of the usual “formal” work talk—who would go on runs, who'd work on the fence, etc.—so everyone was intrigued to hear the brooding huntsman speak his mind.

“She deserved so much better than me, and I know tha', but she didn't think so. She stuck with me through everythin'. Through most'a my childhood, through highschool, through Merle and his bullshit, everythin'.” Daryl inhaled sharply and let out a shaky exhale, trying to keep his emotions under control. “She always managed to make the most outta everythin'. When I saw a glass tha' was half empty, she saw a glass tha' was half full. Ya know, our first apartment we lived in after movin' outta her mom's trailer was so shitty.”

“Yeah?” Rick replied, just letting Daryl know that he was listening.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed with a broken chuckle, nodding his head and allowing Hazel to play with his fingers. “Hot water didn't work most'a the time, the oven only worked when it wanted to, the pipes made this weird screeching sound whenever it was cold, and the window to our bedroom was jammed shut. It never opened, so it was hella hot in the summer.” He sighed again and shook his head. “We lived in tha' crappy place fer years 'fore either of us had 'nough money to move into a better place. But she never complained, never threatened to leave me if I didn't find a better apartment, never once blamed me when she had to take a cold shower in the winter. Hell, she even planned on proposin' to me 'cause I was takin' too long.” For added emphasis, he lifted his left hand to show off the silver band he proudly wore every day of his life since that day in your apartment. “I beat her to it, though. She's jus' so amazin'. I love her. I can't lose her. I'll die without her.” And with that last sentence, a sob finally broke out of the archer's chest.

Within seconds, Rick had gently grabbed Hazel from Daryl's arms and passed her over to Carol—who had been on her way to offer her own support to the huntsman—before wrapping his arms around his unofficial brother. Judith had been passed over to Beth during Daryl's speech to be put down for the night, so it made it easier for the former sheriff to jump up and hug Daryl. The archer never once displayed any forms of sadness in front of the group that had to do with crying. His sadness was usually handled through anger, but this wasn't a usual situation. You—the love of his life and the mother of his baby girl—were clinging on for dear life in your weakened state. The attackers that ambushed the group of people who went on the run the previous day made you suffer the worst of the attack. Hershel did his best with the supplies he had, but there was no telling if you'd recover until you woke up, if you ever woke up. And that scared Daryl beyond belief.

Rick didn't hold Daryl long, maybe two minutes at most, until he pulled away. Daryl furiously wiped at the tears in his eyes, mad at himself for displaying such weakness in front of everybody. However, nobody made any sort of comment towards him, their own understanding and worry towards you preventing them from doing so.

“If there's one thing I know,” Rick began, standing up and allowing Daryl to have some space. “It's that you Dixons are fucking stubborn. She'll pull through, I know it.”

Daryl sniffed and nodded, wiping his eyes one more time before getting up and gently taking his daughter from Carol. “She needs to be put to bed soon. She, uh, needs to see her mama 'fore it, though, jus' in case...”

Just in case you didn't make it.

Rick nodded sympathetically, and with that, Daryl walked away from everyone's empathetic gazes. He walked up the stairs and made his way to the makeshift medical cell, expecting to see you asleep, like you had been for over twenty-four hours at that point. However, he was instead met with the sight of you sat up and crouched over to the side, heaving and clutching at your chest, awake and alert, and he didn't hesitate to call for help.

“Hershel!”

Within seconds, the old man had hobbled himself over to the cell and was by your side in an instant. He was helping you put an oxygen mask over your mouth to help you breath, and once you weren't struggling to breathe anymore, he sent a frightened looking Daryl a reassuring smile. He beckoned him closer, and with Hazel still in his arms, he walked over to you and sat down on the bed, hugging you gently and quickly before pulling back—there would be time to crush you to him and never let you go when you weren't sat with a recently shot stomach and a few broken ribs. Hershel patted his back reassuringly, and he sent a very awake, lucid you a warm smile.

“Welcome back.” He turned to Daryl and nodded. “She pulled through.”

“S'a good sign, righ'?”

For the first time in twenty four hours, Hershel gave the archer good news. “It's a damn good sign.”

You were grunting and reaching out to Daryl, and your husband instantly knew what you were requesting. With a nod from Hershel, Daryl slowly transfered Hazel into your arms, and your little one instantly recognized her mama's touch. Her mood instantly brightened, right alongside her father's.

You were okay. However, the same definitely wouldn't be said for the son of a bitch held prisoner as soon as Daryl was done with him later—he was going to pay for hurting you, and Daryl wasn't going to go easy on him, either.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[postersofleon]

Just Like The Beatles

Being in a band with three men while being a lonely girl would sound difficult, but you all managed to make it work. You four tried to use bonding exercises to avoid issues, which included livestreams with fans or smoked weed in private. When you joking said, you should do that infamous Beatle game in Hamburg. You didn't expect them to accept.

content: smut

notes: afab fem!reader; 'bonding' with the boys; um, i can't explain; luis x leon x chris x you; man on man action; modern au; ooc characters; SMUTTY. like there is no plot at all. minors, i know i can't control you, but... this is a sexual situation. if i say, don't read this, you are stubborn and will still try. I'm trying to finish all my long stuff to not overwhelm myself.

taglist: @argreion

The digital clock counted another minute. All the hotel room heard was the breathing of each member of the group. Luis's brown eyes looked at each of his members. This wasn't gay, right? He took a deep breath, "Do you have your dildo?" He wanted to make sure this was perfect for their dumb new activity of the day.

You groaned softly, "I, I got it." You showed your pink toy to your friends. Leon's cheeks turned a bit red but he stayed focused on the mission. Chris nodded his head as well. "Okay, so, how did the Beatles do it again?" He asked softly.

"Well, it was a masturbating game," Leon mumbled softly, "They jacked their dicks together as they yelled out names. Lennon mentioned Churchill but they still... had to cum."

Yeah, this was basically insane.

You nodded your head and took off your bathrobe, showing at least a bit of your breasts and raised your bottom side of it. "I'm ready, I guess." Luis swallowed when he saw your boobs, "I still don't know how this is bonding exercise." He felt himself just getting hard by seeing his lead singer's breasts.

Chris sighed, "Well, if it weren't for her research the Beatles," He rubbed his thighs and pulled out his limp dick, "And you two bozos accepting it. We could've just done a stupid Tiktok trend."

Leon rolled his eyes, "It sounded like a good idea. You saw what music the Beatles did."

"Yeah, until they broke up." Chris muttered.

Leon pulled out his own half harden dick, "No wonder we don't have girlfriends." Leon looked at everyone half naked side. Your pussy and your dildo slowly rubbing it gently to make it wet. Leon groaned, "Fuck, this is definitely a bad idea."

Luis groaned, "Don't judge, I didn't shave." He showed his and he had a bunch of pubes were just there.

"This is so gay." Leon mumbled.

"Forget it." You said, "Now, we have to figure out how to get properly aroused to play the game."

The four idiots looked at each other. Luis saw Chris's dick and Leon's... and soon your cunt. He gently rubbed his to raise it up. "I'm... I'm really trying, eh." He grunt softly.

You closed your eyes for a second and rubbed your dildo on your tits. You clicked on the end of it, and it began to buzz. You focused the buzzing on your nipples and moved it up and down. Leon, Chris, and Luis were just enjoying the how you looked. Leon's legs opened, and he whined softly as his hips buckled.

Chris's eyes followed how the dildo just played around your body.

"I'm wet." You said.

I'm hard." Luis muttered, trying to keep it nice and steady.

Leon nodded his head as he removed his bathrobe. The trio without shame looked at Leon. Leon was a soft version of hot compared to Chris and Luis. Leon had body hair, but he trimmed most of the guys.

Chris was struggling a bit. He sighed, "I can't." The trio looked up at their leader. "Why not?" You asked. Keeping yourself wet sucked as your fingers began to rub your clit to assure it. Chris groaned, "I just don't jack off a lot. I don't even like watch porn."

Leon, Luis, and you had a guilty look.

"It-it's fine. Let's play, and maybe Chris will get hard from... something." Leon knew either way, Chris will feel it. The dildo entered your hole and pumped the toy in and out. "First name..." You whispered softly.

"Albert Wesker." Leon started easy. Everyone from the band knew Wesker was hot whenever they liked it or not. You pinched your nipples as you focused on the idea of Wesker pumping his dick in you. Leon's hand rubbed his tip and moaned softly until his wrist moved up and down his shaft.

Luis rubbed his happy trail and slowly began and avoided his tip. His pre cum began to bubble from his tip. Even if Chris wasn't masturbating, he had Wesker in mind. Chris began to rubbed gently his thighs to raise himself to play the game. Next name.

"Jill Valentine?" Luis said in a questioning tone. Jill was more taboo than Wesker. They respected her.

You pumped the dildo slower for Jill. "Mm, Jill would be so nice..." The men agreed. Leon's butt clenched a bit; he groaned weakly, trying to catch his breath.

Next name. It was your turn but you were too focused on riding your toy. "Hey, your turn." Chris tried to be the bigger adult, but seeing your body squirm around your body. Your cunt clenching on the pink toy...

"Um," You were forced to think. You saw how your band members were just pumping their dicks, it made your stomach feel weak. Your eyes trailed down how Leon masturbated compared to Chris and Luis.

Chris did it as he made a mission. He wasn't completely relaxing as his hand pumped it over and over. His eyes were hazy. Luis was more loving in a way, his legs were wide and kept nothing hidden. His cock was red and needy, but he kept it more under control.

Leon was groaning and making more noise as he pumped his cock. "C'mon, hurry up..." He moaned.

"Leon..." You moaned back.

Your cheeks burned, but you looked at them. All of them needing them a bit more than expected. In a way, everyone knew the game was over as they stood up and crowded Anya. It wasn't the usually friendly stuff they did. It was focused around lust. Luis kept his cock close your face as he pumped it faster. Luis put gently his tip around your lips and traced them together. He hissed weakly before placing his hot cock inside your mouth.

Leon removed your toy from your cunt and got down his knees and saw his lead singer's wetness pour down. "Chris..." Leon's index finger traced down her pussy lips, Chris went down on his knees as well.

Your eyes wanted to look down, but Luis basically was thrusting his cock in your mouth. Chris and Leon opened your legs and went in. Chris kissed your thighs and Leon lick gave small little licks directly from the hole. Making sure to not make the hotel chair dirty. Well, that was his mind set around it. Leon's free hand was still pumping his cock. All Chris can do is see how they went at it.

Leon's tongue moved around your folds and your pretty hole. Collecting all it can. He grabbed your hips tightly, his hot breath against your cunt as his nose rubbed you. Your hand grabbed Leon's hair and tugged on it hard.

Leon whined softly. Luis didn't even focus at the men at your feet. He caressed your cheeks as you took him in.

Your drool traveled down your tits as you moaned like a pathetic toy. Luis slapped your tits and held them, "Fuck, fuck, si..." He grunted weakly.

Leon looked up at you and noticed all the wetness collecting on your pretty cunt. Chris groaned, "This sucks..." His eyes widen when he saw how Luis had you, "We need a better position." He whispered softly. Luis grinned, "Ye-yeah, I need to keep this mouth on my dick..." Leon pressed his nose on your clit before licking it again.

Luis pulled out. You coughed loudly, finally catching your breath. Chris needed to think fast.

Chris stood up and gently kissed your lips. "Can you handle it?" He whispered softly. Your eyes soften, "I can try." You didn't want neither of them left out. He smiled. Despite being the biggest of the three, he was gentle and knew his strength. Leon was accidentally too rough, he didn't mean to, but his strength came into place.

You were carefully placed on the bed into doggy. It felt embarrassing until you felt Chris slowly press his cock around your folds. In front of you, Luis and Leon's cocks were on your face. Luis caressed the top of your head, "Good thing we don't have a concert tomorrow, huh?" Leon smiled too, "We'll be gentle." You knew could trust your drummer and your base player.

Chris grabbed your hips and slowly began to thrust. He groaned weakly. He gently squeezed your butt. Luis and Leon gently shoved their cock into your mouth. They were expecting a blowjob. Just your mouth on them. You groaned softly when you felt Chris's fingertips hold your hip tightly. Luis groaned softly, "Leon, I think we have to handle it ourselves."

Leon whined softly. Luis kissed your lips, "When Chris is done, it'll be our turn." Luis sighed softly, "It's going to end up gay."

"Actually, like Marlon Brando," Leon said, "He slept with men and women to ease himself." Luis sighed softly, "I can't believe we are the same age."

Leon rolled his eyes until he felt Luis's lips on his. Chris thrusted deeper into you, pinning you as he pushed you arched back down. Chris groaned softly as his large arms held your waist. Chris kissed your cheek, his dick was slamming in and out of you. Luis and Leon were just happily making out on the bed in front of you. You gasped weakly once Chris rubbed your clit as he kept and kept going. Your squirmed a bit, kicking your feet a bit, "Chris!" You yelped loudly. Chris rubbed your clit faster, "Sa-save that voice."

You whined loudly, you couldn't take it anymore.

It was too simulating. Seeing Leon's and Luis's cock drag against each other. Bumping into each other. Chris's own cock pumping you, your kicked around, "Chris..." Chris grabbed you and sat you up. His hands grabbed your hips as he moved you up and down.

Leon and Luis were in their own heaven as they gently kissed. Luis' hand caressed Leon's hips and pulled him closer, Luis grabbed Leon's blond hair and pulled him close. Leon moaned softly, his eyes fluttered a bit trying to see Luis, but his mind was stuck on the kiss. Leon pumped their dicks together with the pace Chris had in you. Luis cursed weakly, his hips moved up a bit trying to feel more of Leon.

Your toes curled up, your back arched that specific way and it was takeaway on Chris's actions. Chris rubbed gently your stomach, "C'mon... Luis and Leon need you like I do..." Your eyes weakly looked at how their tips' pre-cum were sticking together. "Mm, need..." You whispered softly. You wanted to choke on them, but you weren't thinking clear and Chris knew so. "Later." His fingers rubbed your clit again, little by little it went faster and faster. Until you released. Your cunt clenched around Chris's cock and attempted to squeeze all of him, but Chris thought it double and wore a rubber. Even Luis and Leon made a mess on Luis's stomach, they all gasped for air for a bit.

You laid on the bed, and Chris held you from the back. Luis and Leon soon followed. Holding each other tightly to give comfort. Luis groaned softly, "So, now what? Is this part of our bonding now?" Guess the Beatles were kind of right.

[pianokantzart]

Seeing @keakruiser making AUs in a bullet point storytelling format inspired me to take a crack at my own AU that I've been thinking about for a bit. What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him? Essentially The Super Mario Bros Movie, but with the brothers' roles reversed. So, without further ado...

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 ________

The beginning is much the same as it was in the original Super Mario Bros. Movie until they are separated in the warp pipe, with two exceptions: 1. When their van breaks down, Luigi's first instinct is to take the tool kit and try to fix the motor (mechanic Luigi, my beloved). But before he can get a good look, Mario insists that there's not enough time, and heads to the job on foot. Luigi closes the hood of the van and follows him. 2. After Mario leaves the dinner table, the focus goes to Luigi's conversation with his dad rather than Mario holed up in his room.

"What did I say?" "''You're bringing your brother down with you'?" Luigi asks, finally able to get a word in now that his uncles have shut up. "Why would you say that?" "Luigi, be honest. How much did that commercial cost? How many new clients has it gotten you? Huh?" "It's only been a day! And Mario'll figure something out. He always does." Luigi insists, taking his brother's plate of pasta and picking it free of mushrooms. "I just want to help him out along the way."

Pio sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't hide in your brother's shadow your entire life, Luigi. One of these days you're gonna have to man up and start making your own decisions." Luigi doesn't answer, he simply finishes removing the mushrooms from Mario's plate, and gets up from the table to deliver the food to his despondent brother.

After Mario and Luigi attempt to save Brooklyn, after they end up in the warp zone, and after they are ripped from each-other's grasp, Mario is dragged into an unsettling looking pipe surrounded by purple smoke and overgrown with gnarled branches.

Luigi flies onward, emerging from a pipe inside what looks to be another sewer, not too different from the one back in New York. No sooner does he regain his senses does he find himself dragged away by a powerful blast of suction. Flying backwards through the air, he stops suddenly as his back clogs the nozzle of a strange vacuum-like contraption being carried by a little old man.

"Oops! Sorry, Sonny! I thought for certain you were gonna be a ghost!" the old man apologizes, releasing Luigi from the vacuum's suction with a flip of a switch. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small device that loosely resembles a hand-held vidoegame console, reexamining the numbers flashing on the screen. "When my readings showed that pipe 983 had suddenly reactivated, I thought for sure King Boo was trying to use it to send his band of ghosts to Sarasaland!"

Before Luigi could ask one of the thousands of questions on his mind, the old man introduces himself: Professor Elvin Gadd (E. Gadd for short.)

Luigi introduces himself in return, then asks about his brother. He tells the professor about their situation in detail, describing the warp pipe that Mario had disappeared into.

E. Gadd tsks sadly and shakes his head. He explains that particular pipe leads to "Evershade Valley," and though the valley used to be perfectly habitable, ever since King Boo shattered The Dark Moon nobody who has set foot in that land has ever returned.

"Wait, what do you mean? Who's King Boo?" Luigi asks "Well! You truly are out of the loop!" E-Gadd chuckles, "Then again... I remember how little I knew when I first arrived in this world." He continues to talk while leading Luigi through the underground, casually clearing a path for them with the powerful blowing and sucking functions of the vacuum. "King Boo is nothing less than the lord of ghosts! He is the master of illusions, the reigning tyrant of the undead, the loather of all living flesh, and– at the moment– the sole ruler of Evershade Valley."

This description unsettles Luigi. He retorts that if that's the case, he has to get to Evershade Valley as soon as possible. As frightened as he is, he's never been so frightened that he couldn't help his brother out of a tough spot, and he knows Mario would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

"Well! In that case I suggest you stick with me for a bit. And keep those tools with you." The old scientist gestures toward the tool bag Luigi had dropped on the ground in the mayhem, "I may have a few uses for them."

Just as Luigi comes to the question of where they are currently, Professor E. Gadd opens a sewer cover and leads him out into the middle of a big bustling coastal city in Sarasaland. Think the Daisy Circuit from Mario Kart, but way larger and more crowded (and missing the romantic statue of course.)

Luigi struggles to keep up with the elderly scientist, who weaves his way effortlessly through throngs of turtle men, snake monsters, insect soldiers, giant sentient heads made out of stone, and a vast array of other strange and fascinating pedestrians.

"Stop your dilly-dallying, youngster!" E. Gadd eventually calls, getting fed up with Luigi's slow, bewildered pace, "I've got a meeting in The Birabuto Kingdom, and my train– our train– leaves in fifteen minutes!" "Birabuto Kingdom?" Luigi asks, allowing himself to be shoved along, "What's that? What about Evershade Valley?" "So impatient! Do you think I'd send you into such a place unprepared??? No no, first I'm going to perfect my equipment, then I'll help you find your brother."

E. Gadd purchases their tickets and they board the crowded 64 Express. Once seated, Luigi's eyes are immediately drawn toward the window. He stares out, deep in anxious thought as the train chugs along, traveling from the coastal city into a desert landscape.

Then, we switch over to Mario. Standing up and dusting himself off, he looks around to find himself in the gloomiest place he'd ever seen... for the little he is able to see. There is a thick purple mist hanging in the air, and the path before him is shrouded in the branches of a forest long dead.

Loudly calling out his brother's name on the off-chance he was somewhere nearby, Mario follows a light in the distance until he stumbles across a lone boo. More confused than frightened, and feeling a little sorry for the white specter shyly covering its face, Mario bends down for a moment to examine it, assuring "hey, don't worry! I won't hurt you, I'm just a little lost is all."

Suddenly, he is ambushed by a colorful trio of ghosts: a greenie, a slammer, and a hider. He tries to fight back, but every time he attempts to shove them off or swing his fists he phases right through them.

His attackers knock him around a bit until Mario succeeds in slipping away. Now in a panic, he continues rushing toward the distant light, far faster and more recklessly than before.

Eventually, he gets close enough to discover the glow was coming from the lit windows of an old mansion. He enters and – for the little good it will do – shuts the door behind him.

He wanders the halls for a long time, roaming from room to empty room, all the while haunted by the shadow of something following him. Something big.

At last, he reaches a towering portrait room. Unlike the rest of the mansion it is teeming with life, full of frightened faces pressed against picture frames, begging for help.

Mario is frozen in a moment of fear and confusion, but quickly snaps out of it. He rushes to the nearest portrait– an image of a strange little mushroom man– to ask what is wrong and what he can do.

Before the toad can give a coherent answer, the eerie presence that Mario had felt when he first entered the mansion casts a looming shadow over him.

He turns around and raises his fists in helpless hopes of defending himself. The candles of the surrounding sconces go out all at once, and in the pitch black darkness a cacophony of cackles fills the air....

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A Halloween party where tensions rise and finally snap, and an unlucky encounter with the power to cancel out the happiness that comes out of it.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, drunken kissing, alcohol consumption, yandere behavior, misogyny, mention of murder.

— Notes: Hello, everybody! Welcome to chapter 4 (aka my favorite chapter in the series) <3 You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to post this one. Fun fact: the romantic scenes here were the first thing I planned for this story (added a serial killer and boom, Tunnel Vision was born). Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

can you feel my heart?

“I don't think this costume is original enough to place,” you mutter, smoothing out the skirt of your babydoll dress and shifting in your seat.

It's too cold to go out in minimal clothing, but you agreed to wear the dress for the sake of making the girls happy. Besides, you're supposed to match with Mikasa, who's sporting a red version of your dress so you can go as an angel and devil duo. It was her idea, so it saved you the hassle of coming up with your own costume while also filling you with reassurance from being well-liked.

“Well, we're not going for the costume contest. We're going to support Jean… and for drinks, of course,” Sasha prompts. 

“I still can't believe Jean is in a band. How did I not know this?”

“He's just filling in for the bassist tonight, but he's really good,” she explains. “He used to play in college.”

The Bobby pins in Sasha’s mouth mess with every other one of her words. You're sitting on the edge of Mikasa's bed as Sasha sits on her knees behind you, fixing your hair, while Mikasa is seated in front of you, doing your makeup.

It's not the most practical process, given that Sasha keeps moving your head around to do her job, earning annoyed looks from Mikasa as she struggles to finish applying your eyeshadow.

“Sasha, I love you to death, sweetie, but you're delaying my masterpiece,” Mikasa grumbles.

“Sorry,” Sasha sings. “I'm done now.” She climbs down from the bed and goes up front to admire her work.

“Ugh, you're so pretty,” she gushes, hands clasped together. You're not sure what Sasha is supposed to be. When she got to Mikasa's apartment, she said her costume was in her bag. For now, she's dressed in a black turtleneck top, black leggings, and red Converse. She squeals one last time before sitting down at Mikasa's vanity to fix her own makeup. 

“It feels a little weird,” you admit. “I'm, like, hyper-aware of how different I look.”

You like dressing up, looking sleek and polished. But the combination of the glitter sprinkled in your hair, the feathery halo headband on your head, and spaghetti straps step too far out of your usual fashion choices. It all leaves you feeling a bit vulnerable. 

Mikasa smiles.

“Don't sweat it. You look amazing.” 

The way she says it, so warmly and confidently, is comforting enough to pull a smile from you. You've never had a sister, but if you did, you imagined someone like Mikasa would be perfect.

“I know for sure one guy won't keep his eyes off of you tonight.”

Her words throw you off guard. Your lips fall open, ready to ask questions, or throw an excuse, or change the subject. But nothing comes to you, so you end up just staring at her in shock as you feel yourself build up a sweat.

She giggles as she makes the last finishing touches on your face.

The doorbell rings.

“Sash, get the door, please?” she asks as she walks to her vanity and starts rummaging through her makeup drawer in search of the perfect shade of lipstick to tie the look together.

“On it.” Sasha promptly stands, gives herself one last look in the mirror, and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Eagerly, she unlocks the front door and swings it open, only to instantly drop her smile for confusion when she takes in all four men lined before her.

“What are you supposed to be? A bunch of beat-up accountants?”

“Hey,” Armin whines.

Jean, Armin, Connie, and Eren are all wearing suits stained with fake blood. Minus the bass case slung on Jean's shoulder, which likely isn't part of his costume, there aren't many more hints to go off of.

Jean scoffs as he hooks his thumbs around his suspenders.

“Um… Reservoir Dogs? Hello?” 

“I've never heard of it,” she deadpans. She turns on her heel and goes to the sofa where she left her bag earlier, leaving the door wide open for everyone to follow inside.

“You cannot be serious, Sasha. It's Quentin Tarantino!”

“Ew, the foot fetishist?” Her face contorts in disgust.

Eren throws his head back in laughter. 

Jean throws his hands up in the air. 

“Oh, that you know.”

Sasha shrugs, not caring one bit about Jean's frustration.

“Connie, help me get this thing on,” she says, smoothing out her costume on the sofa. It's a hot dog.

The rest of the guys watch amusedly as the pair struggle to get Sasha into her costume. When her head finally pokes through, strands from her ponytail have come loose and she's gasping for air.

“Oh, man. They should add a zipper to these things,” she huffs.

Armin leans closer, his eye catching a flicker of silver movement on the side of the costume. His fingers hold onto the zipper as he looks up at Sasha with pursed lips.

Jean scoffs incredulously. 

“It has a zipper, you big dummy. I swear–”

He and Sasha lose themselves in a wave of bickering. That is until Eren clears his throat. He's been looking for signs of more people around the apartment, glancing at the kitchen or through the open crack of the bathroom door.

“Where's… everyone else?” he asks nobody in particular.

Jean abandons his play fight with Sasha to smirk at Eren. 

“Excited to see your girlfriend, Jaeger?”

Eren freezes, instantly taken aback by Jean's accusation. Everyone else exchanges shocked glances with each other, before ultimately landing their focus on Eren to gauge his reaction.

But he doesn't even move. All he does is look at the floor, cheeks red, and lips curled inwards as he struggles for a comeback.

Sasha’s the first to move. Her palm lands with a reprimanding force against Jean's head, who whines in protest.

“Oh, come on! We've all seen the way he looks at her.” He turns to Eren. “Why don't you just ask her out?”

Armin's quick to intervene.

“Jean, I don't think it's our place to say anything. I'm sure if Eren wants to, he will. It's none of our business.”

“I'm just saying… we all know you like her, you've got our support, Jaeger.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek. When he finally speaks, his voice is practically a ghost of itself.

“We're just friends.” 

“And you're okay with that?”

Jean's question burns at Eren's cheeks. But before anything else can be said or done in his defense, Mikasa's bedroom door cracks open and the raven-haired girl's head pops out. Sasha instinctively shoots a warning glare at everyone to be quiet.

“Sorry for the wait, everybody.” Mikasa grins as she opens the door wider and steps out into the living room. “We're ready now.”

Eren waits with bated breath for you to come out. It seems like an eternity between the moment Mikasa moves aside and when you finally reveal yourself in a flowy white dress and a halo bouncing above your head. 

A soft ‘woah’ escapes him as he feels the usual flutter in his stomach he's been doing so good to ignore. 

Jean whistles in approval and all the other guys proceed to shower you with compliments. Your gaze bounces from face to face, flustered from all the attention, ultimately meeting with Eren, who keeps his distance from across the room.

It's been a couple of weeks since you last saw each other. It's been the same number of days since you realized why that flutter in your stomach came to be. It's no surprise to you when it happens now, along with a warm pressure in your chest when his lips curve into a shy smile. For a moment, it's just you and him.

The magic cuts off and scatters over the floor in imaginary golden dust when Connie announces the arrival of your ride to the bar. 

Everyone starts making their way out the door.

A heavy hand lands on Eren’s shoulder. Jean's voice murmurs the words ‘good luck’ in his ear before walking away.

Eren stands in place, watching as you close the distance between you with just a few steps.

“Hey.”

It might be Eren's imagination, warping his surroundings to further feed into the concept behind your costume, but he truly can't deny how breathtaking and radiant you look. It's like a vision from dreams he'll forever be too embarrassed to confess to. He can barely cough up a strangled ‘hi’ back.

You walk side by side until you reach the car. The entire time, Eren's careful not to brush against you, scared it might trigger his nerves and he won't be able to hide it. But once you're in the car, it's hard to avoid any physical contact, given that three of you are squished together in the back with Jean's bass. 

The entire ride is clouded with hyper-awareness of every accidental touch between you and Eren, hushed apologies for bumping knees, and trying to remain unfazed by each other's warmth as you draw closer to your destination — you're much better at it than he is.

The scent of your perfume is heavenly, the soft, mellow notes intoxicating Eren to the sweetest high. 

By the time you get to the bar, there's already a small crowd of people waiting for their turn to be let inside. In one swift glance, you make out several witch hats, vampire fangs, kitten ears, fairy wings, and much more.

A large banner that takes up the width of the entrance announces their Halloween weekend event in bursts of purple and silver tones.

Thanks to a laminated pass Jean digs from his pocket, the whole group gets to skip the line and are ushered inside right away. A staff member calls Jean aside to lead him to a greenroom in the back where the other band members are.

“I'll see you guys in a bit,” Jean calls over his shoulder, offering a salute before getting lost in the shadows.

“Let's find a booth before more people come in,” Mikasa suggests.

As you all follow her lead to an open spot, your eyes roam around, taking in the details of the place. It's a fairly large venue, the booths lined in an L shape against the left wall, and several round tables spread out before them until the open floor for crowds to gather in front of the stage. To the right, a dimly lit bar occupies nearly the whole length of the wall, with shelves upon shelves of liquor and glasses. Looking up, you have a view of the balcony contained by silver railings decorated in decorative skulls and purple tinsel, where more tables and booths line the four walls and large lamps hang from the high ceiling.

You shrug your jacket off your shoulders as you settle into the booth Mikasa chooses. It's center to the stage with a perfect view of every corner of the venue's bottom floor. Mikasa slides in at your right, Eren to your left, and Armin at the end.

“I'm gonna get us some drinks,” Connie offers, as he leans with his phone to scan the code for the menu taped to the table. 

“Gin and tonic, for me,” Armin says, not bothering to scroll further down the menu.

“Ooh,” Mikasa zooms in on an item on her screen.

“Long Island?” Connie grins, spotting the same name on his phone.

“Yup,” she replies.

“A cosmo for me, please,” you say, setting down your phone on the table. 

Connie shoots finger guns at you and clicks his tongue.

“You got it. Gin and tonic, Long Island, Cosmo…” He points to each of you as he recites your orders. “Eren? Vodka cranberry?”

Eren nods shyly.

“Yeah.” 

Connie recites your orders one last time before heading off to the bar, Sasha trails behind him to help carry the drinks back.

“What time is Jean supposed to come out again?” you ask.

“He's in the second band. I think around ten-ish?” Armin replies as he confirms the time on the flyer Jean sent into the group chat. 

“God, he's gonna be insufferable when he gets back,” Eren groans. Armin nods along, and Mikasa simply laughs.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“He's always so cocky after playing,” Eren explains. “When we were in college he had a ton of girls fawning all over him just because he was in a band, and it gave him an even bigger head.”

“Well, to be fair, he never acted like a jerk,” Armin argues. “He just liked the attention.”

“That's because he thought it'd make Mikasa jealous,” Eren scoffs.

Your head is whirling in every direction as you receive every new piece of information.

“I mean, it worked,” Mikasa counters with a shrug. 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Not once did it ever seem to you that anything was going on between Mikasa and Jean.

“You're dating Jean?” you express with shock laced through your tone.

She laughs.

“Someone has to take one for the team,” she jokes. “I kid, it's been great.”

Before you can ask how long they've been together, her phone starts buzzing on the table.

“Speak of the devil,” she grins, eyes skimming the text on her phone before she slides out of the booth. “I'll be back in a bit.” 

With a cheeky wink tossed over her shoulder, she's off. 

“I can't believe I never noticed Jean and Mikasa are together,” you say as you watch her scurry off into the backroom.

“They're pretty lowkey,” Eren replies with a shrug. “But I don't blame her. I'd be embarrassed if I were dating Jean, too,”

You laugh. 

“Come on, don't be mean,” Armin says, nudging his friend with his shoulder. He then turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “He acts like he hates him, but he actually helped Jean out when he asked Mikasa to be his girlfriend.”

“All I did was blow up balloons and buy flowers,” Eren huffs, embarrassed that his affection for Jean is out in the open.

“A little help, please,” a strained voice calls from a few feet away. 

It's Sasha. She's slowly walking toward the booth with her hands contorted at odd angles to balance four drinks in her hold. You all stand to relieve her from one drink each.

As soon as you settle into the booth again, Connie makes his way back, balancing a wooden bowl on top of everything.

“I got us some peanuts,” he grins, carefully setting everything down on the table. You all pass around each other's drink and take your first sips.

“Where's Mika?” Sasha asks, popping a peanut into her mouth. 

“Making out with Jean, I bet,” Connie jests.

“You're not wrong,” Armin sings.

You're interrupted by a brief sound of feedback screeching through the speakers, followed by a tap on the microphone at the center of the stage. The first band introduces themselves and begins to play. Every song gradually builds up the energy of the crowd which starts to gather to dance and sway to the music. It's loud enough to keep everyone nodding their head along to the beat but low enough to still have a conversation where one doesn't need to yell to be heard.

The peanut bowl is refilled and a second round of drinks is soon brought to the table, courtesy of Connie's credit card.

He and Sasha are the first to stray from the group to check out the band up close, just moments before Mikasa finds her way back. 

She's got a giddy air about her, and the artificial red of her lips is replaced by a more natural one.

When she asks for the missing pair, the three of you that remain nod toward the crowd, where you can easily spot Sasha’s hot dog costume bopping around to the music.

Mikasa laughs at the scene in between long sips of her Long Island. The two of you engage in a mushy conversation about her timeline with Jean. By the time she's halfway through her second Long Island, she's a giggling and blushing mess.

“I was right, you know?” she smiles as she affectionately strokes your head.

“About what?” You can't help but feel amused by her behavior, her enthusiasm is contagious. It pulls upwards at the corners of your lips. 

“Eren hasn't stopped looking at you.” 

Though tipsy, she's still grounded enough to speak lowly and close to your ear — you're grateful for her consideration. Otherwise, it would make the situation a lot more embarrassing. 

You don't have the guts to look back to verify for yourself, but Eren's track record makes it believable. Even so, you've glanced at Eren a couple of times during the night, only to find his gaze already set on you. He hasn't shied away as much tonight — a likely effect on his courage from the drinks he's had, or maybe because his instincts are dulled by the liquor. He still blushes like crazy, though. It's driving the butterflies in your stomach mad. Mikasa's notice only makes everything more real. It's a reminder that the world surrounding you and Eren doesn't disappear each time your eyes meet. 

“I'm gonna try to get a good spot before Jean comes out,” she says in a slightly louder voice. She stands from the booth and holds a hand out to Armin, gesturing for him to come with her. 

Quizzically, Armin allows himself to be pulled from his seat by her but then looks back with a mischievous grin spread across his face when Mikasa speaks something in his ear.

They both leave, and it's just you and Eren alone at the booth. You haven't been drinking much, just enough to feel a soft buzz in your muscles. But the sudden tension builds up a fever in your system. 

You glance back at Eren. He's laying back into the cushioned seat, legs spread, tie loosened, and eyes zeroed in on the glass nursed in his large, veiny hands. When his emerald irises look up at you through his lashes, his lips slowly part as if he's about to say something — or to suck in a breath — and finally press together in a lopsided smile.

Mirroring his expression, you scoot closer to him to close the distance that's been growing without intention as you lost yourselves in separate conversations throughout the night. 

“You know, you look good in a suit,” you say, allowing your back to fall into the cushioned seat. You lean your head back, angling it so that you have a good view of his face.

“Yeah? You think?” He mirrors your actions and allows his head to rest next to yours. It's a safe distance, yet your perfume still circles around him, getting him a different kind of drunk. Albeit, you can say the same thing about his cologne. 

“It's a big change from your usual t-shirt and jeans get-up.” 

“But still the good kind, right?” 

Your eyes wander over the glassiness hovering over his eyes, to the messy strands of hair that poke about on his head from combing through it with his hands so much, to his plump lips glossed over with saliva from his last sip of watered-down cranberry vodka to the two unmade buttons on his bloodstained shirt. 

“Absolutely,” you murmur, lips curved softly.

He bites back a smile, eyes darting to the side to seem nonchalant. Your gaze flits to the movement, taking in the way his teeth dig into the plumpness of his bottom lip. 

“So was the whole angel thing your idea?” he asks, hand motioning in your direction.

“It was Mikasa,” you murmur. “She got the first pick so I was pretty much cornered.” 

Pursing his lips, he nods.

“I don't think it suits me, though. I feel out of place.”

“Ah, because you're the devil incarnate?” He quirks a teasing eyebrow, causing a laugh to sputter from your lips. “I'm surprised this thing isn't burning a hole into your head.” He flicks the feathered halo, causing it to bobble. 

“Does it make me look silly?”

He fakes a long moment of contemplation. 

“No,” he finalizes. His voice grows lower, gentler. “It makes you look cute.” 

You cringe.

“Ah… so without it I look…”

He laughs. 

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant!” 

He runs a hand through his face. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or you that has him blushing profusely. 

“You’re still pretty without it. I’m just having an easier time talking to you when you’re wearing… this.” 

The irony of his nervous hand gestures and the cracks in his voice isn’t lost on you. Your eyes twinkle with amusement as he straightens his posture but continues to stumble over his words. 

“Not that it’s hard to talk to you. You’re not scary or anything! I mean, you can be a little intimidating but that’s only at the beginning! You just—”

He heavily sighs as he falls back into his seat again.

“You look cute right now, that's all. But you're always pretty.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just… I still get nervous around you,” he softly laughs. 

His admission can only be attributed to how foreign everything feels in his hazy state. It’s as if he can’t stop himself from spouting whatever comes to mind — no premeditation, no reason. He’s fully aware of what’s going on, but it’s easier to hide behind too many highballs as an excuse. This moment is what makes him finally understand what people mean when they refer to liquid courage. 

“I know.”

Your words knock the air out of his lungs. He already knows you know. How can you not if he’s been so blatantly obvious in his perception of you from the start? Still, it’s different when you openly acknowledge it. It breaks the barrier of politely feigned ignorance and makes everything much more real. And yet he held this microscopic hope this whole time that his date proposal is nothing but ancient history and his behavior toward you could’ve passed as ordinary shyness. 

Guilt starts pooling in his stomach. That feeling of rejection starts bubbling in his chest without warning. He doesn’t even register the affectionate way you gaze at him, glossy lips shaped into a gentle smile, as your eyebrows upturn in sympathy. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He keeps his head low, afraid he might’ve just set himself up for failure yet again. But you shake your head.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur. “It’s cute.”

The world falls silent. It’s either that or the first band of the night is done playing and the following act has yet to come on stage — Eren can’t tell the difference. He turns to you, all too used by now to face you with reddened cheeks and wide eyes. 

There’s a soft smile playing on your lips as you stare down at your lap, where your fidgeting hands rest. He averts his gaze, facing forward to spare his mind a moment to clear itself of any silly assumptions. His lips curl inwards — a habit for when he’s unsure of what to say. But when he looks back at you seconds later, you’re already looking at him — glossy lips parted and that glassiness to your eyes that makes his heart flutter.

Eren knows better than to think your gaze flickers to his lips. There’s no other explanation than it being a trick of his mind, right? And yet his tongue darts out instinctively, coating his lips with saliva, as his breaths grow shallow.

In one swift motion, your fingers wrap around his loosened tie to pull him closer as you lean forward to meet him halfway. There’s a brief pause just a hair away from your mouths colliding — a moment for him to process that this is truly happening and for you to wind up more courage — where your breaths swirl together before they’re absorbed by the other. Your lips meld perfectly into each other in one warm, cranberry-flavored kiss. You kiss once, twice, three times, and then once more. Each sweet contact brings you closer together, makes your heads grow dizzier and your chests to be relieved from their previous tension. 

Eren’s hands grip the edge of his seat, nails digging into the leather as if to keep himself tethered to this dimension. Each time your lips slot into his intoxicates him several times more than any liquor can. For weeks he’s wondered what it would be like to kiss you, and now that it’s happening, he’s scared for the moment to ever stop, afraid that no matter how hard he tries to convince himself, it’ll lose its quality to be real, and he’ll be left to wonder if it truly happened.

You’re the first to pull back, slowly and carefully, like you fear he might fall apart if you move too fast — and he just might. 

As you catch your breath, faces still inches away from each other, the world slowly comes back. The music crescendos along with the collective buzz of scattered conversations and clinking glasses. Your eyes flutter open, slowly taking in the shiny emerald gaze and dilated pupils that look down at you, mesmerized.

An energetic voice calls your name from a few feet away. To Eren’s dismay, your hand loses its grip on his tie, falling to your lap as you tear your gaze from him to watch Sasha clumsily make her way to the booth. 

“Come on, Jean’s band is starting!”

She pulls you from your seat, urging you to follow her. Flustered, you slide out of the booth and allow her to drag you away, but not before looking back at a still dumbfounded Eren and saying “I’ll be right back.”

Eren watches you leave, the disappointment gradually settling into the deepest parts of him. He brings a hand to his lips to gently trace the place where you marked him with the pads of his fingers. He can still feel the plush of your lips against his. If he closes his eyes, he can conjure the moment again and replay it in his mind. The scent of your perfume lingers and it suddenly doesn’t seem like such a wild idea that he can deeply miss someone who’s only wandered a few feet from him.

“Okay, I had to get out of there. The girls are getting rowdy.”

Armin’s voice pulls Eren from his daze. He laughs as he slides into the booth next to his best friend. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, making note of Eren’s flustered state.

Eren turns his gaze to the cluster of empty glasses on the table. 

“We kissed,” he murmurs, a red tint pooling his cheeks.

Armin’s face goes through a myriad of emotions. His features contort from confusion to realization, to shock, and excitement. 

“Are you serious?” he yells enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear at the news. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” 

He gleefully drums his palms on Eren’s back, slipping in a few teasing punches to his arm.

“I fucking knew it, I frickin’ called it. I’m literally Cupid!”

Eren finally laughs, raising a hand to comb nervously through his hair.

“So what happens next?” Armin asks, shuffling to find a cozy angle to hound his friend.

Eren shakes his head, still hesitant to accept his new reality. It’s starting to look foreign to him and he’d hate to think the kiss was just a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.

“I don’t know. What do I do, Armin?”

The panic on his face causes Armin to soften with sympathy.

“What do you wanna do?” he murmurs.

A soft laugh pushes past Eren’s lips.

“I wanna kiss her again.”

Armin scrunches his nose, but he can’t help but grin at Eren’s bashful confession and his adorable demeanor.

“Well, she’s right over there.”

He juts his chin in the direction of the crowd in front of the stage. 

Eren presses a fist to his mouth. His cheeks are still burning and his heart has yet to fully calm down from the erratic rhythm your sudden kiss provoked.

“I think I still need a minute to recover,” he murmurs.

You didn’t make it back to the booth as soon as Eren and you hoped. When you did, there was usually another person or two coming back to catch their breath, leaving you no privacy to talk about what needed to be talked about. Eren had a turn to be dragged away to watch Jean’s performance. After everyone was back at the booth, you volunteered to get Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie — the drunkest of your group — water to rehydrate. The entire time it seemed to Eren like his luck had run out for a second chance to be alone. 

You make your way to the bar, navigating between people sober and drunk just the same. A few minutes go by before you’re finally at the front of the line. 

“Three waters, please,” you say, holding up the same amount of fingers to the bartender. 

He promptly slides three bottles over the bar, a flirty grin on his face.

“Here you go, angel.”

When you don’t give him a reaction outside of politely nodding and thanking him while offering your card to pay, he kills off his coy demeanor. You start to make your way back to the booth, going over the exchange in your head and feeling awkward about it. You’re sure bartenders can act a bit friendly with patrons —  it’s part of the experience — but you’re not big on acting overly friendly with strangers. 

A tall, muscular figure bumps into you, causing your body to stumble back and your hands to lose their hold on the bottles. You glance up, ready to apologize before you can even collect your things, but you’re met with a pair of concerned eyes. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

He crouches down to retrieve the dropped bottles for you. When he stands again, he smiles at you warmly. 

“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Again, I apologize.”

His polite manner seems sincere — certainly not like the kind other men have shown you.

For a moment, it seems like he hopes to hold a conversation with you. From the booth claimed by your group, a pair of stern emerald eyes watches the scene carefully, the owner ready to intervene against the man with his back to him. But the stranger’s chances of holding you up any longer are interrupted by a pretty girl calling his name — a name you don’t bother to register — from a few feet away as she stumbles her way to him. You catch a falter in his demeanor that goes as quickly as it arrives — though much too fast for you to get a hint of the emotion behind it. 

Before you can be witness to any foreign business, you murmur your own apology and thank him for his help before turning on your heel and continuing to where your friends are. 

“Sash, you don’t need two rides. I already told you, you and Connie live in the same apartment.” 

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. For the past ten minutes, he’s been trying to convince a still lightly buzzed Sasha that it doesn’t make sense for her and Connie to take separate rides. In her haze, she argued that it was completely reasonable for her to book a ride for herself and then book a second one for Connie once she made it to their apartment.

“Jean, you think you can go with them and make sure they get home safely?” 

Armin puts on his best pleading look for him. Jean clicks his tongue in aversion.

“No can do. I gotta take care of my girl.” He nods over to the bench outside of the bar where Mikasa is curled up in a way that should be uncomfortable but makes her look rather peaceful as she dozes off in fragments. 

Armin purses his lips, hands on his hips. 

“You know what? I give up, I’ll take them,” Armin huffs as he swipes Sasha’s phone from her hands and waits to be matched to a ride. He turns to you. “Oh, but we were supposed to ride together.”

You dismiss his offer with a wave of your hand. 

“I’m really not that tipsy. I can ride alone.” 

“You sure?” Armin’s eyebrows upturn in worry.

Eren raises his hand, a meek look on his face.

“I can make sure she gets home okay.”

“Don’t you live in opposite directions?” Jean smirks, as he hoists Mikasa up by her waist to prepare for their ride’s arrival.

Armin shoots him a warning glare over his shoulder. 

Jean clicks his tongue and theatrically smacks his forehead.

“Ah, no you don’t, silly me. I’m so out of it tonight.”

Ignoring Jean’s poor acting, you turn to Eren.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I want to,” he murmurs gently.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. 

He whips out his phone to find a ride and minutes later, you all head your separate ways.

The ride to your apartment building is quiet, save for the low music playing on the radio. Eren can’t keep himself from stealing glances at your side profile from the corner of his eye, and you can feel the burn in your cheeks as you stare out the window.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, finally fed up with the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he’s been fighting for a chance to talk to you since the kiss and this is a very brief opportunity, perhaps not to address what happened, but maybe just to get a feel for where you stand after the fact.

But you don’t seem up for a lengthy conversation, as you barely look back at him when you nod and reply with a solemn “I did”. 

He shrinks into his seat, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to find a different tactic to get you to look at him. But again, his luck seems to have run out, as you hit every green light on the way to your apartment. Sooner than he would’ve liked, the car comes to a halt in front of the brick building.

In a desperate attempt to collect a couple more minutes with you, he climbs out of the car with you. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he says. You just nod and turn to lead the way. 

There’s a hint of tension as you ride the elevator to the third floor. There’s something awkwardly polite about the strict distance you maintain until the elevator dings and you step into the hallway.

The silence between you has never felt so dreadful to Eren now that there’s something he so badly wants to talk about. But how does one bring up a surprise kiss if not right after it happened? By now it seems too embarrassing to suggest for conversation, even if it did happen less than two hours ago. The moment has passed, and if you don’t seem willing to talk, maybe it’s because you’re hoping to leave it in the past. 

You stop in front of your apartment door, number 307, and fish around your purse for your keys. Eren steps back in preparation to bid you goodbye as soon as the lock clicks open. 

“I’ll see you a—”

“Do you want some tea?” 

The question tumbles so quickly from your lips that he almost doesn’t comprehend it.

He blinks at you in surprise. A flutter stirs in his stomach at the idea of entering your apartment — your personal space. He doesn’t even think Armin has been inside before. It’s exciting. There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. They shine differently now — with hope.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and clears his throat, nodding fervently.

“Yeah, tea… tea sounds incredible right now.”

You release a breath of relief and push open the door, welcoming him to your corner of the world.

A flick of a switch bathes the area in bright, warm light. Eren soaks up every detail of your home, not wanting to miss a single thing. There’s a bookshelf overflowing with hardcovers and paperbacks, a collection too big for its modest size that you’ve opted for stacking anything that couldn’t fit on the floor beside it. A handmade blanket in warm colors is thrown over the loveseat fixed in front of the TV. Everything is colored in joyful pastel hues with a few more vibrant splashes from vases with flowers and some ceramic figurines scattered along the windowsill and the furniture — a stark contrast to your mostly neutral wardrobe. It’s all neatly put together save for a single forgotten book left at a careless angle on the coffee table — likely to be your current read — and a faint cinnamon scent wafts in the air, the probable work of a candle or an infuser somewhere. There are three more doors he assumes lead to your bedroom, the bathroom, and perhaps a storage closet.  

You toss your purse, headband, and coat onto the sofa and make your way across the open space to the kitchen, turning back to ask him to follow with an inviting look.

You move in silence to fill a pink tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. Your hands rummage through your pantry to find a pair of teabags to set aside while you wait for the kettle to whistle. 

“Your place is really nice,” Eren murmurs as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. “It’s very… colorful.”

The corners of your lips tug into an awkward smile.

“Does it not suit me?”

He chuckles softly, bringing a fist up to cover his amusement.

“No, it does,” he says, looking around once more. “It’s a nice surprise, to be honest.”

Your lips curl inwards as you nod. 

An easy silence blankets the room until the kettle signals the water’s ready. 

Eren stands to help you. 

“Where do you keep your mugs?”

You point to the cupboard next to his head as you grab a tea towel to wrap around the kettle.

He sets two mugs on the counter next to the stove — a yellow one for you, a blue one for him — and starts wandering around in search of something.

“You want sugar, right?” he asks, going through his memory of the time you met at the coffee shop. 

He spots a set of green ceramic containers on the counter and starts reaching for them until your voice interrupts him. 

“Actually, I'll have it with honey. It’s over there.”

You point him to the pantry where you took the tea bags from.  

A proud grin takes over his face as he strides over.

“I see I've spread the honey gospel.” 

You smile.

“Not really,” you murmur. “I use honey all the time. That day we met at the coffee shop was just an exception.”

He pouts.

“Why the sudden change back then?” he asks.

You shrug as you transport the mugs to the bar and fetch a honey wand from a drawer.

“Some stupid reason. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Eren’s brow furrows in confusion, but he doesn’t press any further. You take a seat next to each other and take turns with the honey wand before your first careful sip of tea. 

A fuzzy feeling swells in his chest when Eren looks over at you. The domesticity of the situation has him biting back a smile. He loses himself in your image for a moment. the way your hands nurse the mug as you blow at your tea, and the sheen left on your lips after you take a sip. Maybe this — being welcomed into your home and sitting beside each other while you share tea — is all he needs to gain some clarity on where your head is at. 

He takes another sip and sets his mug down, the heat threatening his pain tolerance in his hands.

“So, you live alone?” he asks.

You nod. 

“Yeah, I’m kind of a lone wolf.” You pause and start smiling. “I might be growing out of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

A few seconds tick by as you ponder for an answer.

“I’ve never had this many friends before. I just keep to myself, usually, and that's worked great my whole life. But now I’m really happy to have met everybody.” You smile. “I’m having a lot of fun being surrounded by more people now. I can feel myself becoming a different person.”

He mirrors your expression as he returns his gaze to his tea. Your words tug at his heartstrings. Frankly, he couldn’t be any happier to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I also told a guy I wasn’t into dating, but now I’m hoping he didn’t take it to heart.”

Your words echo in Eren’s head as he turns to look at you with hopeful eyes.

“Me?”

The question has him feeling stupid, but he has to know you aren’t talking about someone else, that it can only be him. 

Your timid gaze has his chest pounding furiously against his ribs. It’s not until you nod that he finally releases the breath that was caught in his throat.

“I thought that— You said you didn’t see me that way.”

Your expression softens.

“You kind of grew on me,” you murmur, looking down at the remaining tea in your mug as your cheeks warm with shyness.

Eren watches you in awe as you bite down on your bottom lip, too focused on the yellow mug to even notice his shaking hands and burning cheeks.  

The following seconds pass by in slow motion. Eren’s warm hands wrap around your face, demanding your attention as he closes the gap between you. Like you at the bar, he spares a split second for you to realize what’s happening before slotting his lips against yours. You sigh into his mouth as an instant fever courses through your body. 

His strong hands pull you closer in his desperate need to devour you. It’s all much more real now. Now he knows how you feel, and you’ve known how he’s felt about you this entire time so all that’s left to do is act on it. 

One of his hands drops its firm caress on your face to pull you from your seat by the waist and settle you on his lap. He presses you into his chest, relishing in the soft moans you pour into his mouth. 

It’s a moment that he’s sure will be etched in his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart thumps erratically, threatening to break free from its cage. Your breathing has grown shallow and eyebrows upturned in desperation as you cling onto his shirt. His cologne travels to your nose, enveloping you in a comforting embrace as the hand he has pressed against the small of your back pushes you closer to him with every wanton kiss.

You pull back abruptly, breathless, chest heaving, and eyebrows knit together as you swallow thickly.

“You okay?” Eren asks, equally short of breath.

You nod. 

“I just— I keep forgetting to breathe… and it feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.”

You look down at him with distress painted across your features.

“I'm sorry.”

For the second time since Eren met you, you look so small and fragile even if your compromising position has him tilting his face up to look at you. 

“You're joking, right?” he murmurs.

With a tremor still consuming his bones, he peels your right hand from his shirt and slides it down his chest, resting it right above his heart. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, watching you closely to see if you understand his message and the effect you have on him — he’s right there with you. 

The erratic beat of his heart thumps against your palm. You stare at your linked hands, completely mesmerized by how perfectly your hand fits in his and how ardently his heart beats for you. 

A soft laugh travels past your lips as you find relief in Eren’s matching anxiety. 

Without removing your hand from where he’s pressed it, you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

You stay there for as long as it takes for your breathing to steady and your heartbeats to sync to a peaceful rhythm.

“I got scared when you barely talked to me on the way here.” 

The vibrations of his voice are a comforting sensation; if you could snuggle further into his chest, you would.  

“I thought you were regretting what happened at the bar.”

Your breath tickles his neck when you laugh.

“I just didn’t want to talk in front of our driver.”

It’s his turn to laugh and if you could capture the sound in a bottle to cherish forever, you would.

“I have a question.”

You hum in encouragement, feeling yourself grow sleepy in his embrace. 

“If I ask you out on a date right now, will you say yes this time?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to check my planner; now that I'm open to dating I’ll be pretty busy.”

You can’t tell from your angle, but you can hear the amused grin in his voice when he talks again.

“Ah, right, of course. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself all over again,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

Neither of you makes a move to separate from each other. His thumb makes soft strokes against the back of your hand.

“I really like you,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you murmur back. “I really like you, too.”

“Did I tell you how pretty you look dressed like an angel?”

You straighten your posture but remain on his lap.

“Not once the entire night. I'm actually kind of disappointed,” you joke.

He stifles a laugh.

“The things you do to me, I swear,” he whispers as you lean forward, brushing your noses together. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. I felt like I was losing my mind.”

He leans closer, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly before pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your phone buzzes from inside your bag on the sofa.

“You think it’s an emergency?” he whispers against your lips.

“Not likely,” you whisper back before returning his kiss.

You’re fully prepared to ignore whoever is on the other end, but the buzzing refuses to cease, so you ultimately stand to answer the call, though with much reluctance.

“Hey, Armin.”

Eren brings a fist to his mouth, mentally cursing at his best friend for interrupting such a tender moment.

“Yeah, I made it home safe… Eren? Oh, um…”

You turn to Eren for a sign of what to say. You’ve never been in this situation before, so you’re unsure of what to do. 

Eren mouths a response you struggle to understand.

“He’s… he’s still here.”

Eren’s jaw drops. You shrug innocently.

“Yeah… he’s on his way out though. We just had tea… Oh god, Armin.”

Eren watches your flustered demeanor closely, trying to make sense of the buzzing that reaches his ears from your phone — he deciphers nothing.

“Well, you can come over next time… okay… bye.”

You hang up.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. Just something about never getting to see my apartment,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

He laughs as he makes his way over to you.

“He’s definitely gonna hound me later for this,” he groans, rubbing his hands down his face. 

He rolls his shoulders back as he catches a glimpse of the time from the clock on your wall. “Oh, man, I really should be heading out, though.”

“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” you offer, already leading the way to the door.

The two of you walk side by side, now close enough for your shoulders to occasionally brush against each other. You exchange secretive glances along the way, biting down on smiles as you recall the events of the night.

When Eren steps into the elevator, you wave him goodbye. A second before the doors close, his hand shoots out to keep them open.

Your eyebrows rise in question.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Or, I guess, later.”

He watches your lips part and eyes wander in confusion.

“For what?”

“Our first date,” he grins. “Or is it too soon?”

A pleasant warmth tingles in your stomach as you try your best to contain your smile, but the excitement in your eyes shimmers brightly for him.

“No,” you say. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

His lips curl inwards to keep himself from grinning harder. He nods.

“I’ll pick you up for lunch, then? Two o’clock.”

You smile and nod. He smiles back.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eren.”

October 27, 2024

There’s nothing I hate more than loose women. They’re the worst. Always throwing themselves onto men and desperately groveling for attention. That’s why I had to kill this one. Disgusting little whore wouldn’t quit following me around the bar the whole night. 

But the good news is, I met a girl tonight. An angel. She was a vision from my purest dreams dressed in white with a halo on her head, smiling and laughing with her sloppy drunken friends. But she’s different from them, I can tell. If she could just smile at me the same way she smiled at him, maybe then I’ll be satisfied. If I could just have her smile at me every day, I’d be so happy. I'll do anything to have that look of adoration directed at me.

I wasn’t even looking to fall in love tonight and yet there she was. It has to be fate.

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taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop

[multicohn]

summary: knowing that her groups disbandment is right around the corner, y/n finally confesses to her long time friend and crush knowing that she'll probably never see him again

warnings: none

pairing: fem! idol! reader x park jeongwoo

genre: idol au, hurt / no comfort?

author note: i could’ve written more, but i didn’t know where to leave it, so if you feel it’s incomplete then that’s why

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n wasn’t sure when her feelings for jeongwoo turned from platonic to romantic, but she knew that hiding them and pretending that they are nothing more than just friends would be better for both of their careers.

however…

“you’s will be disbanding shortly after y/n’s graduation”

y/n didn’t understand.

why were they disbanding? their sales are good enough to keep them a float and the members are slowly warming up to each other —

“we’re facing personal problems right now so we can not guarantee your future. sorry girls”

his voice echoed in her head as she got ready. instead of excitement, there was only a sense of emptiness and dread within her. thankfully, she would only start filming at the salon, so y/n had time to prepare herself.

“if this is the last time i’ll ever see him” she thought before reaching out for the plain white envelope

“i might as well get everything out”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was easy for y/n to pretend that everything was fine, she is an idol after all. but, seeing jeongwoo made her heart clench.

y/n stayed seated as everyone stood up to move towards the auditorium for their ceremony. she crouched down and untied her shoe lace before slowly re-tying it, brushing off her classmate when they asked if she wanted them to stay back with her.

once the door was closed, she quickly stuffed her letter into jeongwoo’s desk before jogging after her class.

“nervous?” she questioned her friend who jumped at her voice

“don’t do that!” y/n rolled her eyes before slinging an arm around his shoulders ( or trying to, depends on height )

“we’re adults now jeongwoo. soon you’ll be old and gross — oh, wait, you already are” he glared as she laughed loudly, but jeongwoo noticed that her eyes seemed different

he opened his mouth to ask, but she quickly pulled away as they got closer to the auditorium. jeongwoo sighed at this, depending on if their groups pull them away immediately he might have to text her and ask if she was feeling alright.

“good luck” she said, before going to her seat

jeongwoo watched her go, feeling slight stiff as he didn’t get to say anything.

“i’ll ask her later” he comforted himself not knowing that it was the last she’ll ever speak to him

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n was taken away by her members soon after the ceremony was over, jeongwoo had stayed back to try and talk to her, but was quickly surrounded by his own group and their staff.

“jeongwoo, this was in your desk” one of his classmates handed him the letter before leaving

“what’s that?” hyunsuk asked as they all crowded around him, jeongwoo shrugged not finding anything interesting about it

“a love letter?” his band mates started cooing and teasing him

“shut up”

jeongwoo walked away from his group who immediately protested, but allowed him to go off and read it privately.

~

dear jeongwoo.

we have been friends since we met on the first day of class. i remember how close our debuts were, but we’ve never overlapped.

our boss told me two weeks ago that we would be disbanding soon after my graduation due to personal issues within the company.

i was just going to pretend that everything was fine, that not seeing you anymore wouldn’t affect me, but as i thought about it more — i realised that you not physically being in my life broke my heart.

which made me come to the conclusion that i like you.

i don’t know when it started, but every time i see you or your name gets mentioned, i feel warm and i get butterflies in my stomach.

i was never going to say anything and just keep my feelings hidden because of our job, but after finding out that we would most likely never cross paths again, i had to say something.

but i couldn't, which is why i've written this instead.

park jeongwoo. you're amazing. you deserved to have debuted and i'll be cheering you on sincerely from behind the screen.

and in case i don't get to say this, i'll write it here; congratulations on your graduation!

goodbye jeongwoo, and good luck.

y/n.

~

jeongwoo's mind raced while he stared at the letter.

"y/n liked him? her group is disbanding? y/n likes him? he probably won't see her anymore? y/n likes him?"

"you good?" haruto spoke and reached out to turn jeongwoo around, only to be faced with his teary eyes

"um — guys?" the rest of treasure faced haurto before looking at jeongwoo who was trying not to cry

"what's wrong?" hyunsuk asked as they started to crowd around him, his grip on the letter slowly decreasing

"y/n" he mumbled before pushing past them

asahi picked up the dropped letter and started reading, wondering what was written as it caused jeongwoo to run away suddenly.

"what does it say?" junkyu asked

"( group name ) is disbanding —" they gasped

"— and y/n has feelings for jeongwoo" they gasped again, but louder

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

jeongwoo was desperately searching for y/n, jogging through the hallways and asking those who were familiar to him if they've seen her anywhere, but no one had. it wasn't until he found their class leader that jeongwoo was made of aware of y/n's location.

"she already left" they looked at him with a strange expression, but brushed it off before walking away and disappear into the crowd of students

jeongwoo stood stunned. other students moved around him without a second thought. he was only snapped out of his shock when someone told him that his members were looking for him.

to be honest, jeongwoo didn’t want to go back. her letter would still be there. the letter where she poured out her feelings that he’s was certain weren’t real, the letter that made him realise all the signs that he missed, the letter being all that’s left of her now.

[ladyadrasteia666]

Say Amen (Saturday Night)- A Modern Human AU, Chapter 4

CW: None really.

Author's note: I hope you all enjoy this! It's my first attempt at a somewhat romantic scene. Credit as always to @cafekitsune for these fantastic dividers!

Masterlist Prev

A few days later, Addie found herself sitting at the bar at Mimzy’s. Compared to the crowd that typically found their way there, she looked rather out of place in a forest green turtleneck sweater dress, black leggings, and brown boots. She didn’t frequent the jazz club all that much anymore, save for the Cabaret Nights. Even the bartender- a gruff older man named Husker- couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Not used to seein’ you here unless you’re dancin’, kid. What gives?” He washed a glass clean before leaning against the counter.

“Oh… I… didn’t really want to be alone tonight. The last few days have been kind of rough. Being here helps. Don’t know if it’s the music or just…” Addie sighed as she thought about how panicked she became once she was finally alone in her own home. Drugged, nearly raped, almost losing everything she worked for- it was too much to dwell upon in that vast, empty space. “It’s better for me to be here right now. Gives me a chance to breathe a bit.”

Husker snorted as he put the now-clean glass away. “Whatever you say, kid. So, what’ll it be? Bourbon?”

Addie held up her hand and waved off his guess. “Nah, just… ginger ale tonight. And keep it coming, please.”

“You got it.” He handed her a glass of the ginger drink, and left her to listen to the lively jazz band.

Nursing her drink, Addie sat alone and read a book on her smartphone. The music faded to the background and soothed her overwrought nerves. Tension slowly ebbed away as she allowed herself to be immersed into some silly romance novel. She was on her second glass of ginger ale when she was pulled back into reality by a welcome voice.

“Two fingers of rye, my good man!” Alastor called to Husker as he leaned against the bar. Husker glowered as he poured the whiskey and set the glass near Alastor’s hand. Looking over at him, Addie couldn’t help but smile.

“Needed a break from grading those essays, I take it?” Addie turned to face Alastor, giving him her full attention. “It’s been a while, Mr. Moreau. How are you doing?”

“Eugh, you don’t know the half of it.” Alastor snorted in derision as he sipped his whiskey. “Lately, students have taken to using VoxTek-GPT and passing its regurgitation off as their own work. Poorly researched, lazily construed, and barely even edited! Why, it’s enough to make one go insane.” He took another sip and met her gaze. “But enough about me. What about you, my dear Adrasteia? What brings you here tonight?”

“In part, a change of scenery.” She smiled as she looked to the stage, where the live band was currently playing a smooth song and swayed lightly along to the sultry tune. Looking back at Alastor, she continued. “Nothing calms a weary soul more than the right music and the right atmosphere. But I digress. I was also hoping to catch you here tonight.”

“Me? Whatever for, my dear? It can’t be to discuss my podcast. The next episode hasn’t been released yet.” His ever-present grin turned into a teasing one, and Addie let out a small laugh.

“No, not that. Although… I am looking forward to it. A study on H. H. Holmes and his ‘Murder Hotel’? I can’t wait to see what you have to say about the man dubbed ‘America’s First Serial Killer’. Any hints? Or are you just gonna leave me hanging?”

His grin widened. “If I told you now, it would spoil the episode.”

Addie rolled her eyes, but gave him a warm smile. It was almost enough to hide the fatigue in her expression. Almost. Alastor could see that she had not been resting well since her ordeal, and that troubled him. How much did she remember? Was it worse than what he witnessed? His hands twitched, wanting to reach for his knife. Yet another reason to kill Richard Kingston, it seems. And with that thought came the image of Kingston, dead at his feet. A lovely pool of red blood surrounded Kingston’s quickly cooling corpse, the screams echoing in the confines of Alastor’s darkest fantasies. Should I make it slow? A cut for every careless touch? Or do I simply gut him and let him watch as his entrails fall out and he bleeds to death? So many possibilities…

Lost in his thoughts, Alastor belatedly noticed that Adrasteia was trying to get his attention, her hand waving in front of his face. “Uh…Mr. Moreau? Are you alright? You spaced out on me.”

“Hmmm? Ah, yes. I’m fine. Unfortunately, I missed what you said. Could you repeat it?” Sloppy, being lost in your thoughts like that, old chap. You need to be more careful.

Addie paid her tab at the bar and looked back at him. “I said that I had to get going. My study alarm went off, so break time for me is over. I was wondering if it would be too forward to ask you to walk with me to my car?”

“Oh, well I’d be delighted to! Can’t let a lady go around unescorted, can we?” He held out his arm, and she let out a small chuckle as she took it. The perfect picture of an old-timey gentleman. Why can’t more men be like him?

Though Alastor knew what car she drove- some kind of non-descript SUV- he let Adrasteia guide them both out Mimzy’s and into the parking lot. Once at her vehicle, she let go of his hand and opened her back door, where she pulled out his suit jacket. Turning to face him she said, “I believe…this is yours.”

“What makes you think this jacket is mine, dear?” Alastor asked, his head tilted inquisitively. The light from the nearby street lamp reflected off of his wire-framed spectacles.

Addie grinned as she explained, “You’re the only man I know who wears a jacket like this and smiles often enough to even warrant the nickname ‘Smiles’. Not the most creative nickname my buddy Angel could give you, but far from the worst. Trust me.” Her expression sobered; the levity of the moment leaving her. “He filled me in on how our ‘Girl’s Night’ ended up playing out. How you brought me to him and our friend Cherri, wearing your jacket and you told them to get me home.”

She cleared her throat and held out his jacket, still on a hanger and in a protective covering. “I took the liberty of calling in a rush order at Susan’s for a good dry cleaning. I figured you might not want it back covered in body glitter, cheap perfume, or gods only know what else is rampant at that club. It was the least I could do, considering…everything.”

Alastor took the hanger and smiled warmly at her. “You are correct that this is my jacket, but you do not need to thank me. I did what any proper man should do.”

Addie met his gaze, and shook her head earnestly. “You have no idea how grateful I am to you Mr. Moreau-” her words died in her throat as his lips brushed against hers.

It was feather-light, and completely stopped her train of thought. Her eyes were wide as she met his gaze; their breaths mingling. She could smell the rye that he had been drinking. Did that really just happen? She couldn’t help but wonder if her imagination ran wild for a moment. Note to self: sleepless nights and romance novels do not mix, Addie.

“Alastor.” He whispered, his stare unwavering.

“Huh? What?” It took her a second to register that he had spoken, her mind finally snapping back to reality.

“Alastor to you, my dear. I believe we are past such formal ways of addressing one another.” He clarified.

“Mr. Moreau-” Addie habitually began, only to be cut off by another kiss. This time, there could be no doubt as to what he did. His free hand cupped her jaw, holding her in place as he gently nipped her lower lip, as if asking for entrance. She parted her lips with a small gasp, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

It tasted of whiskey, smoke, and something else. Something uniquely him. She quickly grew warm as he continued to kiss her. Desire blazed within her, causing her to clutch the lapels of his waistcoat. Another teasing nip, and the kiss was broken. Their shared breaths were heavy, and Addie found herself hoping he would kiss her again.

“Alastor.” He had decided in this moment that he would kiss her as many times as necessary to get her to say his name properly. To his surprise, he found himself hoping that this was one time that Adrasteia would be slow on the uptake.

“Right. Alastor, I- wait… What? What is happening here?” Addie could only hope she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. It was as if her brain had short-circuited.  Now nothing was working right.

“Well my dear, I should think it rather obvious. You have done something quite unthinkable. You managed to get under my skin.”

Addie shivered slightly at his words. The tone was almost sinister and yet, it caused another wave of heat to pool in her core. Great, now I have a voice kink, too. Clearing her throat in an effort to regain composure, she asked, “Should I be worried about that?”

Standing up straight, Alastor let out a laugh as he took her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he replied, “In any other circumstance, perhaps. But I think in this case… I would hope that you would humor me with a date instead?”

“Oh, wow… Uh… Yes! Yes. I’d like that.” Wow, Addie. Way to sound sooo confident. Angel is gonna give you sooo much shit for this when you tell him later.

“Splendid! What time works best for you? I believe you said your schedule was quite full, as you were preparing for your residency.”

Addie stopped and thought for a moment. Pulling out her smartphone, she looked over her calendar before saying, “Hmm… I’m available next Tuesday night, if that works for you.” She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to him. “Here’s my number. Call me later and we can work out the details?”   

“Sounds perfect. Until then, ma cher…” He leaned in once more and brushed his lips against hers. “Get home safely.”

“Will do. Goodnight… Alastor.” She smiled warmly and climbed into her car, before driving off. Once she left the parking lot, Addie let out a giddy squeal. It had been a long time since she actually went on a date with someone. Despite the debacle that the Girl’s Night turned into, she almost felt grateful for the incident Saturday night.

Her expression sobered as she tried again to fully recall the events of the night. She could feel the frustration mount as- try though she might- all she could conjure was darkness. At least one thing was clear: Valentino drugged her, and in doing so, he nearly cost her everything. He was forgetting his place and for that, he would pay dearly.

It was time for a reckoning.

Next

[gorgonwrites]

still loving you, part 1

geto suguru x fem!reader

in which your best friend shoko takes you to the bar your ex-boyfriend is performing at tonight.

wc: 2.3k-ish

author's note: i wrote a geto fic- someone fucking sedate me. i love that man w my whole heart. ps, i swear i will learn how to write a one shot one day. i am nothing if not a slut for the buildup. this is inspired by the song still loving you by the scorpions bc it's a GOOD FUCKIN SONG

tags/ CW: sfw but will be nsfw eventually, fem!reader, second chance romance, modern AU, bassist!geto, reader broke getos heart but we'll make it right don't worry, reader/ shoko/ geto/ gojo are bffs duh, slowburn bc i can't fucking help myself, reader smokes a cigarette or two bc i like the effect SMOKING IS BAD 4 U ok??

“Was it really necessary to bring me along for this? I could be home with my cat right now.” your best friend pulled you to her favorite bar, laughing as you continued to grumble. 

“You never leave your apartment, y/n. Have some fun for once!” Shoko continued to tug you along until you were at the door of The Sorcerer’s Lounge. If you were completely honest you didn’t hate this place- it was more speakeasy than dive bar, and it was one of the more peaceful places Shoko liked to bring you. 

“I do leave my apartment. I work, I go grocery shopping, and I sit and read in the park across town. So there.” You stuck your tongue out at her. She was your opposite but you adored her all the same. While she liked to party and drink herself into oblivion, you liked to stay in and enjoy your own company. You finished your party phase while you were in college- thinking about it made your chest twinge. “You know this isn’t really my thing anymore. I just made an exception tonight because I like it here.” Shoko had mentioned a show happening tonight, and you generally enjoyed the entertainment that the lounge offered. 

“Well you look fucking devastating, y/n, maybe we should make this your thing again?” Shoko was too hopeful, though her effort made you giggle. She took your hand and had you twirl in front of her, making the thigh-high slit of your dress threaten to show just too much. You did miss late nights like this, but it simultaneously felt foreign to you. There was something- someone- missing. You shook the thought away. As you both made your way through the crowd to the bar you saw a familiar head of white hair, and you stopped in your tracks. Shoko still had a firm grasp on your wrist, and your sudden halt nearly had her fall over. 

“Shoko, who’s playing tonight? I didn’t have the time to check.” actually you hadn’t cared to check, but you didn’t think it would’ve been your ex-boyfriend’s band. You looked at her sharply and she grimaced. Please, no. 

“Oh, I ah, I don’t remember!” She smiled sheepishly and tried to laugh the question off. Just as you were about to turn around and march out of the bar, you were engulfed in a tight hug. 

“Y/N! No way! Shoko you didn’t say she was coming too! Fuck dude, it’s been way too long. How are you?” You were smashed into Gojo’s chest, unable to respond. He held you tightly and laughed, a familiar and bright sound that always made you smile in the past. Right now, though, you wanted to hurtle yourself into the sun. Of all the nights you agreed to join Shoko, why did it have to be tonight? You managed to wiggle your way out of Gojo’s grip and huffed in response, trying not to take your agitation out on the man. After a breath, you were able to respond. 

“Gojo, it’s so good to see you.” you smiled gently and you meant it. He looked good. You weren’t sure if it was possible but he seemed even taller than when you’d seen him last, and he still had the same stupid sunglasses that he used to wear. “It’s been five years, I think? I won’t lie, I haven't really had the time to keep track.” A lie. Yes you were busy, but you knew exactly how long it had been since you had seen him and his best friend. The four of you had been inseparable during your college years, a rag-tag quartet against the rest of the world. You did everything together, until suddenly you didn’t. It hurt. It still hurts. 

“Oh, shit, I have to tell Suguru you came!” Gojo spun on his heel and ran across the bar and out of sight.

“Fuck, Gojo, don’t!” you yelled after him and tried to make your way in the same direction, but it was useless. He had a habit of appearing and disappearing, and you knew you wouldn’t find him. You slowly turned to your best friend, your eyes blazing. “Care to explain this shit to me?” Shoko shrank under your gaze but seemed to recover quickly. 

“Gojo reached out to me a few days ago to tell me they’d be in town and to tell me about their gig tonight. I thought it would be nice for the four of us to catch up.” you could hear the pain in her voice. “I thought you were over everything by now, y/n. You never bring Geto up anymore. I don’t even remember the last time you said his name.” you groaned at your ex-boyfriend being mentioned, and pinched the bridge of your nose to keep yourself from saying something stupid. 

“You know I adore you, Shoko.” you breathed, “But why did you think this was a good idea? My breakup with Geto shattered our friend group. I’m not sure if it really will be a nice thing for us to catch up.” though you had been surprised by Gojo’s response to seeing you. “We’ve all gone our separate ways in life. I’m not sure we really need to dwell on the past.” you had built a life for yourself, and you were proud of that fact. Yes, there were lonely nights and moments that you craved a closeness that you’d only ever experienced with Geto. But you made a life nonetheless, and you weren’t willing to mess it up because Shoko wanted to live in the past. “He broke my heart, Shoko. I think a part of me is still recovering.”

“You broke his too, you know.” Shoko said firmly. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn you would’ve seen that. Leave if you want to. I’m going to support our boys.” Our boys. She stalked off, leaving you breathless. You slumped into a chair at the bar and ordered a shot. If you were going to stay, you needed something to take the edge off. 

. . .

“She’s here with Shoko! I saw! She looks fucking incredible, by the way. Damn, it was good to see her face. There’s something different about her, but she’s still y/n. I can tell.” Gojo continued to ramble on about you, giving Geto a massive fucking headache. He didn’t expect Shoko to make it, and he definitely hadn’t expected to hear that you were with her. His heart leapt in his chest, agitating him even further. 

“Satoru, I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to wring your neck.” he slumped back onto the sofa in their small changing room and scrubbed his hands over his face. “This has you and Shoko written all over it.” Shoko and Gojo loved plotting together, whether it was going to be messy or not. They just seemed to enjoy the ride. 

“Suguru, come on. You don’t fucking shut up about her. In all the years it's been, I know you’re still crazy about her. And I know you want to see her, so get over yourself. She showed up, whether you like it or not. I don’t think she’d just abandon Shoko because you’re here.” Geto knew you wouldn’t leave her, so he was going to have to suck it up. “We’re on in thirty. Get your shit together.” Geto stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember your face. You never posted on social media, and Shoko rarely had photos of you up anymore. You had basically just disappeared one day, and it made the ache in his chest get worse. 

. . .

“Two espresso martinis, please.” You had taken two shots, and after letting them take effect you were finally ready to face Shoko again. You carefully carried the drinks through the crowd and into the lounge area, carefully searching through the tables and booths to find your best friend. You found her in the front row, stress smoking her cigarettes. “Those’ll kill you, you know.” you smirked, and she angrily looked up at you. 

“Hmph. The stress from how stubborn you are already has me halfway there.” she eyed the drinks in your hand. “Though, a drink might add a few more years back to my lifespan.” You placed your drinks on the table and sat down beside her, wondering when the show would start.

“I really don’t know if I can do this.” you did your best to hide the tremor in your voice but Shoko noticed, like she always did. She pushed your hair behind your ear and smiled. 

“You can, though. We’re just supporting our boys. No harm in that, right?” There really was no harm in it, but it made you nervous all the same. Your breakup with Geto had been entirely underwhelming, at best. You knew you had been growing apart for some time, and your parents never approved of him to begin with. He wanted to travel and make music, free as a bird. You wanted to stay and work in the city, carving out your own little slice of paradise where you were. He wanted you to come with him, you wanted him to stay. It would never, ever work. So you called it quits one day, plain and simple. He didn’t put up a fight though, and it had solidified your suspicions of him getting bored with you. You left and had tried your best not to look back after that. 

“Earth to y/n, can you hear me?” Shoko waved her hand in your face. “I said they’ll be on soon. Are you even listening to me?” you had to give yourself a shake to snap out of it. This was about to be a long fucking night if you couldn’t get a grip. 

“Give me one of those.” you snatched the pack of cigarettes from Shoko and lit one, taking a long drag before you exhaled in her face. You continued to take long drags until you finished and grabbed another.

“What the fuck happened to these will kill you?” Shoko snatched the pack out of your hands and stuffed it into her purse out of reach.

“The stress from how stubborn I am already has me halfway there.” you parroted back to her and lit the second one, winking. “It’s fine, I won’t have another. I have some semblance of self control, unlike someone I know.” Shoko rolled her eyes and grumbled, but immediately perked up when the lights began to dim. You had the opposite reaction, tensing up and shrinking into your seat as you smoked. Your best friend noticed though, as always, and looped her arm through yours.

“We’re just supporting them, like I said a little while ago. No harm, no foul. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” She gave you a reassuring smile, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Shoko had been your rock through the breakup, and continued to support you even now. You could feel how excited she was, and admittedly her excitement was always contagious. You relaxed and watched as everyone came out on stage. 

Gojo of course came out first, that damn show pony. His boisterous attitude and loud mouth always annoyed you, and he always did the most to get the attention he wanted. You love him half to death though, and he knows it. He got all of you into trouble so many times you had lost count. A blonde with glasses came out next, a new addition to the band it seemed. You had never seen him before. A short man with cropped black hair and a huge grin came out next, and you recognized him from school though you couldn’t remember his name. Haibara? Something like that. That left Geto for last, as usual. 

You had forgotten just how beautiful he was. He walked out with a small smile on his face and waved to the crowd, and you couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling in your chest as the screaming got louder when he took his spot onstage. He had more tattoos than you remembered, and his hair was much longer. He wasn’t wearing it up in a bun, which felt unusual to you. Instead his black hair cascaded down his back and over his shoulders, framing his face. Was his bottom lip pierced now? He was too far away for you to be sure. You studied him carefully, drinking in the image in front of you. While everyone else got settled you watched as he began to scan the crowd for someone. You took another drag from your cigarette, wondering who he was so intent on finding. His eyes continued to wander until they found you. You locked eyes with him and tried not to choke as you exhaled, and leaned farther into Shoko’s embrace. He looked as shocked as you felt- your heart was about to jump up and out of your fucking throat. You could barely see the corners of his mouth turn up, and he raised his eyebrows before he finally looked away. You knew that stupid look. That was the ‘and what do we have here?’ look he always had on when he relentlessly teased you. The look was enough to make you scowl and huff, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Geto spared you another glance, and seeing you in such a state made him break out in a ridiculous grin before he laughed to himself. He loved teasing you. 

“He seems really happy to see you.” Shoko whispered in your ear. She huddled close to you, letting you lean into her as much as you needed.

“Yeah, well, no one said I was happy to see him.” your best friend let out a huff, letting you know you weren’t fooling her. You were hardly fooling yourself. Truthfully, seeing him after all this time made you feel like you were floating. You could only remember his face glassed over and uninterested, so seeing him happy made your heart leap. He loved being on stage and performing, and you loved watching him do it. The show began and, as always, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

[strangersatellites]

AU where steve and robin own a bookstore+coffeehouse and it becomes their pride and joy.

steve knows everything about every book and loves to give customers recommendations. robin has taken to being a barista like she was born to do it. dreaming up new flavors of cold foam when she sleeps.

it’s in the fall that they get a new neighbor in the form of a record store.

robin is so excited she can hardly contain herself, has it’s grand opening added to the shop calendar as soon as she hears.

when the big day finally rolls around the music is loud, the line is long, and the complimentary drinks are flowing. by the time steve and robin make it over, they don’t get the chance to meet the owners because everything is just so busy.

they retreat back to the bookstore and try to accommodate their own guests and regulars despite the thumping bass from next door. steve gives them some slack, opening day parties are always a big ordeal.

but the loud music doesn’t stop the next day.

or the next day. or the next.

by the end of the second week, steve is watching himself turn into a crotchety old man in real time. he’s had enough of trying to pick a coffeehouse playlist that will hopefully drown out the noise from the record store. it never does.

he marches over as soon as it starts up one day, fully intent on making a scene if he has to when he spots a tall, lanky guy behind the counter. pretty. add pretty in there too.

he’s got his hair pulled back in a clip and a t-shirt for a band steve doesn’t recognize pulled across his broad shoulders.

the guy throws a hand up and waves at steve where he’s frozen in the door. says “hey man welcome in. let me know if i can help you with anything!”

he’s momentarily stunned until the next song picks back up and he can physically feel the floor vibrate under his feet.

he stomps up the counter and slaps his palms against it. jolts the guy to attention with wide, worried eyes.

“dude. could your music be any louder? you know you’re next door to a bookstore right? you know. the quiet place where people go to relax and read?” he gestures with a flurry of his hands.

pretty boy actually looks embarrassed for a second before he reaches over to a screen and decreases the volume.

he wears a sheepish smile when he crosses his arms over his chest.

“sorry dude. my co-owner chrissy had a pretty bad accident a few years back and lost a good bit of her hearing. i keep it up pretty loud so she can hear it. i’ll bring it down some though. sorry it’s been bothering you.”

and oh. steve was not expecting him to have an excuse. especially not a good one.

now he feels bad.

“it’s really okay. i’m sorry i came in a little dramatic. my co-owner robin and i have just worked really hard the past few years to curate our space and i guess i just got thrown off.” he shrugs. “it’s cool though. this is your store as much as the next one is mine, so.”

the guy smiles big and bright and man he really is pretty. steve’s eyes flit down to a name tag that reads “eddie.”

“maybe just bring the noise down a smidge though?” he smiles when he says it so eddie knows he isn’t mad.

he nods and steve hears a clatter come from the back. eddie laughs and hangs his head. “i should probably go check on her. she hid in the back when she saw you on the sidewalk so i couldn’t chicken out of talking to you.”

steve’s jaw drops at the implication and he has to take a second to reorganize his thoughts.

“i- what?”

eddie brings a hand up to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture and his cheeks flush the faintest pink.

“i may or may not have been unable to shut up about the pretty boy next door since our grand opening party.”

steve laughs this time, loud and happy.

“i didn’t even see you!”

“oh well i saw you. chris has been on my case to walk over for days so when she saw her opportunity today she took it.”

steve’s head tilts to the side and he has a playful smile on his face when he says “weren’t you supposed to be checking on her?”

eddie spins around so fast he nearly sends a cup of pens clattering to the ground.”

“shit! i-“

“don’t hurt yourself, rockstar. i’ll see you around eddie.”

eddie’s head swings back around and his face is scrunched up in confusion until steve points at his name tag.

“ah. right. well, i’ll see you around too…”

“steve.”

this time when steve walks through the door it’s quiet enough he can hear the bell jingle above it.

au august day 12: book store

[foundtherightwords]

The Minstrel, the Maiden, and the Knights of Hellfire - Chapter 3

Pairing: Hellcheer, Medieval AU

Summary: England, 1139: the civil war between King Stephen and Empress Maud looms large, threatening to tear the country in half. For Ed and his band of traveling minstrels, however, the more pressing matter is how to survive the upcoming winter, now that they were tossed out by their latest patron. When they stumble upon a naïve pageboy looking for warriors to escort the lady Christiana to safe haven in Wales, Ed comes up with a daring plan - pose as knights, take the job, and collect the reward. After all, how hard can it be? What Ed doesn't count on is endless battles, treacherous roads, marauding bandits, Lady Christiana's pompous fiancé, and his own growing attraction to the fair maiden herself...

Chapter warning: none

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

Christiana walked into the woods until she could hear the others argue about which branches to bring back and see the splash of blue from Dustin's cotte. There, she sat down on a fallen tree. Her breath soon returned to normal, though her heart continued to race, not from exertion but from anger. How dare he speak to her like—like she was a child! The previous night, she had congratulated herself on her good fortune at having secured such an escort, but now, she began to wonder if she was making a terrible blunder, putting her life into the hands of such men.

Christiana knew she was woefully naïve. Her whole life, she had known only her father's manor and then the convent at Chichester. The world outside sometimes felt too large, too bewildering for her. But what choice did she have? Could she say the other hands waiting for her were any better? Bitterness rose within her, bitterness at her father for abandoning her, bitterness at the royal cousins, Stephen and Maud, for waging this war, bitterness at the unfairness of being born a woman and having her life decided by men.

Maxime caught up with her. "My lady?" the girl said. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Maxime, I'm fine," replied Christiana, wiping away the tears she hadn't realized had spilled down her cheeks.

"A word from you, my lady," Maxime said, wielding her dagger, "and I'll teach him a lesson he won't soon forget."

Christiana laughed. "No, it's all right," she said. "He may be a boor who doesn't know how to treat a lady, but he's not a bad person."

"So we are going with them?"

"It seems that way." As she said it, Christiana realized she had made up her mind. Whoever these Knights of Hellfire were, they were still better than the alternative.

"I suppose we have to anyway," said Maxime. "There's your inheritance still left on the wagon."

Christiana stood up. Of course! How could she have forgotten? The saddlebags, filled with the last of the Connyngham fortune, what her father couldn't take with him to France to help Empress Maud raise an army, jewels and coins carefully sequestered in the hems and linings of her clothes. It had been intended as her dowry, and now it was her future. Doubt flooded Christiana's mind once more. What if the men had made off with them?

Together, the two girls hurried back to the marsh. The others had returned and were now busy laying branches under the wagon's wheels to ease its passage back to dry land. At the sight of the wagon, Christiana was both relieved and ashamed at having doubted Ed and his friends. They wouldn't rob her. If they had any evil intentions toward her, they would've acted on them long before this. Fate had brought them to her, and she must learn to trust them.

***

Ed, too, breathed out in relief at seeing Christiana return. Although the riders had gone in the opposite direction, he was half-afraid the wolf might have sniffed her out somehow.

After many words of encouragement to Warlock and much pushing and pulling, the wagon was on the path once more. Christiana made for the wagon's door, but Ed put a hand on her sleeve, stopping her.

"A word, my lady," he said.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes open anxiously.

"While you were gone, we had a rather unsettling encounter. A group of riders, led by a one-eyed knight, came looking for you and your servants." He looked to Tadhg for corroboration, and Tadhg nodded at Christiana, confirming it.

A frightful change came over Christiana. Her face went as white as chalk, like the blood had been drained out of her, and she put a hand to her chest, while the other gripped the wagon's frame for support. Next to her, Dustin and Maxime also exchanged terrified looks. Maxime rushed forward to help her mistress sit down on the wagon's step.

"A one-eyed knight?" Christiana repeated weakly. "Looking for us? And did you tell him where we were?"

"No, of course not!" Ed said, affronted that she would even suspect him of such a deed. "What do you take me for?"

Christiana had the grace to look ashamed. "Please, forgive me," she said. "I did not mean to question your honesty."

"I take it that you know him then," said Ed, slightly appeased. "Who is he?"

Christiana seemed too distressed to speak. It was Dustin who replied. "His real name is Henry Creel," the boy said, "but he is called Lord Vecna, a Saracen name he picked up during the Crusade. He serves my lady's—" Here he paused and glanced at Christiana. "My lady? Shall I tell the whole tale?" he asked.

Maxime found a flask of ale and put it to her mistress's lips. The drink revived Christiana. "It is my tale, Dustin," she said. "I shall tell it." Turning those iris-blue eyes upon Ed, she said, "Vecna serves my intended husband."

Whatever Ed had expected, this wasn't it. He stared at Christiana. "Your intended?"

"Yes. Sir Jocelyn de Craven of Devonshire. We were betrothed as children. It was why my father left me in England—he believed that it would be safer for me here once Jocelyn and I were wedded."

Geoff and Gareth, having heard about the riders from Ed, were also gathering with curiosity. "So why didn't you marry him?" Gareth piped up. Ed glared at him for the tactless question.

Two spots of high color appeared on Christiana's pale cheeks, and she bent her head as if in shame. "Jocelyn's father was loyal to the Empress, as is mine. But after his father passed away, Jocelyn declared for the King instead. My father had already left for France then and did not know of this betrayal." She looked around at them. "Jocelyn is a traitor to the Empress's cause. I cannot marry him. And he only wishes to marry me so he could hold me hostage and force my father to return to England. That is why I was in such haste to leave Chichester. Vecna must have been sent to fetch me, and when he found me gone, he went after me."

She fell silent then, seemingly exhausted by fear. Maxime picked up her tale. "Vecna and his men are little more than mercenaries," the girl said. "Whenever there is fighting, they're always close behind to rob and pillage the defenseless, like vultures descending on an injured animal. If Vecna captures my lady, he may not even deliver her to Sir Jocelyn. He may decide to sell her to the highest bidder instead."

Now it was Ed who felt as though his blood had been drained. If the wolf—Vecna—and his men were in service of the King, then at least they could expect some veneer of lawfulness, no matter how thin. But this band of outlaws, working for a traitorous knight to hunt down a helpless young woman, would stop at nothing. Four humble minstrels would have no hope of prevailing over such men. They couldn't. Not for twenty shillings, or even all the pretty blue eyes in the world.

"Why didn't you tell us any of this last night?" he asked Dustin, almost accusingly.

"There was no time," said the boy, looking at Ed in confusion. "But it is precisely for this reason that we have engaged your service. Surely, you would have no trouble with Vecna and his men should we come upon them again. You are knights. You have been to the Holy Land. These bandits are nothing."

It wasn't simply that Ed's blood had been drained and replaced with ice water. He was also hurtling down a bottomless pit, its pitch-dark sides rushing up toward him and closing in over his head, and for good measure, whoever had thrown him down the pit was putting a large, immovable rock on top of it as well. A look around at his friends' aghast faces told him that they were feeling the same.

"What?" he croaked.

"Of course, it is beneath you to face such a rabble," Dustin quickly said, mistaking Ed's horrified look for outrage. "But please consider that it is for the noblest of causes, in defense of a lady..."

Christiana, on the other hand, saw the fear on Ed's face, saw and understood it, perhaps because it reflected her own. "Please," she said, putting a timid hand on Ed's sleeve. "You are our only hope of finding a safe haven. There is no one else we can trust. No one else I can trust."

Her touch, her voice, and the beseeching look in her eyes melted some of the ice-cold fear from Ed's veins. He gathered himself. "If you would excuse us, my lady," he said, beckoning to the others. "We must discuss this matter. In private!" he added, when Dustin made to follow them.

As the boy retreated in confusion, Ed hurried his friends toward the cover of the trees. When he was sure they were out of earshot of those by the wagon, Ed threw himself on the ground. "They thought we were real knights!" he hissed, in fury and despair. 

The others were equally shocked. "How could they have thought that?" exclaimed Gareth. "Who in their right mind would think we were knights? Look at us!"

"So that was why they were so eager to travel with us!" said Geoff. "Because they believe we could protect them."

Indeed. And it was also why Dustin had been so excited and asked all those questions about the Holy Land, questions Ed had stupidly thought were about minstrelsy. Fool, fool!

"We can't," said Tadhg, concise as always. "I've seen the man they called Vecna and his followers. We would be lucky if we could escape with our lives."

Ed tore a hand through his hair. "I've made a pig's ear out of this, lads. This is my fault."

"Well, you just have to go back there and tell them we cannot escort them to Wales," said Geoff. "And give back the coin."

At the mention of the coin, Gareth's fear took on a new form. "No!" he said, seizing the pouch at Tadhg's neck as if afraid Tadhg would return it this very instance. "We were counting on those coins to survive the winter."

"No amount of coins can be worth our lives," said Geoff.

"But there is no certainty that we may even run into those men," said Gareth, gaining confidence. "They're going west, Ed said so himself. If we push north, we can avoid them."

Ed had to admit that there was wisdom in what Gareth said. Before he could answer, Dustin appeared, crashing through the thickets toward them. The minstrels looked upon him with the guilt-laden glances of those caught in the act of committing some crime, and kept their mouths shut.

"My lady wished me to tell you," the boy said, panting, "that she would double the fee if you agree to this."

Ed and his friends exchanged astonished looks. Forty shillings! None of them had ever seen so much money, let alone possess such a sum.

Dustin was shifting from foot to foot, waiting for an answer, so Ed said, "We'll consider it," to send the boy on his way. Dustin nodded cheerfully and ran back to the wagon.

As soon as the boy was gone, Geoff turned to Ed, shaking his head slowly but firmly. "I'm not doing it."

"But—forty shillings, Geoff!" Gareth said. "Ten for each of us!"

"I prefer not dying, thank you."

Gareth turned to Tadhg, who said "No" even before Gareth could open his mouth.

Gareth gave Ed a desperate look. It appeared they were at an impasse. Usually, this would be when Ed exercised his power as the leader of the troupe and made a decision for them, but this time, he found himself unable to do so. This was too important a decision to be made on his own. After all, Geoff was right. Their very lives were at stake. And yet... and yet...

Seeing him waver, Gareth repeated, "Forty shillings, Ed! Think of it!"

Ed did think, not of the forty shillings, but of a trembling hand on his sleeve, a quivering voice telling him that she trusted him, and a pair of blue eyes that spoke plainly of that trust. Trust him, whom she had never seen before, who had been less than courteous to her. For all her beauty and charm, it was that look of trust that swayed him. No one had ever looked at him thus, and he found himself wanting to prove to her that her trust had not been misplaced.

"All right," he said. "I have an idea. Here's what we shall do..."

***

They returned to the wagon. Christiana seemed to have recovered from her shock, for she was standing next to Warlock, rubbing his ears and nose. Warlock was clearly enjoying the attention, shaking his head and swishing his tail with pleasure. The sight strengthened Ed's resolve. There were not many people that Warlock gave his affection to so readily.

"My lady," Ed said in his most dignified voice, as he stopped in front of Christiana and bowed. "I thank you for your trust in us. I believe that we, nay, I owe you an apology. I didn't know the extent of your trouble and thus might have been less than courteous to you, and for that, I am sorry."

It was strange. When he thought that Christiana believed him to be a minstrel, he'd had no qualm about being rude—after all, she couldn't expect a lowly traveling entertainer to pay her the same courtesy as a lord. But now, having realized the misunderstanding, Ed's cheeks burned with shame when he remembered how he'd groused and grumbled at her. She had hoped for a noble knight and had received a fraud playing at mummery instead.

No matter. He would do everything in his power to make amends to her.

Christiana smiled weakly. "It was my fault for keeping it from you, sir, uh—" She trailed off, and Ed realized they had never formally introduced themselves.

"Do forgive me, my lady," he said. "We were in such a rush last night that we have neglected a proper introduction. I am Edmund de Moyon—"

"De Moyon?" said Christiana, wide-eyed. "Are you related to Lord Guillaume de Moyon of Birmingham?"

Damnation. De Moyon had been lord of the manor near where Ed had grown up, and was still the lord there as far as Ed knew. He wished he'd chosen a lesser-known name, but it was too late now. "I belong to a very minor branch of the family, my lady," he said quickly. "I'm afraid I cannot claim an acquaintance with Sir Guillaume."

That explanation was good enough for Christiana, and she asked no further questions. Breathing more easily, Ed went on to introduce his companions. "This is Gareth ap Huw of Aberystwyth, Tadhg of Gainsborough, and Geoffrey of Alexandria." None of those names, like his own, was an outright lie. Gareth's father was called Huw, Tadhg did come from Gainsborough, and Geoffrey's parents were from Egypt, even though they had been brought to England by a knight of the First Crusade, and Geoffrey had been born in Cambridge.

As Ed made the introduction, Christiana looked them over with curiosity and something close to amusement, not the condescending kind, as one might have when looking at minstrels, but the interested kind, as though she wished to know more about them. "Such different origins," she said. "How did you meet?"

"We served in the Holy Land under the Count of Tripoli," said Ed. Back in the grove, he and the lads had discussed this at length and decided that, as the late Count died two years ago, it was the safest choice.

"Father or son?" asked Christiana.

Damnation. If he wasn't careful, she could find more holes in his story than a sieve. Yet despite himself, Ed had to admire Christiana for her knowledge. Is there any nobleman, any lord that she doesn't know?

"Father, of course. Sir Pons. We were with him when Bazwaj of Damascus attacked Tripoli. We were with him when he fled into the mountains."

This was what Ed loved best, and what he did best—to weave a tale. In inns and taverns, in marketplaces, around campfires by the roadside, there were always people telling stories, foot soldiers with anecdotes of the Crusades, servants with gossip about their lords, traveling monks with chronicles of saints and angels, old farmers with yarns of faeries and other strange creatures of the woods and the hills. And Ed was always close by, drinking in those tales like the ground soaking up the rain after a drought, storing them away in his mind to be used later. Now he was speaking of the invasion of Tripoli as passionately as if he had really been there. Behind him, his friends fell silent, only sharing the occasional delighted look. They knew better to interrupt Ed when he was wearing his storyteller cap.

"Alas, we were unable to prevent his capture and execution at the hands of Bazwaj," he continued. "And then his son, Raymond, blamed the local Christians for Sir Pons's death, so he invaded their villages and tortured them. It was horrible. Such sights we have never seen, even during all of our years in the Holy Land." He paused for dramatic effect and looked away with a shudder, like he was reliving those horrors. "We could not abide by such brutality," he said, "so we tried to rebel against Raymond."

"What happened then?" asked Christiana, breathless with anticipation.

"We were no match for him and his men. We were lucky to escape with our lives. And we returned to England in disgrace, masterless, not even allowed to carry our swords." Since Christiana had slept the night before in the wagon, she had no doubt noticed that they had no weapons sharper than their eating knives. He had to explain such a glaring absence somehow. "Even now, two years later, I am still known as Edmund the Banished."

Dustin, who had been listening with his mouth hanging open all this time, spoke up. "Does this mean you cannot protect us?"

Christiana turned her inquisitive eyes upon Ed.

"Since you have trusted us with your trouble, my lady," Ed said with his most sincere expression, "we would trust you with our trouble as well. If you decide that we, as disgraced knights, cannot provide you with adequate protection, I understand. One word from you, and we shall part ways."

"No!" Christiana said quickly. "I do not wish for you to leave. But Dustin did raise a true conundrum. Without weapons, how do you propose to protect us?"

Ed glanced at his friends. This was the crux of his plan. Convincing Lady Christiana was the first step, the most important one.

"You may have noticed," he said, "that we travel as Knights of Hellfire. This is no true name, but rather our alias. You see, when we returned from the Holy Land to find England mired in civil war, we've decided that it is best not to serve one master, for who knows how things may change on the morrow? Rather, we would travel the country in search of adventures and to help those in need, like the knights errant of old. But being in disgrace, we cannot make our true selves known, for even now, Raymond of Tripoli may be hunting for us. Thus, we are in disguise... as minstrels."

Christiana's marble brow, furrowed a moment ago in confusion, now relaxed. "I see," she said slowly.

"My proposal, our proposal, to you, my lady, is this," Ed went on. "We shall keep the course for Wales, but rather than avoiding the main roads, we would follow the main roads. Stay in the largest towns, sleep in the most crowded inns. Hide in plain sight."

"An ingenious plan!" exclaimed Dustin. "Vecna would not dare attack in such public places. My lady, I think we should heed Sir Edmund's counsel."

Even the skeptical Maxime appeared convinced. Yet Christiana still had her misgivings. "What about me?" she asked. "Am I to continue riding inside the wagon, hidden from view like some saint's bones inside a reliquary?" There was a touch of defiance in her voice and in her eyes as she raised them to meet Ed's, and he found himself admiring her once again. She had stronger mettle than she showed.

"I don't want you to tire yourself out—" he began.

"I won't," she said firmly.

"—and you're going to draw attention, a fine lady such as yourself, traveling with a band of rabbles like us."

"I assure you, Sir Edmund, I am no fine lady." With that, she took off her swan down cloak, tossed it into the back of the wagon, and pulled away the net covering her head like a web of gold gossamer, leaving her hair to stream down her back. "When we get to the next town, I shall buy some plainer clothes," she said. "From this moment on, I am no longer Lady Christiana. I am merely Chrissy, the daughter of a glove maker from Exeter. Dustin and Maxime are my brother and sister, and we're traveling with you to stay with my mother's kin in Wales."

Ed was tempted to tell Christiana that even in her dark gown, with her hair flowing over her shoulders like molten gold, she still looked too majestic—perhaps even more so, for her beauty now spoke for itself, without finery to dim its light—and no one would believe her disguise, but he also had to admit that there was sense in what she said. Her fiancé and his wolf would be looking for a high-born lady traveling with her servants, not a burgher's daughter traveling with her siblings.

"Very well, Mistress Chrissy," he said. "If you're no longer Lady Christiana, then I'm no longer Sir Edmund either. I'm simply Ed. And my friends and I do swear on—on—" What could they swear on? They didn't hold sacred much, not God, not King, nor Empress. "On our mothers," he concluded. It seemed as good an oath as any. "We do swear on our mothers to protect you and yours. Is this acceptable to you?"

Christiana looked at him for a long while. Finally, she inclined her head. "I accept," she said, a small smile breaking over her rosy lips.

Chapter 4