#there was a bit where they were going through the instruments one by one

[octosan]

Working on one of the videos for my drinking game series and I got mad and wrote a whole rant that I realized was a little too much for a drinking game post.

I just hate this script so much you guys. I hate SO MUCH how much they simplified the dialogue, the worldbuilding, the puzzle solving in this game.

I've seen a lot of complaints about fans being illiterate towards the story and to that I say of course they are! The game doesn't ask them to think! Rather than throwing up your hands saying "maybe they had a good reason to dumb down the dialogue and spoonfeed you this stuff"

consider that critical thinking is a muscle

and players do not exercise it when the game is afraid you will forget the core premises of the game, or individual missions, and so repeat them constantly.

When your companions all get along and share the same basic principles beyond bland culture differences, and their principles are all ones deemed acceptable to "modern" audiences, so you never have to think about what life experiences might have led them to feel that way.

When you have your companions constantly patting you and the other companions on the back and saying "nice job!!" in combat as if we wouldn't understand that they are friends otherwise.

When you constantly have characters make juvenile comments like "this is evil, even for the venatori!" or "they did that just for power?/greed?" or "man this makes me hate the venatori even more!" (even more?? these are fantasy nazis!!! you didn't hate them already??) and then don't give the evil factions any nuance because they're afraid you won't get that these factions are eeeeeevil. (The Venatori were never very nuanced outside Calpernia but at least there was lip service that they were a symptom of broader issues, not the convenient cause.)

When you're constantly explaining to the player how many blight pustules they still need to pop, how many crystals you have left, and oh!! the gate's open now! go through the gate! or look! there are darkspawn there where your camera is already pointed! Even late in the game they were doing this! Even at the end of Bellara's questline she was explaining that laser mechanic to me!

When they present you with lore reveals that have been highly anticipated for decades, as well as multiple memories which are meant to add to our interpretation of a core character, and they literally just tell you what to think about them and how to interpret them, at length, in that godawful regret questline. (And tbh even Solas' memories in the Crossroads did not tell me anything I did not already know)

And then Mythal saying "hey those murals are not 100% reliable memories" in a single missable dialogue option that we don't address any further, rendering even that agonizing bit of handholding pointless. Like okay what does it MATTER that they are not 100% reliable? because the redemption ending relies on your interpretations of it being 100% correct!! what purpose does that line serve except to give the writers deniability?

When you don't even bother to GIVE new worldbuilding details when they could absolutely be relevant at the time, except when it makes the writers' job easier like "turlum" or Bellara's clan's funeral practices being indistinguishable from ancient elven ones even though that's literally not what we were told about Dalish practices in the past, guess the Emerald Graves don't exist anymore-. Like just as one example that has stuck in my head, Elgy and Ghilly use terms like The Blight, Archdemons, Darkspawn, the Crossroads, etc. despite being from time periods that predate those terms and presumably having their own words for those same concepts. You can't tell me that Ghilly honestly thinks of her beloved hell children as "darkspawn", or that she would tolerate other people calling them that. You can't tell me that Elgy would agree to call his instrument of reshaping the world, which he is trying to convince people is a good thing, the Blight.

When the game actively punishes people who are familiar with the prior materials with their worldbuilding, punishes people who are reading the codex entries and looking for minor throwaway lines that acknowledge previous shit like the fact that Crows are literally tortured as part of their training and killed if they fail contracts, by having it not be remotely relevant to the story and make it much harder to have the appropriate reaction to what's happening in it (like Rook has no choice but to be happy Jacobus is taking in more orphan crows??) This is low-hanging fruit but it's so illustrative of what I mean.

What other outcome is this all going to have but players who do not look further than the surface? Who miss and ignore little details they have been trained to think do not matter and largely do not inform the broader story and characters? Players who are easily stumped on puzzles because they were not allowed to figure anything else out by themselves?

Are you going to claim that the Orzammar questline in Origins didn't teach anybody a lesson about paying close attention to the social structures and culture of a society when you pick the person who's going to rule it, as opposed to picking the guy who the narrative frames as wise and kind and the other guy framed as a power hungry third child? Are you going to claim that the Archon choice teaches anything remotely as useful?

Like!!!!

GOD

Inquisition had plenty of this stupid handholding too btw. You can argue all of the games had it by degrees. but it wasn't even remotely this bad.

[haedia]

Kiore "Rook" Aldwir does have parents. In fact, she has several family members still alive. And aside from a few close calls when all hell breaks loose across Thedas during the events leading up to the end, they make it through.

Another long thing about Kiore under the cut.

Kiore's from a Dalish clan that had to relocate south of the Minanter River when the Antaam came to play in northern Thedas.

Her family tends a herd of harts that travel with the clan. The harts may not be as smart as halla but they're still intelligent creatures and are used as mounts for the hunters and others.

Kiore's father is one of the head shepherds/herders. He's a kind-hearted, patient man with a quiet demeanor but a very quick wit. He often surprises people with his humor -- he tends to lull people into a sense of ease so when he shows his wit, it can be startling. It's easy to dismiss him as a more simple man because of how calm and unassuming he is. But he's very observant and he often startled both of his children with his awareness, as they were growing up. Many times, Kiore and her brother Ren though they'd successfully gotten away with something when their hopes were dashed by their father's keen eye.

Of course, he could be stern. He can command attention when needed, in ways that brook no argument. But he did his best to teach and correct without force. Same as he did with the creatures he tended in the forests and fields.

Kiore's mother, by contrast, can fill a space with the earnestness of her smile alone. She's not loud, exactly, but very full of life. She appreciates the life she has, where she has it. She's seen loss (she's from another clan that lost several members due to an attack by Tevinter slavers) and is fiercely protective of the life and happiness she's been able to build. This fierceness can make her overprotective at times. Or, at least, it did when Kiore and her brother were growing up. Their father has helped mellow her out in this regard, though she does kind of lose her mind a bit when she finds out about Kiore's entanglement with their gods. Just a little bit though. (just kidding, but she at least keeps the absolute freakout between her and her husband)

She assists her husband with the harts at times, though she's one of the clan's artisans by craft. She's a weaver, spinner, and sometimes leatherworker. She sings or hums while she works. She also plays a few different instruments and taught her children them as well. Outside of her craft, no one thing can hold her attention for long, though she does return to her interests after a time. This curiosity and penchant for exploring new interests rubbed off on Kiore as she grew. Her mother always encouraged her to indulge in her curiosity and desire to discover.

Kiore's parents kind of knew for a long while that her desires would eventually take her somewhere away from the clan. Her brother stayed and is one of the clan's hunters and scouts. But Kiore? Kiore was stricken by wanderlust and a need to learn beyond what the clan could teach.

After meeting a member of the Veil Jumpers during a clansmeet one summer, she decided that she wanted to join them. She and her mother butted heads over it. Eventually, though, her father calmed her mother enough that she relented and told Kiore she could go to Arlathan.

Kiore was plenty old enough that she could have just left anyway but she'd rather have her parents' blessing for something like that. She respects and cares for her family.

Overall, they're on good terms and try to keep in touch. But, delivering mail to a traveling group isn't the easiest thing to do, so correspondence can be intermittent at times. That doesn't improve when Kiore ends up with Varric and Harding. Although, with the Lighthouse and the Vi'Revas, Kiore has the means to visit nearby again, thanks to the clan settling for a time near a ruin that contains an intact eluvian.

Eventually, Kiore takes Lucanis to meet the clan. He's nervous about it. His family situation is, of course, uh, not a standard one by any measure and as a result, he doesn't have the best framework for interacting with a more functional family unit. He's anxious before they go. He's heard some about the clan from Kiore and he wants to make a good impression.

There's a bit of awkwardness at first, but no more than when anyone is meeting a family. Ren and their father clock Lucanis as something much more than a regular guy almost immediately. Ren picks up on the spirit/demon thing practically the moment he sees Lucanis, since he's a little sensitive to that kind of thing (though he's not a mage). And they both notice his movements and how he observes his environment, putting the pieces together from that and other context given from Kiore, they realize that he's probably a very dangerous man in different circumstances.

But once they all get talking, things even out. Lucanis is accepted into the clan soon after. It's the first time he's experienced such a warm family connection and he's overwhelmed by it. But, he gets excited to visit again -- making plans to cook an absolutely massive amount of paella or something for his love's family. He wants to show his appreciation for their hospitality and acceptance.

Later, after the world is saved and recovery is underway, Kiore and Lucanis return more regularly. There are weddings to plan. Both a Dalish ceremony performed in their newly reclaimed homelands (after the healing of the veil and ousting of the Antaam, the clan is able to return to their original lands) and an Antivan ceremony near Treviso, on one of the Dellamorte country estates. There will be overlap in the guest list at both events, of course. It's not like one is Dalish-only and the other Crow-only. But Lucanis wouldn't want Kiore's roots to be diminished by having a ceremony that mostly catered to his culture, in or around his hometown.

Kiore's family is surprised by the care and consideration Lucanis gives to her history and culture but they are grateful and pleased by it, too. As a result, Lucanis earns himself a place of love and respect within her family and the clan as a whole.

I just really like Kiore's family and clan. And plopping Lucanis down in that mess of respect and love? Yes please. Marinate that man in a healthy family dynamic!

Heeey Howdy! 🤠 Happy Friday!

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

1/24/25– I schedule the RIH posts out one per hour between 8:30 am - 10:30 pm MST. I already have posts scheduled out for most of the day today, so your rbs will be a bit delayed! Thank you for your patience !

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook have parents? If not, surrogate parental figures/mentors? Do they like them? Do they resent them? Are Rook’s parental figures proud of them? Do they talk to them regularly? Have or will they meet your Rook’s LI or the other members of the Veilguard?

Answer as much or as little as you like! Have fun?

[alas--pringles]

Mountain fans- always looking for visual crumbs of their favorite

Rain fans- always listening for audible crumbs of their favorite 😭

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Larks and Being Sick

Cole

Will still try to push themself to perform, but even they have their limits

Conks the hell out when they’re sick, and they’ll sleep for hours (Perrine thought they died once)

Loses their voice. Thinks they’ll never be able to sing again.

Hand tremors won’t let them play their instrument

Gets flustered easily with a lot of affection and care (like if they have to be spoon fed because they’re too weak to hold a bowl themself)

Tries to deter cuddles because they don’t want to get anyone else sick

Emetophobic, and ends up making themself more sick by stressing out over possibly throwing up

Clementine

Super cuddly when they’re sick (usually SOMEONE gets sick after them because they were cuddling)

Mainly because they get really bad chills, so they just want to snuggle up to someone to keep warm

Quiet and mumbly

However, they will ramble deliriously when their fever gets too high

PILED with blankets (which Perrine will have to confiscate so they don’t get overheated, much to their dismay)

Kingsley

A big whiny baby when he’s sick

SUPER overdramatic

“I’M DYING!!!” “You have a cold.”

There’s sometimes a little bit of a “boy who cried wolf” situation with him, where he dramatizes how sick he is, but the others would never leave him to fend for himself, even after all the stuff he pulls for fun

When he has to be spoon fed because he’s too weak from the sickness, he’ll somehow find the strength to make a joke like “chop, chop, peasant!” (Perrine once considered pouring the water she was helping him drink over him)

When he’s really sick, he’s super lethargic, and it’s jarring to see him so worn out when he’s usually the most energetic in the group

Likes to lay his head into the lap of one of the others so they’ll play with his hair, soothing him

Will sometimes force himself into the lap of one of the others (mainly Perrine because she’s the big sibling of the group)

Perrine

Hates being taken care of, so she will act like she’s perfectly fine (she’s not)

Will refuse any and all help until she physically can’t move anymore—and even then, she’ll be stubborn

Pulls out the “but I’m the oldest!” card whenever anyone tries to take care of her

“You’re sick.” “No, I’m not.” “You’re burning up.” “I’m naturally warm.” “You’re shaking.” “It’s just a little cold.” “You literally just threw up.” “I meant to do that.”

She worries about the others when she’s sick in bed. What if something happens? What if they burn the house down while cooking?

Cuddly when she’s ill, but she doesn’t go out of her way to ask for any affection. However, she certainly won’t refuse any…

Easily becomes a little stir crazy from laying in bed. She also gets bored fast. She’s wasting so much time just laying around!

Wears her mask 24/7 to hide how pale and flushed she is from fever (the mask is making her sweat bullets)

Once threw up on stage and then passed out mid-performance because she underestimated how bad she felt (everyone was in a state of shock. she had to be dragged offstage by Cole and Clementine while Kingsley distracted the crowd)

Another time she was making breakfast for the group and fainted, and when she woke up, she was covered in oatmeal from managing to bring the bowl down with her

Would rather starve or die of dehydration than have one of the others spoon feed her

One time, ALL of the kids were sick at once, but Perrine pushed through it to take care of the others (she felt like death after, but anything for her friends)

[pinkmoontaco]

Melodies of Us || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Woozi x Pianist Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance, Childhood crush Summary: 'Melodies of Us' follows Woozi, a seventeen member, a music producer, and Y/N, a pianist, as they reconnect after years apart. Despite facing public scrutiny and the pressures of fame, their love grows stronger. After a brief separation to navigate the challenges of their careers, they reunite, learning to trust and support each other through the highs and lows, with music always being the backdrop of their shared journey. Authors note: Hi everyone! I’ve poured my heart into writing this story, inspired by the Woozi video one of you recommended. Your love and support mean the world to me, so please give it a lot of love and share your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback truly inspires me to keep creating and improving. I’d love to know what you think and hear your favorite moments from the story! Love you guys!!!

Shoutout to @am-injel for recommending the video

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

The small music room at the edge of the middle school was a hidden corner where Jihoon often escaped. It wasn’t because he was shy—though he wasn’t the loudest kid in the class—but because he liked the calmness. Playing the piano, even just practicing scales, was his way of unwinding.

One afternoon, as he pushed the door open, he paused. Someone was already there.

It was Y/N.

She sat on the wobbly piano bench, poking at the keys in a rhythm that sounded more like an experiment than a song. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up, her bag on the floor, and her focus entirely on the instrument. Jihoon recognized her immediately—she was a year ahead, a popular "noona" everyone seemed to know.

“Noona?” Jihoon said hesitantly.

Y/N turned, surprised. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone else came here.”

Y/N tilted her head, “You know, I’ve seen you around. You’re Jihoon, right? The guy who’s always with his guitar.”

He nodded, surprised she even remembered his name. “Yeah… That’s me.”

Jihoon hesitated. “It’s usually empty.” He stepped inside, looking at her curiously. “Do you play?”

“Not really,” Y/N admitted with a small laugh. “I just wanted to try it. But…” She pressed a few keys randomly. “I don’t think I’m any good.”

Jihoon moved closer, his fingers twitching with the urge to correct her posture. “You’re pressing too hard,” he said. “Here.”

Without waiting for permission, he leaned down slightly, guiding her fingers to the correct placement. Y/N followed his instruction, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Like this?” she asked.

Jihoon nodded. “Yeah, noona. That’s better.”

She grinned at him. “You’re good at this, Jihoon. Do you come here often?”

“Almost every day,” he said quietly, still a bit shy under her bright gaze.

“Then maybe you can teach me?” she asked, her voice teasing but warm.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... if you want.”

A few weeks later, Jihoon was standing on the baseball field, glove in hand.

Jihoon caught a glimpse of Y/N standing near the sidelines. She wasn’t supposed to be there—it was a middle school practice, after all—but she was watching him, waving with a wide smile.

“Noona’s here?” Jihoon muttered under his breath, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Let’s go, Jihoon!” Y/N called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Show them what you’ve got!”

The teasing tone in her voice made him blush, with her watching, he couldn’t afford to mess up.

The game was intense, and Jihoon did his best to focus, blocking out the awkward feeling of Y/N watching him. He managed to catch the ball each time, despite his initial hesitation.

When practice ended, Jihoon walked over to her, brushing dirt off his uniform. “What are you doing here, noona?”

“I was curious,” she said with a shrug. “And I wanted to see you play.”

“Me?” Jihoon asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t know you were this good at baseball too.” Her grin was wide and sincere.

Jihoon scratched the back of his neck, feeling warmth creep up his face. “I’m not that good...”

“You are,” Y/N said, leaning forward slightly. “You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”

That evening, as Jihoon walked home, he couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laughter and the way she’d called his name from the sidelines. For a boy who kept most things to himself, her presence was like a bright light in his quiet world.

And though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he hoped Y/N would show up again—at the piano, at the field, or anywhere else he could catch her smile.

A few days after the baseball game, Jihoon returned to the music room after school. He expected the usual silence, but when he opened the door, Y/N was already there. She sat on the piano bench, her fingers lightly brushing the keys, as if she were waiting for him.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, surprised. “You’re here again?”

Y/N looked up, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I figured my teacher might show up, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to learn.”

Jihoon flushed. “I’m not your teacher…”

“Sure you are,” she teased, patting the bench beside her. “Come on. Show me something new.”

He hesitated before sitting down, careful to leave a bit of space between them. “Did you practice what I showed you last time?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, though the sheepish look on her face told him otherwise. “Kind of? But I think I need a lot more practice. You’re way better at this.”

Jihoon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Okay, noona. Let’s try again.”

As he guided her through the basics, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were. Her laughter filled the room whenever she hit the wrong key, and her determination to get it right made him smile. She wasn’t like anyone he’d met before—confident yet patient, teasing yet kind.

A week later, Y/N showed up at another one of Jihoon’s baseball practices.

“Are you going to be at every game now?” Jihoon asked as he approached her during a water break.

“Maybe,” she said with a playful shrug. “I like watching you play. It’s fun seeing you so focused.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Noona, you’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s my job,” Y/N said, grinning.

Jihoon glanced at his teammates, who were watching the interaction with curious smirks. He could already hear the teasing they’d throw at him later, but for some reason, he didn’t mind.

“Fine,” Jihoon said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t cheer too loud next time.”

“No promises,” she replied, sticking out her tongue.

As spring turned into summer, Y/N and Jihoon began spending more time together. She would wait for him after practice, chatting about her day as they walked home. Sometimes, they stopped by the corner store to share ice cream, sitting on the curb as the sun dipped below the horizon.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jihoon and Y/N sat on the school steps, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink.

“Jihoon,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

“Hmm?” he murmured, resting his chin on his knees.

“Do you ever think about what you want to do when you grow up?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe something with music. Or baseball. I haven’t really decided.”

She smiled, tilting her head to look at him. “I think you’ll be great at whatever you choose. You’re the kind of person who works hard for what they want.”

Jihoon turned his head, surprised by her words. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. “You’re pretty amazing, Jihoon.”

His face grew warm, and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Thanks, noona.”

As they sat there in the fading light, Jihoon realized something: he didn’t just enjoy spending time with Y/N—he looked forward to it. Her presence made the quiet moments brighter and the loud ones more bearable.

Summer break had arrived, and with it came long, lazy days and the warmth of the sun. Jihoon thought it would mean fewer chances to see Y/N, but she surprised him one morning by showing up at the school baseball field during practice.

“Noona, don’t you have anything better to do?” Jihoon called out as she leaned against the fence, waving at him.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I’m on summer break too, you know. And besides…” She grinned. “You’re the most entertaining thing around here.”

Jihoon shook his head, turning back to the field. He tried to focus on practice, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole time. When the coach finally called for a break, Jihoon jogged over to where she was sitting on the bleachers.

“Did you come all the way here just to watch me?” he asked, catching his breath.

“Maybe,” Y/N teased, holding up a bottle of water. “Here, you look like you need this.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking it. He hesitated before adding, “You didn’t have to come, though.”

“I wanted to,” she said simply, her tone sincere.

Jihoon didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t used to people going out of their way for him.

Later that week, Y/N invited Jihoon to join her at the park. It was a warm afternoon, and they found a spot under the shade of a large tree. Y/N had brought a picnic blanket and snacks, and Jihoon had brought his baseball glove, just in case.

“Noona, you really don’t get tired of hanging out with me?” Jihoon asked as he tossed a baseball into the air and caught it.

“Nope,” she said, lying on her back and looking up at the sky. “Why? Are you tired of me?”

“No!” Jihoon blurted out, sitting up straighter. “I mean… no, I’m not.”

Y/N laughed, sitting up and leaning her chin on her knees. “You’re fun to be around, Jihoon. Even if you’re quiet.”

“I’m not that fun,” he muttered, looking down at the ball in his hands.

“You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re hardworking, talented, and you care about the things that matter to you. That’s why I like spending time with you.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at her, her expression warm and sincere, and felt the familiar flutter in his chest.

“Thanks, noona,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, smiling brightly.

As the summer days passed, Jihoon found himself growing more and more comfortable around Y/N. She became a constant presence in his life, showing up to his practices, sharing snacks at the park, and even challenging him to board games at her house.

But one evening, as they sat on the swings at the park, Jihoon couldn’t keep the question inside anymore.

“Noona,” he began, his voice hesitant.

“Yeah?” Y/N replied, gently swaying back and forth.

“Why do you spend so much time with me?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ground.

She stopped swinging and looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “Because I like being around you, Jihoon. You’re different from everyone else. You’re honest, and you make me feel… calm.”

“Calm?” Jihoon repeated, finally looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “Like I can just be myself when I’m with you. No pretending, no pressure. Just… me.”

Jihoon didn’t know what to say to that. His chest felt tight, and his hands gripped the chains of the swing a little harder.

“You’re special to me, Jihoon,” Y/N added, her voice gentle.

Jihoon’s breath caught. He wanted to say something back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded, hoping she could see how much her words meant to him.

That night, as Jihoon lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her laughter, and the way she made the world feel just a little bit brighter.

For the first time, he let himself admit what he’d been feeling all along.

He liked her.

The news came unexpectedly.

Jihoon had always been good at music and baseball, but he never thought those talents would lead to something bigger. So when a company scout came to his school after hearing about his musical abilities and offered him a chance to audition as a trainee, Jihoon was stunned.

“Seoul?” he repeated, sitting across from his parents at the dinner table. “They want me to move to Seoul?”

His mother nodded, her expression a mix of pride and worry. “It’s a big opportunity, Jihoon. But it’s also a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Jihoon hesitated. He thought about his small town, his school, his friends. And then, he thought about Y/N.

“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, retreating to his room.

The next day, Jihoon found himself in the music room after school, nervously tapping his fingers against the piano keys. He had texted Y/N to meet him there, and now he was waiting, unsure of how to tell her.

When Y/N walked in, she immediately noticed his tense posture. “Jihoon, what’s wrong?”

He looked up, his heart sinking at the concern in her eyes. “Noona, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him on the bench. “What is it?”

“I got an offer,” Jihoon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To go to Seoul. To become a trainee at a company.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? Jihoon, that’s amazing!”

He glanced at her, surprised. “You think so?”

“Of course!” she said, grabbing his hand without thinking. “This is huge, Jihoon. You’re so talented. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“But…” Jihoon hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “It means I’d have to leave. I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, and for a moment, there was silence.

“When would you leave?” she asked softly.

“Next month,” he admitted. “If I decide to go.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “Jihoon, I won’t lie—it’ll be hard not having you here. But this is your dream, isn’t it?”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I think so. But I don’t want to leave you, noona.”

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced a smile. “Jihoon, you can’t let that stop you. You’re going to do amazing things, and I’ll always be here cheering for you, no matter where you are.”

He looked up at her, his eyes glistening. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, holding out her pinky.

Jihoon hesitated before linking his pinky with hers. “I’ll miss you, noona.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said softly.

The day Jihoon left for Seoul was bittersweet. His parents dropped him off at the train station, and Y/N was there, standing a little apart from the crowd.

Jihoon walked over to her, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Noona,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Jihoon,” she replied, her smile wavering.

For a moment, they just stood there, neither wanting to say goodbye. Finally, Y/N reached out and pulled him into a hug.

“Work hard,” she whispered. “And don’t forget to eat. You’re terrible at remembering that.”

Jihoon chuckled, though it sounded more like a sob. “I won’t forget.”

She pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Jihoon. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, noona,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat.

As the train pulled into the station, Jihoon reluctantly let go of her and stepped onto the platform. He turned back one last time, waving as the train doors closed.

Y/N waved back, her smile bright even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

In Seoul, Jihoon threw himself into training. The days were long, the competition fierce, and the pressure overwhelming. But every time he felt like giving up, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her encouragement, and the promise they had made.

He worked harder, knowing she was rooting for him from afar.

Years passed, and Jihoon’s dream of becoming a successful musician became a reality. After years of hard training, countless auditions, and endless performances, he had finally made it. As a member of the group that was taking the world by storm, his name was now known, his face recognized, and his music appreciated.

But despite the fame and the accolades, something was missing.

It had been years since he last saw Y/N. The memory of her smile, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her words always lingered in his mind. And so, one cold winter evening, Jihoon made a decision.

He would go back to his hometown, the place where it all began—the place where he had first met Y/N, the place that felt both familiar and distant now.

Jihoon stood in front of his old school, the place where he had once walked the halls as a shy, aspiring student. The building was quieter now, its paint chipped, and the playground that once hosted their after-school games seemed smaller than he remembered. But everything still felt... comforting.

He walked through the gates, a rush of memories flooding his mind. He could almost hear the sound of the baseball hitting the bat, the feel of the piano keys beneath his fingers. And then, he remembered Y/N.

He thought he would find her here, that she might still be in this place, still waiting to see him, just like he had always imagined.

With each step, his heart beat faster, hope rising in his chest. Maybe she was still living in the same neighborhood, or perhaps she had stayed in touch with some of their old friends.

But when he asked around, no one seemed to know where she was.

“I think she moved a while ago,” one of his old classmates said when Jihoon mentioned Y/N. “She went to college in Seoul, and after that, I’m not sure.”

Jihoon’s heart sank. He had hoped, even just for a moment, that he would find her here, in the place where it all started. He wandered around the familiar streets, searching for any trace of her.

But there was nothing.

The next day, Jihoon stood in front of the old piano at his middle school, his fingers lightly brushing the keys. The room was empty now, no longer the sanctuary it once was. It felt so different without Y/N’s presence, without her laughter echoing through the space.

“I thought I would find you here,” Jihoon whispered to no one in particular, his voice lost in the quiet of the room.

He closed his eyes, thinking back to those days when everything was simpler, when Y/N had been the one person who had made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the world.

He never expected fame to come so quickly, or for it to be so isolating. But as he stood in that quiet music room, Jihoon realized something: No matter how much time passed, no matter how many accomplishments he achieved, there was one thing he could never replace.

The feeling of being understood.

The warmth of her presence.

He missed her more than he had ever realized.

The following days were a blur. Jihoon returned to Seoul, unable to shake the emptiness that lingered in his chest. He threw himself into his work, but it was harder than ever to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the girl he had left behind—the girl who had believed in him before anyone else had.

He wondered if she still thought about him.

Did she remember their pinky promise?

The thought that maybe she had forgotten him haunted him, but he couldn’t let go of the hope that their paths might cross again one day.

Months later, Jihoon was at a variety show, doing an interview with his members. They were talking about their past, their training days, and their dreams. When it came time for Jihoon to answer a question, the host asked, “Jihoon, you’ve come a long way from your hometown. Is there anyone there you still keep in touch with?”

Jihoon paused, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t really talked about Y/N in years. His throat tightened as he thought about her.

“I… I had a friend,” he began, his voice soft. “She was someone who really believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was always there, even when I didn’t realize it.”

The other members looked at him curiously, but Jihoon didn’t continue. He didn’t need to explain everything. His mind had already drifted back to that quiet music room, the park, the baseball field—every place where Y/N had once been.

He smiled, even though there was a bittersweet ache in his chest. He might not have found her in his hometown, but he knew that no matter where she was now, she would always be a part of who he had become.

Months had passed the group’s schedule was packed, but one evening, Jihoon’s mind was still on the past as he attended a musical performance with Hoshi.

It had been an impromptu decision—Hoshi had mentioned wanting to go see a musical, and Jihoon, needing a break from his usual routine, agreed to tag along. It wasn’t something he had planned on, but he thought a night out might give him a chance to clear his mind.

The theater was elegant, the grand chandelier casting soft light over the crowded room as they found their seats. Jihoon’s thoughts wandered during the first act, but something shifted when the curtain rose for the second.

On stage, bathed in a spotlight, sat a familiar figure—her fingers dancing over the keys of a grand piano. It was a moment of pure magic, the soft music filling the room and touching something deep within Jihoon’s heart. He blinked, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But when she turned slightly, her face illuminated by the stage lights, Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat.

It was Y/N.

He sat there, frozen, his breath catching in his chest. She was performing, and she was incredible. Her fingers moved with such grace, every note she played perfectly in sync with the orchestra behind her. It was clear she had been practicing, honing her skill all these years.

Hoshi nudged him with a grin. “Jihoon, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jihoon barely heard him. His eyes were locked on Y/N, who was lost in her music, oblivious to the audience. The whole room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of the piano and the girl he had once known.

After the performance, Jihoon couldn’t sit still. He had to see her, talk to her, just to know that she was real, that she was still out there, living her dream.

As the crowd began to disperse, Jihoon and Hoshi made their way backstage, where they were told to wait for the performers. Jihoon paced nervously, unsure of what to say. What if Y/N had changed? What if she didn’t remember him?

But when the door opened and Y/N stepped into view, her face lit up with recognition.

“Jihoon?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with disbelief.

Jihoon’s heart thudded in his chest. “Noona… it’s really you.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face, a small smile slowly forming as she took a step closer. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Jihoon. I thought you were busy with… well, everything you’ve been doing.”

“I… I didn’t expect to see you either,” Jihoon admitted, his voice shaky. “I had no idea you were a pianist in a musical now.”

Y/N laughed, the sound so familiar that it felt like a weight lifting off Jihoon’s shoulders. “I’ve been busy too, you know? After college, I decided to pursue music full-time. This is where I ended up.”

Jihoon smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “You’re amazing, noona. I didn’t know you were this talented.”

Her cheeks flushed a little, and she looked away modestly. “Thanks, Jihoon. But what about you? Look at you now. I saw your performance on TV. You’re incredible. You’ve really made it.”

Jihoon shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to her praise. “I guess so. But I’ve been thinking about you a lot. About… us.”

Y/N’s smile faded a little as she looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Jihoon…”

He swallowed, nervous. “I went back to our hometown a while ago, hoping to find you. I kept asking around, but… no one knew where you were. I thought maybe you had moved on, or that I had forgotten you…”

Y/N shook her head, her hand gently reaching for his. “I never forgot you, Jihoon. I always wondered what happened to you. But I guess I just thought you were too busy to even remember me.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words. “Noona, I never forgot you. I could never forget you.”

There was a long pause as they both stood there, the years of silence between them suddenly feeling very heavy. But as Jihoon looked into her eyes, he realized that despite everything that had changed, some things remained the same. The bond they shared, the connection they had, it was still there, still burning bright beneath the surface.

“I was hoping… maybe we could catch up?" Jihoon said.

Y/N smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up. “I’d like that. I’ve missed you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart raced as he nodded. “I’ve missed you too, noona.”

Over the next few weeks, Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. They spent time reminiscing about their school days, about the late-night talks, the shared dreams, and the small moments that had meant so much.

Y/N told Jihoon about her journey into music, about how she had struggled and worked her way up to become a pianist in the musical. Jihoon shared his own story, about the hardships of being a trainee, the sacrifices he had made, and the loneliness that often came with fame.

Through it all, they never once lost the connection they had.

One evening, after another performance, Jihoon walked Y/N back to her apartment. As they stood outside the door, Jihoon hesitated before speaking.

“Noona…” he began, his voice tentative.

Y/N looked at him, her gaze soft. “What is it, Jihoon?”

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this—” He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I want you to be a part of it. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her heart fluttering in her chest. She smiled, her hand gently resting on his. “You won’t lose me, Jihoon.”

Weeks passed since Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. Their lives had been different since their youth, but some things never changed—the way they talked for hours without getting bored, the way they understood each other without needing to say much. The connection they once shared had only grown stronger, and now that they were both pursuing their dreams, it felt like fate had brought them back together.

One day, Jihoon invited Y/N to visit his studio. It had been a while since they had spent time in private, just the two of them.

Y/N arrived in the afternoon, and as soon as she stepped into the studio, she was greeted by the familiar hum of creativity. There were soundboards, microphones, and instruments everywhere. She could smell the faint scent of coffee in the air and the sound of a few tracks playing softly in the background.

“Wow,” she whispered, looking around in awe. “This is incredible.”

Jihoon grinned, proud of the space he had helped create. “It’s not much, but it’s home. For now, anyway.”

Y/N laughed, sitting down on the leather couch against the wall. “This is amazing, Jihoon. I can see how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

Jihoon sat beside her, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s a lot more work than I ever expected. Some days, it’s easy to forget what I’m even working for.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression soft and understanding. “I get it. It’s hard when your dream becomes your reality, and it feels like you’re just moving from one task to the next. But I know you’re doing this because you love it. I can see that in every note you play, every song you write.”

Jihoon looked at her, the sincerity in her voice touching him more than words could express. “Thanks, noona.”

After a while, Y/N stood up and walked toward the grand piano in the corner of the room. Jihoon had made sure it was a perfect space for creativity, and now, it seemed like the right moment for her to play.

“Do you mind if I play for a bit?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she approached the piano.

Jihoon shook his head, a smile on his face. “Of course not. This is your space too.”

Y/N sat down at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys before she began to play a soft, intricate melody. The music filled the room, and Jihoon stood, mesmerized by the way her hands moved across the keys with effortless grace.

The piece she played was familiar to him, one she had often played back when they were younger. He smiled as the sound brought back so many memories—the late nights at their school, playing together and dreaming of the future.

“This one,” Jihoon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I remember this.”

Y/N smiled as she finished the piece, her fingers slowly coming to a stop. “You always loved this one. We played it together when we were younger.”

Jihoon nodded, his heart full as he sat beside her. “It feels like no time has passed. Your playing... it’s like you never stopped.”

Y/N’s smile softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I didn’t stop. I just... took a different path. But music is still with me. It always will be.”

Jihoon’s gaze lingered on her, the quiet weight of their shared history filling the space. “I’ve missed hearing you play.”

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed playing for someone who understands.”

They sat together for a while, talking about the past and sharing their experiences. Y/N told Jihoon about her journey, the challenges of becoming a professional pianist in a competitive world, and how she had found herself in the world of musicals. Jihoon shared his own story, about the years of hard work and struggles as a trainee, the sacrifices he had made to make it this far, and the loneliness that often came with being in the spotlight.

Later, Jihoon decided to show Y/N some of his work. “Do you want to hear some of my recent songs?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course. I’d love to.”

Jihoon sat at the piano, playing the melody of one of the songs he’d written. Y/N listened intently, her fingers tapping the rhythm against her knee.

“You’re really good at this, Jihoon,” Y/N said after the song ended. “You’ve come a long way since we were kids.”

Jihoon smiled, though his thoughts were a bit more complicated. “You were always my inspiration, noona. I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for you.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she leaned back and looked at Jihoon thoughtfully. “I’m proud of you, Jihoon. You’ve made it, even when things got tough. I’m happy we reconnected. I’ve always wanted the best for you.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words, and he looked at her, his gaze soft. “I’m glad we found each other again.”

The evening eventually came to an end, and Y/N stood to leave, the night air cooling as she prepared to go back to her own busy life.

“Thanks for coming today, noona,” Jihoon said quietly.

Y/N smiled warmly. “Anytime. I’ll always be here when you need me, Jihoon. I’m proud of you, you know?”

Jihoon smiled back, though his heart felt a little heavy. “I’m proud of you too, noona. I’ve missed you.”

As Y/N stepped out into the night, Jihoon stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her disappear into the distance. He felt a sense of peace settle over him. They were both walking their own paths now, but they had found each other again. And that was all that mattered.

Jihoon couldn’t shake the feeling that their reconnection was only the beginning of something more. Days turned into weeks, and although both of their schedules were packed, they made an effort to keep in touch. Texts, late-night calls, and the occasional lunch break together kept their bond alive.

One afternoon, Jihoon found himself scrolling through his phone, looking at the messages he’d exchanged with Y/N. Her encouragement lingered in his mind, and he realized he hadn’t seen her perform since the day they met again at the musical show.

He texted her on impulse:

Jihoon:

Noona, when’s your next performance?

It didn’t take long for a reply to come through.

Y/N:

This Saturday. It’s a small recital for a local charity event. Why?

Jihoon:

Can I come?

Her response came after a pause, but it was filled with warmth:

Y/N:

Of course. I’d love for you to be there.

Saturday evening, Jihoon arrived at the venue, a cozy yet elegant hall filled with an intimate crowd. He wore a mask and cap to avoid drawing attention, but even so, a few fans recognized him and whispered excitedly. He slipped into a seat near the back, his heart racing slightly as he waited for Y/N to take the stage.

When she finally appeared, Jihoon felt his breath catch. She looked calm and radiant, her confidence shining through as she walked to the grand piano at center stage. She bowed to the audience before sitting down, her fingers poised over the keys.

The music began softly, a gentle, melancholic melody that filled the room. Jihoon could see her expression as she played, completely absorbed in the moment. Her emotions poured into each note, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration for her.

As the final chord echoed through the hall, the audience erupted in applause. Jihoon clapped as well, his hands stinging from the force. He was proud—prouder than words could express.

Jihoon waited for the crowd to disperse before heading backstage. He found Y/N chatting with a few other performers, her smile warm and genuine as she thanked them for their kind words.

When her eyes met Jihoon’s, her face lit up. “Jihoon!”

She excused herself and walked over to him. “You came.”

“Of course,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “You were amazing, noona. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Y/N laughed, a hint of embarrassment in her expression. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before pulling out a small bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back. “These are for you. You deserve it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jihoon, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve always supported me. It’s my turn now.”

Y/N took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This really means a lot.”

The following week, Y/N visited Jihoon’s studio again, this time bringing her own sheet music.

“I thought we could try something new,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve been working on this piece, and I’d love your input.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me to help?”

“You’re a genius when it comes to music,” Y/N replied, her tone playful. “Who better to collaborate with?”

They spent hours in the studio, blending her piano compositions with Jihoon’s production expertise. The room buzzed with creative energy as they worked together, bouncing ideas off each other and experimenting with different sounds.

At one point, Jihoon paused and looked at her. “This feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

Y/N smiled, her hands resting on the piano keys. “It does. I never thought we’d get to do this again.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze softening. “I’m glad we found our way back to this. Back to each other.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

As the evening turned into night, Y/N prepared to leave, but before she could step out the door, Jihoon stopped her.

“Noona,” he said, his voice hesitant but determined.

She turned to face him, curiosity in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve both been busy, and our lives are complicated, but…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose touch with you again. Not ever.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she stepped closer. “You won’t, Jihoon. I promise.”

He smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. “Good. Because having you here, in my life, it feels right.”

Y/N looked at him, her own emotions reflected in her gaze. “It feels right for me too.”

As they stood there, the silence between them spoke louder than words. Their journey had come full circle, and though they didn’t know what the future held, they knew they would face it together.

Hoshi couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The moment he learned about Jihoon and Y/N reconnecting, he shared the news with the other Seventeen members. The group was thrilled, especially after hearing countless stories about Y/N from Jihoon during their trainee days.

“Wait, is this the Y/N noona?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes wide.

“The one he couldn’t stop talking about?” Vernon added, smirking.

Joshua leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Jihoon, why didn’t you tell us you met her again?”

Jihoon groaned, sinking into the couch in their dorm. “Because it’s none of your business.”

Hoshi clapped Jihoon on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, hyung, don’t be like that! We’re practically family. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us.”

Mingyu chimed in, “We have to meet her. No excuses.”

“No,” Jihoon said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s not ready for that kind of chaos.”

“Too bad,” Jeonghan said with a sly smile. “We’re making it happen.”

Jihoon had barely stepped into the studio the next day when he got a text from Hoshi:

Hoshi:

We’re on our way. Don’t freak out.

Jihoon’s heart sank. He immediately called Hoshi, but the call went unanswered. Moments later, a knock sounded at the studio door. Jihoon sighed, bracing himself as he opened it.

Hoshi stood there, grinning, with Y/N by his side. Behind them, half the members were peeking around the corner, trying to stay hidden but failing miserably.

“Hoshi…” Jihoon started, glaring at his friend.

“Surprise!” Hoshi said, pushing the door open wider. “Y/N noona, meet the family!”

Y/N laughed nervously, looking at Jihoon. “I guess I didn’t have a choice in this, huh?”

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, you didn’t. I didn’t either.”

Once inside, the introductions began. Y/N was polite and warm, but Jihoon couldn’t help but notice her slight nervousness as she met each member.

“Hi, I’m Seungkwan,” Seungkwan said, bowing dramatically. “I’ve heard so much about you. Jihoon hyung used to talk about you all the time.”

“Did not,” Jihoon muttered, earning chuckles from the group.

“Yes, you did!” Hoshi said, grinning. “You told us about how she used to cheer for you at baseball games and play piano for you when you were stressed.”

Y/N smiled at Jihoon. “You talked about me?”

Jihoon’s ears turned red, and he avoided her gaze. “It’s not like that. They’re exaggerating.”

Mingyu stepped forward, towering over both Jihoon and Y/N. “I’m Mingyu. It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve all been curious about the legendary Y/N noona.”

“Legendary?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua chuckled. “In Jihoon’s words, you were his first inspiration.”

Jihoon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N laughed softly, her nervousness easing as she saw Jihoon’s flustered reaction. “It’s okay, Jihoon. I’m flattered.”

The members quickly made themselves comfortable, and before long, the studio was filled with laughter and conversation. Y/N shared stories from her past with Jihoon, which the members eagerly soaked up.

“Wait, you were there for Jihoon’s first baseball game?” Dino asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N nodded. “I was. He struck out the first time he played, but by the end of the game, he hit a home run. I’ve never seen him look so proud.”

Jihoon sighed, his face flushed. “Can we not talk about that?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan teased. “It’s a great story!”

As the evening wore on, Y/N found herself growing more comfortable around the members. They were warm, funny, and clearly cared deeply for Jihoon. It made her happy to see him surrounded by people who supported him so wholeheartedly.

When the members finally decided to leave, Hoshi turned to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “Noona, you’re part of the family now. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll try not to be.”

After everyone left, the studio felt quieter, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N and Jihoon sat together, the energy from earlier still lingering in the air.

“Sorry about them,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re a bit much.”

“They’re wonderful,” Y/N replied, her voice soft. “It’s clear they care about you a lot. You’re lucky to have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I am. But... I’m luckier to have you back in my life.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she smiled. “I’m lucky too, Jihoon.”

They sat in silence for a while, the unspoken bond between them stronger than ever. Jihoon knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wouldn’t face them alone.

The weeks after Y/N’s first meeting with the Seventeen members were filled with an easy rhythm of shared time. Jihoon and Y/N grew closer, finding moments between their busy schedules to meet. She was even starting to get used to the members’ playful teasing whenever she visited their dorm or joined them at the studio.

One afternoon, Jihoon invited Y/N to his studio again, but this time, the space was quieter—just the two of them.

“Thanks for making time to come today, noona,” Jihoon said, setting down two cups of coffee on the small table.

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers lightly over the keys of the studio’s piano. “Of course. You’ve been so busy lately, I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

Jihoon sat across from her, his expression earnest. “Never. I just... needed to find the right moment. There’s something I’ve been working on, and I want you to hear it.”

Jihoon walked over to his computer, pulling up a file on his production software. He hesitated for a moment before pressing play.

The room filled with a soft piano melody, layered with strings and gentle percussion. It was a piece unlike anything Y/N had heard from him before—introspective and filled with emotion. As the music played, Y/N felt the weight of each note, as if it was telling a story only Jihoon could share.

When the song ended, Y/N turned to Jihoon, her eyes wide. “Jihoon, that was... beautiful. It felt so personal.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. “It is. I wrote it for someone who means a lot to me.”

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her expression. “Who?”

Jihoon turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. “You.”

Y/N’s breath caught, and for a moment, the room felt still. “Me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jihoon nodded, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ve been such an important part of my life, even when we weren’t in touch. I never stopped thinking about you, noona. Writing this was my way of expressing everything I couldn’t say before.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart full as she absorbed his words. “Jihoon... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jihoon said quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to place a hand on his. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And... it means more to me than I can put into words.”

Not long after, Y/N found herself visiting Seventeen’s dorm again, this time at Jihoon’s invitation. The members were ecstatic to see her, greeting her with the same enthusiasm as before.

“Noona!” Hoshi exclaimed, practically bounding toward her. “You’re back!”

“You’re braver than I thought,” Jeonghan teased, smirking. “Coming here willingly.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of their welcome making her feel at ease. “I couldn’t say no. Jihoon insisted.”

“Hyung, insisting? That’s a first,” Dino joked, earning a playful glare from Jihoon.

As the evening went on, the members bombarded Y/N with questions.

“Did you know Jihoon was this grumpy when he was younger?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Was he always this short?” Seungkwan added, causing an uproar of laughter.

Y/N chuckled, glancing at Jihoon, who was now sitting with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “He wasn’t grumpy. He was focused. And for the record, he was taller than most kids his age back then.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“But,” Y/N added, smirking, “he’s always had that little frown when he’s annoyed. It’s adorable.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jihoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Why did I even invite you here?”

As the night wound down, Y/N and Jihoon found themselves alone in the kitchen while the rest of the members watched a movie in the living room.

“Did they overwhelm you?” Jihoon asked, handing her a glass of water.

Y/N smiled, leaning against the counter. “Not at all. They’re wonderful, Jihoon. It’s clear how much they care about you.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze soft. “They’re like my second family. But... having you here feels different. It feels right.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she looked down at her glass. “I feel the same way.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Noona, I know we’re both busy, and I know our lives aren’t simple, but... I want us to figure this out. I want you to be a part of my life, not just as my past, but as my present and future too.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure, Jihoon? This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’m sure,” Jihoon said, his voice steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

A small smile spread across Y/N’s lips, and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s figure it out together.”

Jihoon’s heart swelled at her words, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace.

It was late in the evening when Jihoon and Y/N found themselves in his studio again. The familiar hum of equipment and the soft glow of the computer screen filled the room. Jihoon had invited her over under the pretense of showing her a new song, but as she sat across from him, engrossed in the notes spread on the piano, his heart raced.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N looked up, tilting her head. “What’s wrong, Jihoon?”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with a pen. “There’s something I need to say. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she set down the sheet music. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Jihoon took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Since we were kids, actually. Back then, I didn’t understand it, but now I do. You’ve always been someone special to me, noona.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “Jihoon…”

“I know our lives are complicated,” Jihoon continued, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “But I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. I like you—not as a childhood friend, but as someone I want to be with.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment. Then, Y/N stood and walked over to him.

“Jihoon,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve always cared about you, too. And honestly, I’ve been scared to admit it. But... I like you too.”

Jihoon’s eyes widened, and before he could process her words, she leaned down and kissed him. It was soft and tentative, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

When they pulled away, Jihoon’s cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Does this mean you’ll give us a chance?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her own smile mirroring his. “Yes, Jihoon. I will.”

It didn’t take long for the news to spread, thanks to Hoshi’s impeccable talent for eavesdropping.

The next morning, Jihoon walked into the dorm’s common room to find all twelve members waiting for him, their faces a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

Jihoon froze mid-step, his ears turning red. “How... How do you know that?”

“Hoshi hyung told us,” Vernon said nonchalantly, smirking.

Jihoon turned to Hoshi, who was grinning from ear to ear. “You couldn’t keep it to yourself, could you?”

“I have no regrets,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is the best thing to happen in months!”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, a sly smile on his face. “So, Jihoon, when are you bringing her over again? We need to congratulate her for putting up with you.”

“Yah!” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Can you all not make this a big deal?”

“It is a big deal,” Mingyu chimed in. “Our stoic producer hyung has a love life! This is historic.”

Joshua patted Jihoon’s shoulder, his tone more sincere. “We’re happy for you, Jihoon. Really. You deserve this.”

Jihoon sighed, his initial annoyance fading. Despite their teasing, he could see the genuine happiness in their expressions. “Thanks, I guess. But can you all promise not to scare her off the next time she visits?”

“No promises,” Dino said, grinning.

As the members burst into laughter, Jihoon couldn’t help but smile. Their antics might drive him crazy, but deep down, he was grateful to have them by his side.

A week later, Jihoon invited Y/N to the dorm for dinner. Despite his warnings, the members were already on high alert, eager to see her again and, more importantly, to tease Jihoon mercilessly.

“Do you think they’ve kissed again?” Seungkwan whispered loudly as they set the table.

“I bet they have,” Mingyu said with a smirk.

“Ten bucks says Jihoon will get flustered if we even hint at it,” Vernon added, leaning against the counter.

“Guys, focus,” Jeonghan said, though his mischievous grin betrayed his intent. “We need to play this smart.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon and Y/N arrived at the dorm. Jihoon gave her a reassuring look as he opened the door.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Jihoon said softly.

Y/N laughed. “I think I can handle it.”

The evening started off relatively tame. The members greeted Y/N warmly, though their excitement was palpable. Over dinner, they chatted about everything from music to childhood stories, most of which involved Jihoon.

“Did you know Jihoon hyung used to eat instant noodles for every meal during trainee days?” Dino said, grinning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at Jihoon. “Really?”

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you all insist on embarrassing me?”

“It’s our duty,” Hoshi said, laughing.

As the meal continued, the members kept sneaking glances at Jihoon and Y/N, exchanging knowing looks whenever the two shared a private smile or laugh.

After dinner, Y/N and Jihoon retreated to the balcony for a moment of peace. The evening air was cool, and the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“This is nice,” Y/N said, leaning on the railing.

Jihoon nodded, standing close beside her. “Yeah, it is.”

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft and brief, but before they could pull away, the sound of stifled laughter made them freeze.

They turned to find half the members huddled at the door, their faces pressed against the glass.

“Oh my gosh!” Seungkwan exclaimed, throwing the door open. “We caught them!”

Jihoon groaned, stepping back from Y/N. “Do you guys have no boundaries?”

“Nope,” Mingyu said, grinning. “This is way too entertaining.”

“You guys looked like a scene from a drama,” Jeonghan added, dramatically clasping his hands over his chest.

“Hyung,” Dino said, pretending to wipe a tear. “You’re growing up so fast.”

“Leave us alone,” Jihoon muttered, his face bright red.

Back inside, the members didn’t let up.

“So, Jihoon,” Joshua said with a sly smile, “how long have you been sneaking kisses behind our backs?”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And why didn’t you tell us? We’re supposed to be your brothers!”

Jihoon crossed his arms, glaring at them. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“Hyung, come on,” Seungkwan said. “You’ve got to give us something. Were you always this romantic, or is this new?”

“I’m not romantic,” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment only fueling their teasing.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You guys really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to Jihoon hyung,” Vernon said, smirking.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jihoon said, standing up. “If you’re all going to act like children, Y/N and I are leaving.”

“No!” Dino said, grabbing Y/N’s hand dramatically. “Noona, don’t go! We promise to behave!”

Y/N smiled, patting his hand. “I think I’ll be back soon enough. But for now, I should probably let Jihoon calm down.”

As Jihoon walked Y/N to the door, he sighed. “Sorry about them. They’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, slipping her hand into his. “Don’t apologize. They’re wonderful. I’m glad you have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his expression softening. “Still, I’ll make sure they behave next time.”

“Next time?” Y/N teased.

Jihoon smiled. “Yeah. Next time.”

As she left, Jihoon returned to the living room, where the members were waiting with smug grins.

“Don’t say a word,” Jihoon warned, though his expression held a hint of a smile.

The members burst into laughter, their teasing filling the room once more.

A week after the chaos of dinner at the dorm, Y/N visited Jihoon at the studio again. This time, the atmosphere was quiet and calm—just the two of them. Jihoon had asked her to help him with a melody he was struggling to finish, knowing her insight as a pianist would be invaluable.

“You know,” Y/N said, sitting at the piano in the corner, “I never thought I’d be working on music with you like this. It feels... surreal.”

Jihoon leaned against the desk, a small smile on his face. “I’ve always wanted to share this part of my life with you, noona. It just took me a while to get here.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes warm. “I’m glad you did.”

As she played a soft tune on the piano, Jihoon watched her intently. Her presence in the studio felt natural, like she belonged there.

Just as they were starting to settle into the work, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Hoshi walked in with bright smiles.

“Hyung, we brought food—” Seungkwan started, but then froze when he saw Y/N. His grin widened. “Oh, noona’s here!”

Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you guys here?”

“We thought you’d be lonely,” Mingyu said, setting a bag of takeout on the desk. “But clearly, you’re not.”

Hoshi smirked, nudging Jihoon playfully. “We didn’t know you’d have such nice company.”

Y/N laughed, standing up to greet them. “It’s nice to see you all again.”

“You too, noona,” Hoshi said, then turned to Jihoon. “Were you two working or—?”

“We were working,” Jihoon cut in, glaring at him.

“Sure you were,” Seungkwan teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

As the afternoon went on, the members insisted on staying, claiming they wanted to “supervise” Jihoon’s work. They lounged around, occasionally offering unsolicited opinions on the music and cracking jokes at Jihoon’s expense.

At one point, Jihoon leaned over to show Y/N something on the piano. She laughed at a joke he made, and instinctively, Jihoon reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

The moment was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh my gosh, did you see that?” Seungkwan whispered loudly to Mingyu.

“Totally,” Mingyu whispered back, though his voice was anything but quiet.

“Hyung, stop being so romantic in front of us!” Hoshi exclaimed, dramatically shielding his eyes.

Jihoon sighed, straightening up. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Nope,” Seungkwan said, grinning. “This is our entertainment.”

Later, when the members finally started packing up to leave, Jihoon walked Y/N to the door. Thinking they were finally alone, Jihoon leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks for coming, noona,” he said softly.

Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushing. “Anytime.”

But before they could step apart, a loud gasp came from behind them.

“You’re doing it again!” Hoshi shouted, pointing at them.

The rest of the members rushed over, their expressions a mix of shock and glee.

“Hyung! In the studio?!” Mingyu said, feigning scandal.

“I can’t believe this,” Seungkwan said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Right in front of our takeout bag!”

Jihoon groaned, his ears turning red. “Can you all leave already?”

“No way,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “This is gold. Noona, you’ve really softened our Jihoon.”

Y/N laughed, covering her face with her hands. “You guys are impossible.”

“And you still like him?” Vernon teased.

“Don’t scare her off,” Jihoon muttered, shoving Hoshi lightly toward the door.

When the members finally left, Jihoon sighed in relief, turning back to Y/N. “I’m sorry about them.”

Y/N smiled, stepping closer to him. “Don’t be. I think it’s sweet how much they care about you.”

Jihoon softened, his usual stoic expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. “They’re lucky you think that. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around him briefly. “I’ll see you soon, Jihoon. And next time, I’ll bring snacks for everyone.”

Jihoon watched her leave, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Despite the chaos, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

As more fans became aware of Jihoon and Y/N’s relationship, the reactions grew increasingly varied. While many Carats supported Jihoon’s happiness, there were vocal detractors who scrutinized Y/N’s every move.

One evening, Y/N scrolled through social media, coming across both kind messages and a few harsh comments.

“Why her?”

“She’s not even that famous.”

“He seems happier, so I guess it’s okay.”

Though the positive comments outweighed the negative, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the sting of criticism. She closed her phone and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of her apartment.

Jihoon, sensing her mood during their usual phone call, asked, “Noona, is something wrong?”

Y/N hesitated before admitting, “Some of the comments... they’re a bit much.”

Jihoon’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, noona. I wish I could shield you from all of this.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Y/N said quickly. “I just… I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You could never do that,” Jihoon said firmly. “If anything, you make things better. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Her heart warmed at his words. “Okay, Jihoon.”

The members, true to their word, found ways to show their support for Jihoon and Y/N. During live broadcasts, Seungkwan and Mingyu casually mentioned how “nice” it was to see Jihoon smiling more often.

Hoshi, on the other hand, was less subtle. In a recent behind-the-scenes video, he joked, “Jihoon-hyung has someone special cheering him on these days. It’s no wonder his melodies are even sweeter!”

Carats quickly picked up on these moments, and the majority of fans began rallying around the idea of Jihoon’s happiness being their priority.

To escape the pressures of public scrutiny, Jihoon planned a quiet getaway for himself and Y/N. They drove to a small countryside village near their hometown, where they could relax without worrying about being recognized.

The day was filled with simple joys—walking along quiet paths, visiting small cafes, and sitting by a riverbank as Y/N played a soft tune on her piano app.

“You really love the piano, don’t you?” Jihoon asked, watching her.

“It’s always been a part of me,” Y/N said. “Kind of like how music is for you.”

Jihoon nodded, leaning back on his elbows. “You’re part of my music now, noona. You inspire me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “Stop saying things like that, Jihoon. You’ll make me cry.”

Jihoon chuckled, reaching out to hold her hand. “It’s the truth.”

As time passed, Y/N and Jihoon decided to make their relationship more public. They attended a charity event together, where Y/N performed as the opening act, playing a stunning piano solo.

Jihoon watched her from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride. When she finished, the audience erupted into applause, and Jihoon was among the loudest to cheer.

Afterward, a few fans approached them cautiously.

“Jihoon oppa, Y/N unnie is amazing!” one fan said shyly.

“Thank you,” Jihoon said, smiling warmly. “She really is.”

Y/N, though initially nervous, found herself relaxing as fans expressed their support.

“We just want you to be happy,” another fan said.

Y/N glanced at Jihoon, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you. That means so much to both of us.”

Back in the studio, Y/N became a frequent visitor. Though she usually stayed in the background, Jihoon would often ask for her input on melodies or lyrics.

One day, while working on a particularly emotional ballad, Jihoon turned to Y/N. “This song... it’s about us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jihoon nodded. “It’s about finding someone who feels like home. That’s what you are to me, noona.”

Y/N smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Jihoon.”

During one of her visits to the studio, Y/N stayed late as Jihoon finished mixing a track. When he finally leaned back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied, Y/N walked over to congratulate him.

“You’ve worked so hard,” she said, brushing his hair back.

Jihoon smiled, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

Just as they pulled away, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Hoshi, and Mingyu stood there, frozen in shock.

“AGAIN?!” Seungkwan exclaimed.

Jihoon groaned, his hand covering his face. “Can you guys knock?”

“No way,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is too good.”

“I’m telling the others,” Mingyu said, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t you dare,” Jihoon said, standing up to chase him.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You’ll never get a moment of peace, will you?”

Jihoon sighed but smiled, wrapping an arm around her. “Probably not. But as long as you I don't mind"

As their first anniversary approached, Jihoon found himself brainstorming ways to make it unforgettable. He wanted to show Y/N just how much she meant to him.

“Hyung,” Mingyu said one evening as Jihoon sat in the dorm’s living room, jotting down ideas. “You’re stressing out too much. It’s an anniversary, not a world tour.”

“It’s not just an anniversary,” Jihoon replied, frowning at his notebook. “It’s the anniversary. I want it to be perfect.”

Seungkwan, who was lounging nearby, chimed in. “Just be yourself, hyung. Noona already loves you. You don’t need fireworks—although, if you want fireworks, I know a guy.”

Jihoon sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”

Little did Jihoon know, Y/N was also planning something special. She knew how much music meant to him, so she composed a short piano piece inspired by their journey together. It was her way of expressing everything she felt but couldn’t always put into words.

On the day of their anniversary, Y/N arrived at Jihoon’s studio carrying a small gift bag and a folder of sheet music. She was nervous but excited.

“Happy anniversary, Jihoon,” she said, smiling as she handed him the bag.

Jihoon opened it to find a simple but elegant bracelet engraved with the words: You’re my melody.

���Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “This is perfect.”

“There’s more,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She handed him the folder. “I wrote this for you.”

Jihoon stared at the sheet music, his eyes scanning the notes. “You wrote a song?”

Y/N nodded. “It’s not much, but—”

“It’s everything,” Jihoon interrupted, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you, noona.”

Later that evening, Jihoon took Y/N to a small, private restaurant he had rented out just for them. The room was decorated with fairy lights and candles, creating a warm, romantic atmosphere.

“This is amazing,” Y/N said, looking around in awe.

“It’s not much,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted you to feel special.”

Y/N smiled, taking his hand. “I always feel special with you, Jihoon.”

As they ate, Jihoon pulled out a small box. “I have something for you, too.”

Y/N opened the box to find a delicate silver necklace with a tiny pendant shaped like a piano.

“I thought it would remind you of how much you inspire me,” Jihoon said.

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Jihoon, this is beautiful. Thank you.”

When Jihoon and Y/N returned to the dorm later that night, they were greeted by the members, who had planned a surprise party. The living room was decorated with balloons and banners, and a cake sat on the coffee table.

“Happy anniversary!” Hoshi exclaimed, pulling them into the room.

“You didn’t think we’d let you celebrate alone, did you?” Seungkwan added, grinning.

Y/N laughed, feeling overwhelmed by their kindness. “You guys are amazing.”

As the night went on, the members took turns teasing Jihoon about being romantic, sharing embarrassing stories, and welcoming Y/N further into their “family.”

Later, as the party wound down and the members dispersed, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves alone on the balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance as Jihoon leaned against the railing, holding Y/N close.

“This year has been the best of my life,” Jihoon said softly. “Because of you.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I feel the same. I never imagined we’d end up here, but I’m so glad we did.”

Jihoon turned to her, his expression serious yet tender. “Noona, no matter what happens—no matter how crazy things get—I’ll always choose you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining. “And I’ll always be here for you, Jihoon.”

As they shared a gentle kiss under the night sky, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they’d face them together.

[knoepfl]

A Touch of Chaos

Characters

• Viktor: Ambitious and sarcastic Piltover inventor, physically frail but brilliant.

• Jayce Talis: Charismatic and confident inventor, Viktor’s partner and friend.

• Reader (Y/N): Viktor’s bold and resourceful Zaunite girlfriend, sharp-witted and unafraid to challenge him.

Trigger Warnings

• Mild Conflict: Teasing and light arguments between characters.

• Physical Disability: References to Viktor’s frailty and cane use.

• Mild Danger: Mentions of risky behavior in Zaun.

• Class Divide: Subtle Piltover/Zaun disparities.

• Romantic Themes: Affectionate moments between Viktor and Y/N.

Masterlist

Words: 1098

---

Progress Day always brought Piltover to life. The streets brimmed with excitement, dazzling lanterns illuminating merchant stalls and Hextech displays. Music swelled from every corner, laughter echoing off polished stone buildings as inventors flaunted their latest innovations.

Viktor never cared much for the festivities themselves—Progress Day was a spectacle more than substance—but this year, it served a purpose. One he wasn’t sure he entirely enjoyed.

“Would you slow down?” Jayce called from behind him, shoving his way through the festival crowd.

“I am slow,” Viktor shot back dryly, his cane tapping against the cobblestones. He glanced back at his companion. “You are just slow in the head.”

Jayce let out an exaggerated groan. “Why are you in such a hurry, anyway? Where are we going?”

Viktor didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted toward the edge of the festival, where the glow of the lanterns began to fade into quieter streets. “There is someone I would like you to meet.”

Jayce blinked, taking a moment to process. “Wait. You want me to meet someone?” He rushed to Viktor’s side, eyes narrowing. “You’re not secretly working with another partner, are you? I thought I was irreplaceable.”

Viktor huffed, shaking his head. “Not another partner. Someone far more… important.”

“Important?” Jayce teased, a grin spreading across his face. “Is Viktor finally introducing me to a girl?”

Viktor gave him a sidelong look, unimpressed. “If you continue to speak, I may regret bringing you along at all.”

Jayce raised his hands in surrender, though his grin remained. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

---

The place Viktor led him to wasn’t a dimly lit lab or a back-alley workshop—no, it was a quieter corner of the festival where street performers played unfamiliar instruments, and merchants peddled more eclectic wares. The people here were a mix of Piltover and Zaun—an odd fusion of refinement and grit.

And then he saw her.

You stood with one foot perched against a crate, arms crossed loosely as you scanned the crowd with a sharp, discerning gaze. Your outfit—a mix of Zaunite function and personal flair—set you apart from the polished festivalgoers. Tools and vials peeked out of your belt, green chem-grease streaking the edge of your sleeves. Despite it all, you looked comfortable here—like the chaos of the world bent around you.

The moment you spotted Viktor, your demeanor shifted. A smile, genuine and bright, crossed your face as you pushed off the crate and crossed toward him.

“There’s my genius,” you said warmly, your voice cutting through the noise as you closed the space between you.

Viktor’s faint smile—rare and fleeting—appeared as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You are too kind,” he murmured, though the pleased tilt of his lips said he didn’t mind the praise.

You lingered close to him, your hand brushing briefly against his arm before your gaze flicked toward Jayce, who watched the exchange with open curiosity.

“So this is the famous Jayce Talis,” you said, cocking your head as you looked him up and down. “Vik said you were hard to miss.”

Jayce straightened slightly, a bit thrown by your tone. “And you are…?”

“This is Y/N,” Viktor said simply, gesturing toward you. “My… partner.”

Jayce blinked. “Partner?” He turned to Viktor, eyes wide. “You mean like—”

“Yes, Jayce,” Viktor interjected, sparing him the awkward clarification. “My girlfriend.”

Jayce froze for a beat before a grin spread across his face. “Well, this is unexpected.” He extended his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You looked at his hand for a moment—just long enough to make Jayce shift uncomfortably—before taking it with a firm shake. “Likewise, golden boy.”

The nickname caught him off guard. “Golden boy?”

“Your reputation precedes you,” you teased, though your gaze was sharp. “Vik talks about you all the time. Says you’re brilliant—but a little reckless.”

Jayce let out a breath of laughter, glancing at Viktor. “Reckless, huh?”

Viktor, looking far too pleased, nodded. “It is not an inaccurate description.”

Jayce rolled his eyes. “Right. Because you’re always so careful.”

You laughed, a bright sound that caught Viktor’s attention. “He has a point, Vik. You wouldn’t know ‘careful’ if it hit you with a wrench.”

“I recall you hitting me with a wrench once,” Viktor muttered, but there was no bite to his words—just familiarity.

You grinned at him, tilting your head fondly. “You were being stubborn.”

Jayce watched the two of you interact, finally piecing together the dynamic. There was an easiness here, a softness in Viktor that Jayce wasn’t used to seeing. You poked at him, teased him, and yet… Viktor let you. More than that—he looked comfortable.

“So, how did you two meet?” Jayce asked, curiosity overtaking him.

You smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. “He wandered into Zaun like he owned the place. Nearly got himself gassed fixing a broken pump. I saved him.”

Viktor shot you a pointed look. “I was fine.”

“You were stubborn,” you corrected, nudging his arm gently. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Viktor’s faint smile returned. “Luck has little to do with it.”

Jayce stared between the two of you, stunned. “You’re serious? Viktor nearly—?”

“Viktor gets in plenty of trouble when left unsupervised,” you said lightly, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. Viktor didn’t react, save for a glance at you that held an undeniable softness. “That’s why I keep him around. Someone has to stop him from blowing himself up.”

“I do not blow myself up,” Viktor muttered, though the way you squeezed his arm suggested you’d heard this argument before.

Jayce let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, you’re definitely a change of pace.”

You grinned at him, sharp and unbothered. “You’re not so bad yourself, golden boy.”

Viktor glanced at Jayce, his voice low and dry as he said, “I warned you.”

Jayce huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he took in the sight of you and Viktor. There was something unpolished and unpredictable about you—chaos in the middle of Piltover’s perfection—but you brought out something in Viktor that Jayce hadn’t even realized was missing.

“Well,” Jayce said finally, his grin returning, “at least she keeps you on your toes.”

Viktor glanced at you, his eyes softening. “She does,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled, leaning into him just slightly. “And you love it.”

Viktor’s lips quirked faintly upward. “Perhaps.”

Jayce threw up his hands in defeat, a laugh escaping him. “You know what? I like her.”

“Good,” you replied, smirking. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Viktor’s quiet smile lingered, and for once, Jayce didn’t have anything clever to say.

---

[milkloafy]

REST AND RESPITE — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: dan heng finds himself growing fond of your outgoing and talkative nature. one day, when you’ve holed yourself in your room, he can’t help but worry about you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.0k  ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: shhh i haven’t played 2.1 or 2.2 update yet so dan heng is still chilling in the express to me <3 wrote this while sleep deprived and accidentally made dan heng softer than planned :> 

After the events that transpired at the Xianzhou Luofu, Dan Heng decided he needed the time to rest and reflect. He hoped March 7th and Trailblazer had a successful mission—he would surely join them again soon—but he knew he wouldn’t be giving his best effort if he were to go in his current state.

He decided a few moments of peace and quite would do him some good.

Unfortunately for him, however, you also stayed on board the Astral Express for the next mission. 

Peace, he would still get. Dan Heng enjoyed your presence and the two of you had gotten closer over the years. But quiet… That was another story. Ever since you had joined the Astral Express, the halls wer filled with sounds of your laughter. On the nights you and March 7th had a sleepover planned, Dan Heng found himself needing earplugs, to put it kindly. 

Despite the noise not being his typical preference, he noticed himself finding comfort in the liveliness and warmth you brought. Which is why, when a day came where he did not hear you chatting with Pom-Pom or Welt during your scheduled afternoon snack, Dan Heng began to grow concerned. After only brief contemplation, he walked down the hallway and knocked on your door, your favorite breakfast bar in hand. 

“Y/N?” he called through the wall.

“Oh— Come in,” you said, your voice distant. 

When he opened the door, he saw you curled up on the small sofa inside your room—your conversation area for guests, you had told him. You had a blanket wrapped around you and a slow-paced instrumental piece playing from your radio. 

You waved as you looked up at him with a smile. “Hi there.”

“Hello.” Dan Heng extended the breakfast bar out to you. “I noticed you haven’t come out to eat yet. Thought you might be hungry.” 

Your eyes brightened as you accepted the snack, expressing your thanks with a bow of your head.

“Is everything okay?” he asked once you took a bite. Though you didn’t look terrible, he still was unable to shake his worry. “You have been quiet today.”

You let out a small laugh, though it sounded unnaturally forced. “I’m sure you’re grateful for these few moments of silence.”

“Not when your wellbeing is in question.”

Your gaze warmed as his thoughtful words, patting the cushion next to you and beckoning him to take a seat. He obliged, feeling the warmth radiating from your body as his right arm pressed against you. Dan Heng quite enjoyed the warmth. You offered him the corner of your blanket and he shook his head, smothering a chuckle of amusement. 

Once the two of you settled in, you said, “I’ve just been having bad dreams all night.” You paused, as if deciding how much more you wanted to share. “They were about my time…before the Astral Express.”

Dan Heng nodded in understanding. You did not have to say more. The Express welcomed all types of people, each with vastly different backgrounds. Everyone came from unique places and sometimes they were not the best ones. He was unable to verbalize this feeling of empathy out loud to you, but he hoped you sensed that he was there for you.

“I’m not really thinking about it anymore,” you assured, your tone rushed. “Now I’m just exhausted but haven’t been able to sleep.”

He hummed to himself. You seemed tired, even a bit troubled. Perhaps even someone like you needed time alone. But something told him that, for this particular situation, that didn’t seem to be the case.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “If you think it will help, you are welcome to join me in the Archives today. I still have some entries to input, but if you would like some company, I’ll be there.”

You straightened up in your seat, eyes wide with excitement, before a flash of hesitancy crossed your face.

“It…won’t be bothersome to you?” 

“You’re never a  bother,” he said firmly. “Though, perhaps your slumber parties with March 7th while I’m trying to sleep may be.” 

That earned a laugh out of you. “Well, if you joined us one night, maybe you would see the appeal. Even Caelus joins sometimes!” 

Dan Heng smiled at that. “Perhaps you are right.”

You nodded and said matter-of-factly, “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

He chuckled, happy to see a glimpse of your normal self coming out. Seeing you dejected and downcast was something he hated to witness, though he knew everyone had those moments. They were inevitable, after all. But Dan Heng wished he could always be there for you during those times.

It was natural to feel that way towards a good friend, he told himself. If he said it enough, maybe he would be convinced. 

So why did he feel his heart race when you asked him to help you up from the couch? And why was he glad you didn’t let go of his hand even after you stood up?

Dan Heng wet his lower lip as he glanced at your connected hands. They were not even interlocked—just barely brushing—yet he still reacted in such a way. He looked over at your face and noticed a bashful smile gracing your features. It was a sight he wasn’t exactly used to seeing, but it was pleasant nonetheless. 

Perhaps similar thoughts flashed through your mind about him. Did your heart also race when the two of you made close contact? Did your stomach flutter at his touch? He wanted to ask, but chose to hold back for now. You were distraught and vulnerable from your difficult night, and he thought it was more important to help you feel calm and well-rested first. 

But as he caught you sneaking glances at him before looking away with a coy expression, Dan Heng knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. Still, patience was a virtue and he was confident that it would pay off. 

Soon, he promised himself. Dan Heng caught your eye and this time, you didn’t look away. He smiled and you returned it tenfold. Very soon.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER SIX // GROUPIES 

series mlist 

Tags — alcohol, Toge highkey jumpscares yn like he’s from fnaf, “he’s right behind me isn’t he… 😟” type moment, that’s all I think?? Words — 1.0k 

It took you a moment to realize what was going on. The lighting in the rustic, shabby bar was dim, just barely casting a glow over the sharp edges of the many faces before you. Nobody should’ve expected you to be paying attention to that, your only duty was to keep your voice melodic and make sure you didn’t trip on the chord of the microphone. You failed to notice the odd glances shared by the instrument players behind you, as well as the eyes wide as saucers staring at you from the farthest wall. 

Only when the set was over and you finally got a chance to breathe—or so you thought—did you get an inkling of awareness. You were leant against the battered wood of the bar, the material oddly cool compared to your flushed skin as you waited for your drink. Nobara was beside you, mindlessly chattering away about the rip in her favourite skirt or the way a guy in her class was looking at her, but then her expression changed. She glanced anxiously behind you, making motions with her head that were meant to be some sort of signal but ended up making her look like some sort of challenged bird. 

“Y/n,” she gritted, eyes narrowing. “Be…hind… you…” 

Your head turned, but you didn’t even get a glimpse of him before he spoke. His voice was teasing, but it cut through the background noise like a gunshot in the midst of a quiet night. “So this is why you couldn’t go out with me?” 

Nobara’s eyes widened, but there was a knowing gleam in them that told you she had this all figured out. She might’ve seemed dull, a hot-headed, fashion obsessed girl concerned with nothing much, but there were more layers to her than her well-coordinated outfits. “I’ll leave you to it,” she smirked. She swiped her drink from the counter, and then all that was left of her was spilled droplets of her overly fruity beverage. 

You turned, meeting his eye. Your hip pressed into the wood, casual and inviting as you smiled. “If I denied that, would you believe me?” 

He shook his head, a huff of amusement leaving him. In the low lights, his hair reflected a soft gold, his skin looking smooth and ivory. He looked… good. Really good. You barely knew him, yet it was taking everything in you not to reach out, to run your hands over the sharp ridges of his face, stare into the soft, purple eyes that looked at you now. You’d never taken much interest in boys, never giggled and gossiped with the other girls at sleepovers while you painted your nails and braided each other’s hair. Toge seemed to flip that 180°, to give you that giddy feeling in your stomach that you’d grown to know as butterflies, but never felt personally. Not until now, at least. 

He leaned forward just a small bit, almost unnoticeable, almost involuntary. His face didn’t show it, but he could feel his heart pulsing in his ears. “You know, I figured this—” he motioned to the stage, microphone sitting prettily where you’d been standing just minutes before.  “—would be something worth mentioning. An ice breaker, maybe?” 

Your chest rose and fell with a quiet chuckle, one that couldn’t be heard beneath the clinking of glasses and drunken chatter. “But then I’d lose my mysterious allure, wouldn’t I?” 

“No offence, but I’m pretty sure stuttering over text cancels that out,” he shot back. His lips curled up into a grin, wide and genuine. You two seemed to be on the same frequency, something new and refreshing and undeniably enticing, growing with every retort. You laughed, and he felt his smile grow until it hurt his cheeks. “I can’t say I’m any better, though,” he admitted, leaning an elbow on the corner of the bar. 

“I know.” 

His brows knitted together in playful offence. “Hey! You’re not supposed to agree.” 

“You want me to lie?” 

“You lied about being a literal rockstar, so is a fib to protect my emotions that much of a stretch?” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Your body curled forward with laughter, eyes crinkling and hand reaching to cover your mouth. Maybe it was the alcohol or the breathlessness from singing, but you were pretty sure your head spinning was caused purely by Toge. His energy, the way the air around him seeped into you like it was meant to mingle with you all along—it drew you in like a magnet and sent your senses into orbit. 

He laughed with you, soft and carefree. It might’ve been nothing but a 30 minute break in the show, yes, but the moment seemed infinite to you. Being around him didn’t feel like a collection of moments, it seemed to stretch on, an endless tunnel of golden lights and coffee and smiles that left your face feeling sore. 

Across the room stood your friends, all clumped together and oddly silent. They gazed across at your figures, seeming to glow with the warmth that could only be brought from within. You didn’t know it, but they all knew what was to come, and they were… happy. For you. For him. They didn’t know Toge very well, and you didn’t either, but things felt different when he was around. Your eyes gleamed with just a little more light, something soft and bright and doughy, like how you looked when you came home after a long time away. It was slightly unnerving (in Megumi’s words), sure, but beautiful nonetheless. There was an unspoken sense of acquaintance between the three, shared between glances and the distance between you and them. 

Just then it was only you and Toge and the heavy warmth in your chest, and that was completely okay. 

Cat’s outta the bag ig???

maybe that should’ve been the chapter name

whatever I already had them planned out

Toge is yn’s groupie confirmed

I haven’t mentioned whether maki and Megumi are cousins this time, so view it as you wish

Hitting the halfway mark… this one is a very different dynamic than bttoh I think… Maybe I don’t have this series as much as I like to pretend I do… ig… I’ve been so chopped lately someone kill me. AND the Moodboard I posted flopped really bad do yall hate me be honest

Taglist — 50/50

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @nanaanatiion @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @rottingvxmpire @gradmacoco @spkyssn

[jayaury]

Hell of a Party

A short story from October! Tried to capture those autumn vibes. Plenty more you know where! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

. . .

Sid squinted through the windshield at what could generously be called a road. Damn thing was more rut than gravel, and the trees were so overgrown he could hear them scraping at the roof and sides of his old Chevy like groping hands. All of which made the midnight drive a risky thing

“Chris, are you sure there’s a house out here?” he asked as he tried to peer through the blackness. “We’re well outside town.”

“Sure, man,” Chris said affably from the passenger seat. “Just keep on a little further.”

Sid glanced over at his friend. He did like Chris, no question of that. They’d met in Folklore 102, and surprisingly hit it off. Where Sid was more withdrawn, Chris had been a party animal, embracing college life like a typical frat boy. Recently, he’d been going to some special parties. He’d been a bit vague on details, but had been badgering Sid to come with him for over a week. Sid had finally agreed just to shut him up.

That said, Sid was curious about those late-night parties. Because Chris had changed since he’d started going to them. For one, he started wearing those stupid sunglasses all the time like he was perpetually hung over. And he’d also become…

Well, stupider, to be honest.

Not that Chris had been terribly brilliant before. There was a reason he was taking folklore 102, which was notoriously easy. Well, one of two reasons. The other was that the female to male ratio was three to one. Sid stole a glance at Chris again, who was grinning, leaning back in the seat, those strange tinted glasses masking his eyes, lumberjack-style plaid jacked undone.

Chris suddenly jerked forward, grabbing the dash and pointing. “There! There it is!”

Sid jumped and swung his attention back to the road, peering ahead.

It took him a moment, but then he saw it. Jutting out of the tangled forest was a large house. Classically Victorian, it crouched among trees stripped to skeletal limbs by autumn’s chill. Tiled roofs rose in minarets and bay windows pushed forward, spilling out a brilliant yellow glow. Shadows flickered against the panes, and he could faintly hear the thud of music beating through the night.

Yet something felt… off about the house. Out of place. Sid had a hard time believing a building like that would be out in the middle of the boonies. Especially with the road in this condition. Yet, the evidence was before his eyes.

“How did you even find this place?” he asked.

“Got invited,” Chris said, practically bouncing in his seat, grinning like an idiot. His hands slapped the dash in eager drumming. “Come on, man. Bring us in! They got started without us, and you don’t wanna miss the fun!”

Still puzzled, Sid cruised closer, gravel crunching under the wheels as he brought them up. He parked among several other cars and got out, scanning the building. Again, he found the place odd. If felt like it should be more overgrown with the treeline so close. Instead, it looked like someone had just… plopped the house down in the middle of the woods.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Chris said, bounding out of the car and towards the porch. Sid followed more slowly, walking up the creaking steps and to the door, the sound of music growing. Weird stuff. Felt very instrumental and vibey. Flutes and horns with a pulsing beat that seemed to vibrate in his gut and throb in his groin.

Chris rang the bell, the chime nearly lost in the music. A moment later the door flew open, yellow light spilling out and illuminating a woman that made Sid stare.

She was simply gorgeous. Full figured and wearing a tight red dress that hugged every aching curve, her hair was a frizz of red whose style probably went out of date in the 70’s. Those hoop earrings surely had, but her face and body made you forget about anything else. She radiated gleeful fun, and the way her breasts strained the red fabric with her every breath riveted Sid’s attention.

“Beezie!” Chris cried, throwing his arms open.

“Baby!” Beezie replied in a sonorous, throaty voice that made Sid shiver and flush. Her arms enfolded Chris, pulling him in against her expansive chest, her lush red lips planting a kiss on his cheek. “Look at you. It’s so late! And this must be your friend!”

“Uh, hi,” Sid said, feeling hot just from her look. “Sid. Nice to-”

“How silly! We greet like this,” she said, and before Sid could respond her arms had enveloped him, tugged him in, and mashed him against her chest. The feel of her breasts made him flash hot, and that’s when her lips met his.

Sid jolted, sucking in a breath ladened with her flowery perfume. He couldn’t quite suppress a soft moan as her tongue slid against his lips, barely asking permission before pushing into his mouth. He’d never had a kiss like that, which seemed to last forever yet end far too soon when she broke apart with an audible pop, leaning back and admiring him as he blinked, dazed.

“Mmm, lovely to meet you!” Beezie said merrily. “I just know you’re going to be a big hit. And thank you, Chris. We always need more boys at these things. Just can’t get enough!”

Chris grinned stupidly, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Beezie. I was a good boy.”

“You certainly are. Such a good boy,” Beezie cooed, patting his cheek fondly.

Chris bit his lip, practically quivering with delight, much to Sid’s amazement.

“But come in! Come in out of the cold,” Beezie exclaimed as she stepped aside, ushering the both of them into the foyer, giving Sid a slight pat on his ass that made him start. “It’s nice and warm in here.”

Warm was right. No sooner had Sid stepped over the threshold it felt like the temperature went up twenty degrees.

“Put your coat anywhere, sweetie. And go check out the party! Chris? I think I should give you your reward, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes Beezie,” Chris panted. “Good boy!”

“A very good boy,” Beezie cooed before giving Sid another pat to urge him into the house.

He found himself being shooed into the living room, where the party was certainly in full swing, and it quickly became apparent that they really did need more men around. The place was absolutely filled with women. Practically three to every man. He could tell because every guy in there had at least two beautiful, flirty girls hanging off him.

Sid hesitated, then sidled into the room, trying to avoid attention. He was surprised to see pretty much every guy from his folklore class, and definitely every girl too. But there were others he didn’t recognize, and no one he was friends with.

In search of something to do, he hit up a large table at the back of the room filled with beer kegs and solo cups. He filled one, then drifted through the room uncertainly, eventually making his way to an empty spot against the lacquered wood wall.

He sighed, leaning there, watching the party from a distance. He swirled the beer he’d nabbed and glanced at the suds. He was never good at socializing at these things. Too bland. Too boring. He’d hoped that Chris would at least have introduced him a bit, but clearly that wasn’t happening. He grimaced. He shouldn’t of come. Was it too early to just… go home?

“Mind if I join you?”

He looked up in surprise. A woman stood before him. Beautiful, in a tight white top and a pair of cut off jeans that showed off her thighs. Her hair was a rich, thick mane of black and her eyes sparkled green. A pair of large glasses sat on her lovely face. Glasses that stirred some memory he couldn’t quite place.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She giggled. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked teasingly.

Sid flushed. “I uh…”

“It’s Millie.”

“Millie!”

She laughed, cocking a hip and resting her hand on it. “Surprised?” she asked.

He was. The Millie he knew was a mousey young woman from class, whose fashion tended towards bulky sweaters. Fairly popular, she’d often strike up conversations with him. He’d suspected she was interested in him, but never really believed it.

Now though…

She giggled. “Didn’t recognize me, did you?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted, and that was true enough. He couldn’t help but stare at her chest, her breasts absolutely straining her tight top. So that’s what those frumpy sweaters had hid. God damn…

“I bet,” she said, her hips cocking, the movement making her chest bounce. “In class I tend to go a bit more model student. Around here though?” she said, smiling as she tucked some black hair behind her ear, eying him through lidded lashes. “I can be a bit more… honest about myself.”

“You can?” he said, swallowing thickly.

“Oh yeah,” she whispered, stepping closer, her hand playing onto his thigh. “Very honest.”

Sid’s pulse jumped and his pants grew tight at that touch. How her fingers slid along his jeans, the heat of her palm radiating through the denim. Alright, so, looked like she had been interested in him after all. Very interested! More the fool him for fumbling that. Had to play it cool now though.

“You uh, come to these often?” he asked, and immediately mentally kicked himself.

“Sometimes,” she murmured, sliding in closer. “Quite often, actually. I’ve been telling Chris to get you to come for ages. Finally had to ask Momma Beezie to make that magic happen…”

“Oh, well, it’s… not really my scene,” he admitted.

“True,” she murmured, pressing still closer, her breasts squishing against his chest. “Shall we change that?”

Sid sucked in a breath, his pulse pounding, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the pungent perfume that surrounded her. Something thick. Spicy. Something that seemed to rush up his nose and into his head like a puff of pink smoke.

“Ch-change it?” he gasped.

She winked, her hand lacing with his. “This way.”

He didn’t resist as she pulled him out of the room and towards the stairs. He was honestly eager to get away from the living room with all the noise and sight of horny just-adults discovering each other’s bodies. Especially when it sounded a hell of a lot like he was about to make some fascinating discoveries about Millie’s body. He climbed the creaking wooden steps, eyes riveted to her ass. Rooms lined the hall up there, and Sid heard distinct sounds of thumping and… were those moans?

Oh.

Oh wow.

Sid felt his face warm again as he realized what was happening, and he tried to hide his excited expression as Millie dragged him to a particular door. Play it cool, Sid. Nice and cool. He took a deep breath and sucked in more of her perfume. He felt himself flush further, his eyes again trailing to her plush ass.

She glanced back at him, winked, her hand turning the doorknob. “Hope you’re ready for some real oh for fuck’s sake!”

Sid barely heard her. He was too busy staring at what was happening in the room. A man had been tied spreadeagle on the bed, a blindfold over his eyes and what looked like birthday candles semi-melted on his naked chest. A blonde was crouched in front of him, her head bobbing, her naked ass bared to them in a full and glorious moon.

At the sound of Millie’s voice the woman on the bed paused and raised her head with a slurping sound that made Sid’s legs wobble with sympathetic excitement. Turning, the naked blonde looked at them with innocent baby blues, a playful smile alighting her ruby lips before her tongue slid over them suggestively.

“Hey Millie,” she said.

“Jezebel, you fucking whore!” Millie growled. “I told everyone my room was off limits tonight.”

“Mmm,” Jezebel whined, arching a little, her plump breasts bouncing playfully on her chest, nipples jutting proudly. “But you have the biggest bed. And I needed a big bed for what I wanted to do.”

“That’s not… is that my organic honey?”

“Is it?” Jezebel said innocently, glancing at an empty squeeze bottle on the side table. “I found it in a drawer. I thought you were done with it.”

“You…” Millie seethed, and Sid stared at the livid anger of his fellow Folklore student. Even her hair seemed to be writhing in rage.

As he took a wary step back, Millie seemed to remember him and turned a sharply sweet smile on him.

“Sid. Could you wait out here for just a minute,” she said with strained politeness. “Just need to have a quick chat with my… friend…”

“Uh, sure. No problem.”

“Great,” Millie cooed and shut the door on him.

No sooner had it closed than he heard Millie’s muffled shouting as she chewed out Jezebel, who sounded like she was just laughing.

Bouncing on his heels, Sid uncertainly looked around the hallway. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the situation, and he dearly didn’t want to be a part of it further. But he couldn’t drag himself away. His body still zinged from Millie’s touch, and his pulse was warm and hot with lust. He looked around the hall for some distraction. There were a few pictures on the walls, but inevitably and unsurprisingly, his attention was drawn to the other rooms.

He stepped closer to the first one and heard whispered giggles and a man moaning. The one beside that had little more than the frantic creaking of bed springs.

His face grew warmer with every sound, yet he felt oddly compelled to continue. It wasn’t doing his erection any favours, and just the thought of Millie’s affection once she finished her little… argument more than kept him from wandering too far.

Then he reached a particular door. One that was unusually quiet. Surprised, he listened closer. There was… something. He pressed his ear to the wood. He heard a groan. Not one in pleasure though. It sounded a little like pain.

Sid looked around nervously. Was someone in trouble? It wouldn’t surprise him. At a party like this, who would notice? Hell, he doubted someone screaming bloody murder could be heard with the music downstairs on so loud. He could practically feel the floor vibrate from the bass.

He looked again at the door. Considered getting someone, but who? And he didn’t even know if something was wrong. How stupid would he look then?

He bit his lip. Well… he should at least take a look.

Grasping the knob, almost hoping to find it locked, he held his breath as it turned easily. He looked again around again. Then opened the door just a sliver and peered through.

The scent of booze was thick in the air. So heavy he felt a little light-headed just from the fumes. He squinted and saw a number of kegs all gathered about a mattress slumped in the corner. And sprawled among them, draped over some pillows like some empress with the worst hangover ever, was the bustiest woman he’d ever seen.

She was dressed in stockings and nothing else, her plump breasts bared, heaving with her slow breaths. Her head was thrown back against the slope of pillows arranged around the floor, her hair done up in a pair of pink pigtails.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned again, shifting listlessly.

Sid hesitated a moment more, then eased the door open and tiptoed inside. “Hey?” he called.

No response.

He moved over her, the scent of alcohol so strong it made his head spin again. He found his eyes wandering once more to those impressive breasts. Huge. Soft. Squeezable…

He shook his head, which momentarily cleared it. “Excuse me?” he said, nudging her shoulder.

“Mrrrrr,” she groaned, head lolling.

“Are… are you okay?” he asked.

“Mrph…” She blinked blearily and looked up at him. “Oh,” she said, her voice slurred and lazy, but a smile lit up her face. “Ohhhh. You’re… kinda cute…”

“Uh, thanks,” Sid said. “I was just… are you okay?”

“Nooooo,” she groaned, head tilting again, her feet kicking grumpily. “Ugh. My sisters are… are such bitches, you know?”

“Your sisters?”

“Yeeaaaaah. They said… they said I had to stay in here for the party. Right? Because I… because I always go after the boys too… too hard. And I mean, I mean it’s not my fault, right? If you don’t… you know, train ‘em properly, of course you’ll lose ‘em. I mean… I mean look at these,” she said, cupping her immense breasts. Hefting them. “Who wouldn’t… wouldn’t get addicted to these babies?”

Sid stared. Her breasts were truly massive. And they looked soaked with something. The smell implied liquor. But… but was it just him? Or did it look a bit like her nipples were… well, dripping?

“I uh…”

“Hey,” she said, looking at him closer, a lazy smile turning her lips. “Did you come here because you were, like, worried about me?”

“...Kinda,” he admitted. “You sounded… not good.”

“Mmm. That’s because I’m noooot,” she drawled, rolling forward and onto her hands and knees. “Not at all.”

Sid wasn’t sure he liked the look in her eyes. The gleam of wicked amusement. The hazy heat that burned in those dark orbs as she began to crawl towards him. “O-oh? Why uh, why is that?” he asked, retreating, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Because I haven’t eaten in just… daaaaays. I’m soooo hungry,” she said, her lower lip pushed out in a pout. But still those eyes burned. Still they hungered.

“I uh, think there was a chip bowl downstairs,” Sid stammered. Then his back hit the wall with a thump. “I could probably…”

“That’s so sweeeeeet,” she cooed, stopping in front of him, pushing her plush bum onto her heels, her heavy breasts bouncing as she straightened, level with his crotch. “But I’m hungry for something special.”

“S-special?” Sid squeaked, his mind understanding what was happening, yet unwilling to quite believe it.

“Oh yeaaaah,” she breathed, her hand rising, finger sliding along the unsubtle bulging at the front of his jeans. “Mmm. And got a feast… fit for a queen right here.”

“I… uh… miss, I don’t…”

“Call me Brandy,” she said, the tips of her fingers pinching his zipper.

“Brandy, I ah!”

He gasped as she tugged, his fly sliding down, his cock fairly bursting into the open, throbbing lewdly. Brandy gasped, her eyes lighting up and her tongue stroking her lips. “Oh fuck yeah,” she breathed, leaning in, inhaling deeply as she lovingly nuzzled his cock. “Oh fuck yesssss. Soooo good.”

Sid gasped, stiffening as her tongue slid from her lips, teasing the tip of his manhood. “B-Brandy! I uh, I don’t think…”

“That’s good,” Brandy breathed, her tongue stroking his throbbing tip, teasing with every lap. “Men don’t need to think. Just gotta fuck. Gotta cum. And Brandy’s gonna get herself a good taste…”

Sid knew he should tell her no. Push her away. Especially with Millie around. What would she think? What would she say? What if someone walked in?

Then, Brandy’s plush lips parted.

Slid over his head.

Down his length.

And every other thought just flew out of his mind.

“O-oh fuuuuuck!” Sid groaned, head falling back.

“Mmmm,” Brandy replied, her lips gliding over his shaft, slow and gentle. Savouring it like he was a fine glass of wine. Her free hand came up, pulling more of him out into the open, her fingers cradling his balls, spoiling his manhood with affections he hadn’t even dreamed were possible.

“Hooooly fuck,” Sid gasped, his hands groping for something to hold onto and finding her pigtails. He grabbed them like a pair of handlebars, and for an instant he thought again of pushing her away. Pushing her off.

But then her lips slid up him again.

Then down.

And instead he started to thrust.

“Mmmmm,” Brandy moaned, letting him set the pace. Letting him fuck her face, her breasts slapping lewdly against her chest and his legs. Sid groaned, lost in the sensations consuming him as he fucked the gorgeous coed’s mouth. Fucking hell! No wonder she kept stealing boyfriends. Lips that good were an utter sin!

“Fuck,” Sid gasped, knowing it was wrong what he was doing, but knowing only made it all the sweeter. “Oh fuck yes. Take it… take it deep. Use your tongue more. I… nnnnn!”

He groaned, head falling back. Fuuuuuck. It was unreal how good it was! He was primed pretty much as soon as he’d walked into the house, and it only made the sensation that much sweeter. He was absolutely losing himself in those lips. In that mouth. The feeling of her hot tongue sliding around his shaft driving him towards the brink!

He was hammering her now, pounding into her mouth, and her exertions easily matched his. If anything, she seemed more desperate to make him cum. More eager to taste his seed. Her fingers stroked and massaged his balls. Tender. Encouraging. Insistent. Practically pumping them. Massaging them. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, he wasn’t going to last. He just wasn’t going to last! He… he was… he was…

“F-fuuuuuuuuck!” Sid cried, legs quivering, a cry of helpless surrender escaping his lips as he came, pumping into Brandy’s mouth, feeling her adoringly guzzle his hot seed, moaning happily.

The pleasure was unlike anything he’d felt before. Strong. Heavy. He felt his head spin as he fell against the wall, weakness radiating through him as he basked in the afterglow, Brandy’s lips caressing his cock, milking out the last few drops she could.

“Holy… holy shit,” Sid breathed. Then he looked down and saw what was sprouting from Brandy’s bare back. “Holy shit!”

He stared at the pair of leathery bat wings in dull incomprehension. For a moment he thought they were some strange cosplay or props. But then he saw them flutter. Flex.

And noticed too the spaded tail sprouting right above her luscious ass.

“Mmm?” Brandy hummed, lifting her head, revealing the pair of horns growing from her brow. Not to mention the slits of her pupils giving him bedroom eyes that sent his cock throbbing despite his horror.

He gaped at her, for a moment too shocked to do anything but stare. Then he saw her notice his cock, and a hungry grin lit up her face again.

“I… I g-gotta go,” he gasped, cramming his shaft back into his pants, holding them shut with one hand as he staggered back to the door.

“Wha… hey! Waaaait!” Brandy wailed.

Sid didn’t. Even though her plaintive cry pulled at him like a leash, he stumbled out the room and slammed the door shut behind him. His hands fumbled with his fly and zipper as he thudded down the stairs. Something was wrong in the house. Something was so very wrong!

He reached the landing and looked up, and had the second shock of his night.

The room was awash in a sea of red and blacks. The lamps had been turned down, their glow casting deep shadows over writhing bodies. He saw his entire class there, rutting like animals. The drunken making out had progressed much further. Not a man there had less than three women grinding on him.

But they were far more than women.

Everywhere he looked, bat-like wings were fluttered. Spaded tails lashed with delight and horns glistened in the glow of the lamps. Clothing had been abandoned, leaving curves of unearthly perfection and tantalizing seduction on full display as men were drowned in kisses of delight. As breasts were massaged and bodies arched, throats moaning in sultry pleasure. The slap of flesh thumped to the music. Fangs gleamed between ruby lips, and men moaned, their eyes lidded, but what looked like pink hearts throbbing in their pupils.

Sid staggered back a step. He looked across the room at the exit and knew that was a lost cause. He dared not cross that orgiastic trap. He retreated another and his back hit something with a hollow thunk.

A door!

He reflexively reached down, his searching hand finding a handle. He turned it, and fairly tumbled backwards into darkness.

Getting his feet back under him he shut the door quickly. Darkness enveloped him and he groped about the walls. A light switch. There had to be a light switch! He sighed in relief as his finger found one and he flicked it on.

The buzz of the bulb illuminated some sort of study. He looked around with bewilderment at the bookcases filled with rotting tomes. The scattered shelves filled with jars and strange artifacts.

“What in the…” he murmured, though really, he shouldn’t be surprised. An occult side room was far from the strangest thing he’d seen tonight. And honestly, fit the whole thing pretty well. Especially given the rather large bed occupying a far corner, the sheets rumpled. Not much of a mystery what that had been used for lately.

As he surveyed the room, he suddenly heard the door creak. “Sid?”

He whipped around to find Millie standing in the doorway, peering down at him through her large glasses. “There you are,” she sighed, stepping inside. “I told you not to wander off. Ah,” she added, looking at his face, a pout pushing out her lips. “And you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

Sid retreated several steps. “S-stay back, demon!”

Millie’s pout deepened. “Oh dammit,” she growled. “Which of those dumb bitches told you? No, wait. It was Brandy, wasn’t it? That stupid bimbo. Is it any wonder we lock her up when the party gets started?”

“I-I’m not kidding,” Sid said, looking around. His eyes locked on a long knife carved with runes on a shelf. He snatched it up, brandishing it before him. “Seriously! Don’t come any closer!”

Millie sighed, looking more exasperated than angry. “Honestly. Makes me wonder why I bother putting all this work into the disguises,” she mused, and snapped her fingers.

Sid’s eyes bugged as her clothes seemed to burn away in a flash of fire. Plump breasts bounced into the open. Dark horns curled from her brow and long legs climbed to sensual thighs. She stood at ease, one hand resting on a lush hip, her breasts giving a teasing bounce as she shifted her weight, her skin tinting a rich red before his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped.

“There,” Millie said with a smirk. “Now that’s the look I was aiming for.”

“S-stay away!” he yelped, taking another step back. “You won’t… won’t have my soul!”

Millie giggled. “Oh,” she purred, taking a lazy step forward, her wings giving a beat, wafting the sweetness of her perfume into him again. “Is that what you think I’m after?”

“A-aren’t you?” Sid demanded, retreating again, his body tingling as he inhaled her scent. His cock throbbing in his pants again.

She gave him a pitying look. “Poor Sid,” she crooned. “Such a silly boy. Sure, maybe I’d eat the souls of the rest of those dummies in there. But not you. I wanted to save you for something extra… special…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“Do you like my breasts?” she asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“It’s not a hard question,” Millie asked, cupping those plump crimson orbs, hefting them teasingly. “Not hard like you are. Do you like them? Most do. They’re so big and soft and bouncy…”

Sid gaped, his eyes instantly riveted to those ample orbs as she gave them a teasing bounce. “I… I don’t…”

“They’re even bigger when I’m in my true form, aren’t they?” Millie crooned, squeezing them together, squishing them with another bounce. “So big and soft and bouncy. So firm. That’s the problem with playing human. You have to be more… realistic. More believable. But we all know what men really like, don’t we? They like them big. And soft. And bouncy!”

Catching himself staring, Sid jerked his attention back to her face. “Y-you won’t trick me!”

“Now Sid, don’t be silly,” Millie giggled, her eyes smoky, her smirk teasing. “I’m being more open with you than ever. I’m baring it all for you. My horns. My skin. My fat, bouncy tits.”

His gaze wavered. He was breathing hot and fast. Breathing in that perfume. That heavy, spicy perfume… “You… I…”

“Now now. Don’t pretend,” Millie cooed. “I know how much you love staring at them. I could feel you fighting not to look at them whenever we talked in the halls. So naughty of you trying to resist like that, Sid. Why, every time I took a deep breath, your eyes would just… pop!”

She gave her chest a sudden bounce. Sid felt his breath catch. His thoughts swirl and froth. He tried to shake it off, but his head felt strangely light. His hands shaking as they gripped the knife, its tip wavering.

“I… I don’t…”

“You were trying sooooo hard to be a good boy,” Millie cooed, stepping nearer. Nearer. Every movement punctuated by a swing of her hips. A flap of her wings. A bounce of her chest. “Being soooo polite. Soooo sweet. Sooooo caring. Never thinking that I wanted you to stare. That I wanted you to drool. That I wanted you to ask me out so I could ride that cock of yours and bury you under the tits you loved so much.”

Sid whimpered, his face burning hot. Flushed as she continued to lazily approach. Her wings fluttering, framing her, outlining her gorgeous figure, her hooves clicking on the floor.

Click.

Click.

Click.

“S-stay away,” Sid whimpered, suddenly recalling he should say that, yet the command lacked conviction. His head pounded with his pulse. Throbbing like his cock. His cock begging him to abandon reason. Abandon everything. Just fuck her. Touch her. Adore her. “I m-mean it!”

Millie smirked, and he knew she sensed his hesitation. Her eyes lidding in tantalizing hunger.

“You’re such a good boy,” Millie purred. “Always so sweet and nice. I’ve had my eye on you for weeks. But you just never seemed to come around. Always so shy and nervous around pretty girls. So I decided I’d better take the initiative. But not to date you. No no. I couldn’t stand that, Sid. Couldn’t stand you doing something silly like trying to be a gentleman and waiting for the fourth or fifth or sixth date before holding hands. I don’t have that kind of patience, Sid. I want you now. I want you to pound my pussy into pudding. To rut me like a fucking slut! To mold and squeeze my tits like dough and suck my nipples until I’m fucking putty!”

The fire in her eyes commanded Sid’s attention. Mostly. He still found it so hard to look away from her crimson breasts. How hard her nipples had become. How her fingers teased and rolled those buds in desperate arousal.

“I don’t just want your soul, Sid,” she continued, her words silken. Hot. Wrapping around him like the coils of a snake. Squeezing so sweetly. So lovingly. “I want you. I want to make you mine. All mine. Your silly mind. Your hot fucking body. And yeah,” she shrugged, her breasts again bouncing, “I want your soul too. But I want it all, Sid. I want you. I want to entrance you and love you and make you my adoring hunk of manmeat. I want to wrap you around my figure so we can make a whole new nest of hot succubi somewhere else.

“And I had the perfect evening set up for it,” she sighed dreamily. “A sweet little thing in my bedroom. Just you and me. We’d make out, and by the time I had you stripped and on my bed, you wouldn’t have noticed if I had two heads let alone wings and horns. But no,” she growled. “My idiot sisters had to ruin my evening. As always. So here we are.”

The back of his leg hit the bed frame, and Sid yelped as he toppled over and onto the sheets. The soft mattress bounced him, and he found Millie standing at the foot of the bed, smirking down at him, her golden eyes hungry and greedy.

“But then,” she purred. “There’s a certain appeal to this too.”

His hand flashed up belatedly, brandishing the knife. She glanced at it with amusement. “Oh Sid,” she hummed. “So defiant. So brave. But I have something I bet you’d much rather fill those hands with.”

His eyes returned to her breasts as she gave them another bounce. “I… I won’t,” he gasped.

“Just put it down, Sid,” she murmured, climbing onto the bed, straddling his legs, the heat of her body radiating through him and to his crotch. Her wings beat again, blasting his face with her perfume. His knife wavered as she loomed above him, smirking down, still cradling the plump orbs of her chest. “Just for a minute. Just to see if my big… soft… bouncy breasts are really as soft as they look. I promise,” she cooed, her hand stealing into his lap, opening his pants, “I’ll make it so… very… good…”

Sid wavered. Sweet fuck those breasts were so big. So soft. He inhaled deeply, and her perfume swam up his nose and into his head like pleasant pink clouds. Would it… would it really be so bad? Just for a bit? Those guys in the living room had seemed so happy.

Couldn’t he try?

Just for a moment?

“That’s it,” Millie murmured, her voice soothing, coaxing as the tip of the dagger dipped. “Just put it aside. Keep it close. You can snatch it up any time. I’m utterly at your mercy.”

That was a lie.

A bald faced lie.

But Sid slowly lowered his arm.

Set the knife down beside him.

“Such a good boy,” she said with a throaty, mocking note that made his cock twitch in his pants. Then she grabbed his belt, and hauled down both his pants and boxers.

His cock sprang up, twitching, thick and hard. Millie’s eyes flashed and a hungry smile worked onto her lips. “Finally,” she purred, sliding down him until her ass was lifted into the air, her tail winding above her bottom as she fairly drooled over his cock. She nuzzled his length, moaning, the feel of her tongue sliding up his manhood shooting through Sid like liquid lust.

“O-ohhhhh!” he groaned.

“Mmm. That’s… wait,” Millie said, a pout forming on her lips. “This tastes like… booze?” She gave him a sharp look. “Did that bitch Brandy already suck you off?”

“A… a bit” Sid whimpered.

Millie scowled. “Stupid slut,” she growled, her fingers wrapping around his length, starting to stroke him. “She’s always being such a brat! I swear, Beezie never should have brought her over.”

Sid failed to answer, only panting gasps escaping his lips as her fingers pumped him, sending aching pleasure throbbing to his balls.

“Guess that only choice is to thoroughly mark my territory,” Millie said with another playful smirk.

“Y-yeah?” Sid gasped.

“Oh yeah,” Millie purred, lifting her head to his cock and letting her tongue glide along his length.

Sid cried out in delight as her lips reached his tip, kissing the twitching head, her tongue lapping up the first drops of pre. She moaned at the taste, positively lavishing him with her affections before she began to slide down, down. Millie’s head dipping, taking more and more of him into her throat.

Sid’s eyes rolled back. A moan of pure, undiluted ecstasy escaping him as the possessive succubi’s head began to bob, those sinfully perfect lips gliding up and down his manhood, taking him deep into the warm tightness of her throat.

“Oh f-fuuuuuuck,” Sid moaned, his hands clutching the rumpled sheets as Millie did her work, masterfully sucking him off, her fingers stroking the twitching orbs of his balls. It was a world of difference from Brandy’s work. Soft, tender, adoring, he could feel her love for him in every movement of her lips. His whole body trembled with pleasure. Surged with ecstasy.

“Oh… oh… Oh f-fuck yesssss!” Sid cried out, arching on the bed, his balls tightening as he surrendered his load at last.

“Mmmm,” the succubus groaned as she gulped down his hot seed, her lips dragging off his cock with an audible pop. Millie arched up, smirking down at him with smoky, lidded eyes.

“Mmm. Delish,” she purred.

“Holy… holy fuck,” Sid gasped.

“See?” she said playfully as she crawled above him, her tail swirling above her, forming lazy hearts. “Told you it would be good, my sexy stud. And I’m going to make you so happy, my pretty boy. When I’m done, you are going to be so in love with me. So obsessed with me. You’ll never stop thinking about my tits. My ass. Never stop wanting to taste my lips and kiss my pussy.

“And then,” she purred, planting her hands on either side of his head, smirking down at him. “You and I are gonna go out there and make ourselves a love nest. We’re going to summon up more succubi. Conjure up even more cuties like me to enthrall some hot boys. But not you,” she cooed, kissing his cheek, the feel of her lips shooting through him like liquid fire. His mind squeezed in delight. “Not you, my pretty stud. Sure, I’ll let some of the girls have a taste if they’re very good. But you’re all mine, Sid. My pretty thrall. My sexy dumb stud. And doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I-”

Her hips rocked back, and Sid gasped as the soft heat and slickness of her pussy brushed his shaft, stirring him again to aching hardness.

“What’s that? Didn’t quite catch it,” Millie cooed as she swung forward.

Her breasts bouncing.

Bouncing.

“I um… I…”

“You want to be mine?” Millie cooed, her rocking hips going a little lower, the tip of his cock rubbing her slit. Her perfume surrounding him in pink softness. Loving submission. “You wanna be my stud? My brainless boytoy? My hot, sexy plaything for me to corrupt and fuck and play with for ever and ever? Is that what you want? More of this?” she breathed, her breasts swaying above him, her pussy rubbing against his twitching cock. “More of me? More… of… my… tits?”

Sid panted, whimpering, almost whining in animalistic need for more of the beautiful succubus. More of her pussy. More of her breasts. He couldn’t look away. They enthralled him. The bounce. The sway. He caught her eyes, glowing hot like fire. Her smile filled with lust and amusement and knowing exactly what he would decide. Exactly what he would admit. Exactly what he would do for her.

Anything.

Anything at all.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped. “Y-yesss! Sounds… sounds gooood.”

Millie giggled. “Sure does,” she purred. “And that means you’re mine!”

Her hips dropped, her velvety pussy devouring his cock in a single stroke. Sid cried out beneath her as her hips met his, Millie moaning in ecstasy as she began to bounce, riding his cock with slow, loving strokes.

“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned. “Oh fuuuuck! My breasts. Oh fuck, Sid, grab my breasts. Grab your nnn… grab your biiiiig priiiiize!”

As if his hands were magnetized, they shot up and cupped those impressive orbs. He groaned in delight as he felt how soft they were. How plump. How absolutely perfect. Everything he’d dreamed they were. Even better than he could have imagined.

And his.

All his.

And he was all hers.

“Yes!” Millie cried, her pace increasing, the bed creaking under them as she fucked him. “Oh hells yes! Squeeze my tits. Kiss them. Lick them! Oh Sid. Oh hells, Sid, yes! Good boy. Oh gooood stud! Keep nnnn… keep going. I’m gonna cum. Ah. Yes. Yes! Gonna cum! And you’re gonna… you’re gonna gimme that mind. Make yourself mine. Give it all up to be mine! Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Sid! You can’t… I won’t l-let you cum until you say it! Until you beg me! Beg me to m-make you my stud!”

Sid didn’t hesitate a second. Almost before she finished speaking he was moaning, “Please! Please, Millie!” he cried, voice muffled by her expansive titflesh. “N-need to be yours! Gotta be yours! T-take it! Take anything! Just… just… just let me cuuuuum!”

A squeal of delight escaped Millie as her arms wrapped around his head, pulled him deep into her breasts, smothering him in her enthralling bosom. “Yes! Yes! Yesssss!” she wailed.

Sid felt her inner walls clamp around him, squeeze him in a shudder of rippling ecstasy. He groaned in pathetic pleasure as she came, her own orgasm milking his out of him. White light seemed to burst in his eyes as his balls tightened, cock pulsing as he gave her his seed in great, throbbing bursts. As he surrendered to the joy of her. To her breasts. To her pleasure.

The dagger was forgotten. His fear was forgotten. Everything was forgotten, sucked away in that moment of hedonistic bliss. Drained away like his seed. Sucked away by the gorgeous succubus above him. Taking his will. His soul.

Everything but her.

Everything but love for Millie.

Gorgeous Millie.

His perfect, beautiful mistress…

[storiesabouteli]

BitterSweet // Elijah Hewson X Reader.

requests: (1) pre-relationship!eli with an incrediblyyy oblivious and socially awkward girl that kinda avoided him bc he’s very charismatic and lowkey a fuckboy so she think he’s fucking with her 😭😭 and eli is tryna pursue her and making it obvious that he takes her really seriously + (2) i was just wondering if you could write an imagine where eli helps the reader with her anxiety / through an anxiety attack or something similar?

words: 3,6K

You had enjoyed the band; they were instrumentally solid, and their lyrics were captivating. Live, they were even better. Eli, drenched to the point that his hair was soaked, let out soft groans in between sung syllables. This was just the soundcheck, and though only a few fans were around, he was performing like it was the real thing.

“Think we can tweak it a bit more?” His voice pulled you back, a warning that you might be getting in over your head. Eli chuckled, eyes trailing over you from top to bottom with a slight smirk. You couldn’t tell if it was meant to intimidate, mock, or if he just found you pathetic.

“Of course,” you replied quietly, certain no one else heard. The walk over felt longer in your mind as the guys watched, and you reached for the guitar in his hands. His swift movement to pull the strap off revealed hints of muscle, all the pale skin and the brief brush of his arm, warm and damp with sweat, replayed in your mind.

“Will you be around?” His voice was deeper, smoother than when he sang, with a lazy edge that was almost too pleasant to listen to. You were getting paid for this entire experience. “It’s my job.” He raised his brows, that same confident grin tugging at his lips. You avoided direct eye contact, though you glanced at him from the corners of your eyes. You didn’t mean to sound so blunt. You were only here to set up the studio for their album recording—a short period, and soon enough, you wouldn’t see them again.

You liked them well enough, but Eli had that vibe of the guy who would’ve bullied you in high school. You thought you were past that. “I’ll be around,” you said more clearly, finally looking him in the eyes. He nodded, making a mental note of your face up close and the matching brand of your boots and his. Your delicate hand passed the guitar back to him, and he couldn’t resist; it was too easy.

“Thanks, pet. I’ll be needing you again soon.” Your gaze dropped quickly as you backed away. Josh overheard and laughed, while Eli turned a bit pink—no regrets, though. You knew guys like him. You’d worked with bands before, and you understood better than to let whatever that was get to you.

…

You only spoke when asked, keeping things strictly professional. Eli was openly watching you, blatantly, if honest. The producers asked you questions now and then, and you always responded, they’d nod and follow your advice right after. Eli already thought you were smart, which only made him more intrigued. You were focused, a little shy, content within your own bubble; he admired that. It was obvious you were fine like that, and he was bothering you, but he didn’t know any other way to approach you.

“Hey, uh…” he started, sitting across from you at lunch. Once again, you were alone, not in a bad way, just enjoying your break. “What’re you listening to?” You lifted one side of your headphones to hear him. He cleared his throat, needing to repeat the question before you could answer.

“It’s not the first time you ignore me like that, and I like it.” You had to bite your lip but still laughed, as if he were too much to believe.

“The Strokes,” you showed him your phone, sipping your Coke. You fidgeted with the strap of your white tank top, which happened to be just like the one he often wore—and was wearing now. Along with the boots, it was oddly charming.

“I love The Strokes, real teenage throwback. What are your favorites?” He smiled wide, a grin he hadn’t seen all day, feeling confident this was going well.

“See? We have so much in common,” he teased, even though, so far, it was just the band and clothes.

“I’m not a big fan,” you shrugged, “I think his voice is lazy and dragged out, not really my style, though the instrumental’s good.” His heart sank a little. You spoke so casually, completely unaware of the impact. Eli hadn’t found flirting so difficult before.

“All right,” he glanced around, watching you look at your empty plate instead of his eyes. “Did you enjoy yesterday? What did you think of the show?”

You briefly thought of the awkward moment adjusting his guitar with everyone watching and how he’d been appearing more and more on your social media—not him directly, but clips of him with fans. You’d even gained some random followers from being spotted with the band. Your feed was flooded with videos of him leaning close to a girl at the edge of the stage, his damp curls brushing her face. She’d clung to him, and he clearly loved the attention, even stopping post-show to chat and connect with everyone. It was an energy you didn’t have. You’d once wanted to be more like him but were now comfortable being reserved. He was just naturally good at it.

Then there was one photo—a girl holding his face in an intimate kiss—that made you pause. A fan captioned that Eli would make a perfect boyfriend, even if they weren’t together anymore. She was gorgeous, and he looked like he belonged with her. Him talking to you felt off, like he was doing it out of pity; you weren’t even on the same page.

“I really enjoyed it. You guys are very good.” You were honest, forcing a smile and pushing away your thoughts to show you meant it.

Eli wasn’t convinced of that. “Good to know. We’re close enough now to hang out and maybe share a cigarette or two.” You looked up at him, his hazel eyes gleaming, his freckles glowing with a hint of blush. He had that high-school-crush look, but it still didn’t make sense.

“Can’t you talk like a normal person?” In your mind, the question hadn’t sounded so hard.

“I don’t know; this way I get to keep talking to you, don’t I?” He raised his brows as looked away, noticing the rest of the band watching from another table. He could be over there, so why wasn’t he?

He dropped a crumpled napkin on the table and waited, saying he’d be persistent later when you just nodded, unsure what to expect. You were about to speak, and it was warming to see him actually paying attention, his caramel eyes fixed on you, his whole body focused—until he nudged the table, spilling half of the Coke onto your white top.

“Sorry,” his accent thickened, sending a jolt of anxiety through you. People glanced over, and Eli began wiping the spot, his hand brushing over the stain.

“It’s not helping,” you said, touching his shoulder. “Eli, it’s fine; you’re just making it worse.” Your firm tone made him stop, realizing you were right.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a little embarrassed, and he quickly noticed. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his black button-down and handed it over for you to wear. It wasn’t like you could refuse; you still had the whole afternoon before you could head home and change.

“Sorry, like, the flirting’s intentional, yeah, but I wouldn’t ever mean to harm you.”

You fiddled with his shirt, playing with the buttons. It smelled nice. He was now in a tank top like yours, and you remembered mentioning how you liked his arms before to the voices inside your head.

You cleared the table, picking up his napkin too, and he watched as you tossed his number into the trash on your way out.

“These things happen, I guess,” he chuckled, getting the closest he’d come to a genuine smile from you. The lighthearted way you suggested he’d done it on purpose; if he’d known that smile would come out, he certainly would have.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give it back,” you reassured him, grateful he wasn’t phased by the incident, though disappointed the conversation had ended, even if it wasn’t going great. At least it was something, and he got to appreciate how well his shirt suited you the rest of the day.

“It’s yours now, ma’am.”

…

At home, you made yourself dinner, still wearing his shirt. Sure, you told yourself it was just because of the chill, but deep down, you knew you wanted his scent—cologne mixed with a hint of cigarettes—lingering around you. Despite your reluctance, you eventually washed and dried it to return it properly. As you lay down in bed, a wave of mental relief washed over you, savoring the solitude after spending nearly the whole day with them fine-tuning songs. You picked up your phone, intending to scroll until you drifted off, when an Instagram notification popped up. Opening it, you saw he’d followed you and even sent a message. You set your phone aside for a moment, feeling like he was physically there; somehow, it made no difference.

When you accepted the request and opened the DM, the first thing you saw was a picture: a can of Diet Coke spilling onto his jeans, captioned with, “Thinking of you.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself. Eli probably thought it was funny—maybe it was, in a way. “You there? Am I getting ignored online too?” It made you realize you'd left the chat open, staring blankly. “Sorry, was busy,” you replied, though you instantly regretted it, realizing you could've been friendlier.

The typing dots popped up again, followed by, “With something more important than me?” You had to admit, his shameless confidence was quite charming. “Washing your shirt to return it. Hopefully, you won’t try that again xx,” you replied, heart-reacting to the Coke photo he’d sent. You didn’t want him to think you were actually ignoring him. After a pause, just as you were about to drift off, his final message came through. It was a voice note, low tone, a little sleepy, smooth.

“Uh, don’t see the problem, you know? Got to talk to you, and now you’ll return my shirt with your scent on it. You’re making this hard for me.” You could practically hear him smiling through the words, and once again, you found yourself grinning into your blankets.

…

You know those days that just aren't good? Your eyes ached, and there was a sharp pain in your head. Before entering the studio, some girls in Inhaler shirts were gathered near the entrance. They greeted you, and you nodded back, answering a few quick questions about them. You were polite, so one of them handed you her number, asking if you could give it to Eli. You took the slip of paper—it seemed routine, as if he received these often. She was beautiful. Your mind wandered to the number of girls chasing after him, not just here, but everywhere.

"Bobby’s sick; they’re not coming in today." One of the producers announced, and you felt a bit guilty for being relieved. Today, you didn't want to see anyone. It was hard to explain—if you knew how to avoid it, you would. Your chest felt like it was being crushed, heart racing, the familiar grip of anxiety that you just couldn’t make stop. As you thought about leaving, it hit you that you'd have to pass by those girls outside and take the bus home alone. You also worried about the delay in recordings, though you didn’t think Bobby should be there if he was unwell.

"Uh, you here by yourself? We won’t be recording today; thought someone might’ve told you. I just needed to grab my stuff." Eli shook his lighter, a rescuer in disguise. You held a cigarette between your fingers, hoping it would distract you, but you were restless, tapping your boot on the floor and fumbling in your pocket for your own lighter to no avail. He didn’t seem to notice anything wrong—at least he didn’t show it. His curls were perfectly in place, his jacket pulled over his arms, and that familiar, inviting smile. He’d clearly spent some time talking outside.

You opened your mouth, numb lips struggling to hide how off you felt, but no words came. He stepped close, his rings catching the light, and you focused on how nice his hand looked—a random, sudden thought that made you frown slightly. "Let me help," he whispered, his minty breath brushing your face. With the cigarette at your lips, you kept patting your jeans for the lighter. This was the closest you’d ever been to Eli; his fringe touched your forehead, and you realized how easily you could rest your head on his shoulder if you just leaned in. He sparked the lighter, holding it to your cigarette, his scent dizzying. His hand brushed your shoulder, and you wanted more. His calm eyes took in your vacant look as his fingers traced down your arm. For the first time, you couldn’t look at anything but his steady gaze. His freckles seemed to judge you silently, wondering why you had no control over yourself.

Seeing you weren’t taking a drag, he pulled the cigarette from your lips and placed it in his. "You can hear me, right?" His thumb brushed your palm, and you focused on your breathing as your eyes began to water. Eli was patient, his calm presence grounding you as you tried to steady yourself. Holding your hand, he gently pressed it to his chest so you could feel his heartbeat—thankfully steady. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Feel that, love?" Closing your eyes, still feeling overwhelmed, you listened to his words. "Just breathe with me. You’re not alone; it’s all gonna be fine." His voice was a balm, and slowly, it started to sink in.

"You’re doing great; you wouldn’t even need me here," he said softly, matching your small laugh with his own. Your knees gave way slightly, and he held you by the waist, you were closer than ever before. "We can just sit here until you’re alright, yeah?" You nodded, sinking to the floor beside him, surrounded by a few guitars. You toyed with the rings on his fingers, finding it a welcome distraction, and he didn’t mind. Exhausted, as you always seemed to feel, Eli noticed your tired, red eyes and pulled you against him. It was only his shoulder, but you let yourself lean in. He took a drag from the cigarette, ready to toss it aside to focus on you, but you took it from him, repeating his movements.

"So, that’s our first kiss," he murmured, his usual flirty tone and smug grin returning. He seemed proud. "What?" you muttered, throat sore, but he didn’t need to hear it; he saw it on your lips. His free hand slid along your back, keeping you close, wanting to distract you from your own mind. He was good at it.

"The cigarette’s a swap of saliva, right? That counts." You wrinkled your nose, thinking how typical it was for him to come up with something like that. You put out the cigarette, tossing the butt away. Nicotine didn’t help much, but it was something—it was human nature, and you understood that. He noticed your shy smile, his effect on you having its way. "Not funny, Eli. I don’t get why you do this," you murmured, exhaustion pulling your eyes closed, though you stayed nestled against his soft shoulder. He swallowed, realizing you weren’t playing a game; you were just oblivious.

"One of the fans outside even gave me her number to give to you." Your tone was gentle, though the crumpled paper in your hand suggested you had some opinion on it. "You think I’m just messing around with you?" He took your face in his hand, studying your troubled eyes. "Why would I do that? I wouldn’t flirt with you if I didn’t mean it. I don’t know how to be more obvious."

The firmness in his voice cut through like the edge of a blade. Now it was his turn to look at you like a puzzle piece he couldn’t quite figure out. You stared at him like he’d just spoken in another language, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Aren’t you? I mean… isn’t this just, like, a thing you do? Flirt with people for fun?” Oddly enough he was still comfortable, Eli could be anything but scary.

He looked at you, serious, shaking his head slightly, as if letting you slip through his fingers was out of the question.

Eli raised an eyebrow, his grin slipping. “Is that what you think of me?”

You fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re… you know…” Your voice dropped as if admitting the truth was embarrassing. “You’re you.”

He leaned closer, his voice low but insistent. “And what if ‘me’ wants you? What if I’m serious ‘bout this?”

Your eyes shot up to his, wide and startled, but you quickly looked away. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am,” Eli said, his gaze more serious now, one of those looks you couldn’t avoid. “I don’t just flirt with everyone. I don’t chase people. But I’m chasing you. What’s it gonna take for you to get that?”

His chest had been racing, but it started to calm as he took in your parted lips and the tears lingering in your eyes. He knew he was overwhelming you at a tough moment, and he hated that. His fingertips traced the bridge of your nose, lightly outlining your soft lines, enjoying how close you allowed him to be. “Are you okay, little one?” he asked softly, the edge of his jacket brushing your cheek to wipe away the last of your tears.

“Yeah,” you replied, the incident finally slipping away as you looked back at him, unable to focus on anything else. His careful eyes, the freckles scattered like constellations, each carrying its own name that you gave them—it was hard to think of anything but them. “God, I must’ve been such an idiot, right?”

He chuckled, his laugh warm and steady against you. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, gentle but grounding, repeating it a few times as if to anchor you. You rested your head against his chest, nestling your face there, feeling the safety of his warmth. Your arms wrapped around his waist, a quiet comfort settling in.

“You weren’t an idiot. If anything, I’ve been bugging you since I got here.” You murmured a soft agreement, and he laughed again.

“But it worked, didn’t it? What do you say?”

You hid yourself a bit more in his embrace, feeling good, as he held you close, content to be your shield.

…

There was a comfortable weight draped over you, not unpleasant in the slightest. Your legs were tangled up with his, and you could feel his breath against your shoulder, soon followed by a series of light kisses and playful bites. You laughed into him, accepting your fate, and hugged him tighter. “Good morning,” he murmured, his voice sounding even better with that just-woke-up rasp. You glanced around, fully taking in the scene. His hand rested on your waist, his touch warm, and he was amazing at reading you, always respecting your pace.

“No one’s here yet. I’m not about to get you in trouble.” You smiled back at him, genuinely relieved.

“So you’re gonna hide us from them, huh?” he teased. “Hurts my feelings a little, y’know?” You looked down at your feet, ready to counter him, but before you could, his face was close again. He pressed a soft, wet kiss to your cheek. His messy curls tickled you, and you ended up laughing.

“When I make you nervous like this…” he traced his thumb along your hands, which were colder than your hot cheeks. “Is it a bad thing? Does it bother you?”

You met his gaze, smiling with your lip caught between your teeth. “I like how you talk to me, Eli. I just… don’t know how to deal with it right away.”

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good. I like that—it’s cute how you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

So effortlessly, he pulled the same reaction from you as before. The two of you kept talking, stealing these quiet moments before anyone arrived. Eli picked up on your hesitance with him, knowing you thought he was too charismatic for someone like you. But he also made it clear he didn’t mind your quieter world; he’d be just as happy living in it if you’d have him there.

Later that day, you ended up with his jacket draped over your shoulders and his hand resting gently on your back. You got to listen Bobby complimented you, saying you were better at adjusting his bass than any of the past techs they’d worked with. The way he talked about you was similar to how Eli did, which made you suspect Eli had already mentioned you to them before, even without knowing you well yet. None of them questioned your sudden closeness with Eli, not even when he introduced you like they didn’t all already know who you were. They were welcoming, you felt at ease.

 Eli’s hand slipped from your waist slowly, your smile softening as he looked at you. He was enjoying the way things were going. “I’m gonna grab us some food,” he said, tilting your chin up and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And a Diet Coke too.”

 You grinned, your smile so wide it showed all your teeth. “Want me to come with you?” Before either of you could say more, Ryan appeared with a question about drum kits, and Eli could see in your eyes that you wanted to answer.

 “I’ll be right back, I promise, little one,” he chuckled, leaving you with them. Minutes later, Ryan mentioned, “It’s great that Eli managed to finally talk to you. We’ve been hoping to catch you since that project you worked on with Miles.”

 The statement was so casual that you raised your eyebrows, realizing it had been over two years since that project—quite some time if you thought about it. “You guys were looking for me?”

 Ryan nodded, as if it were obvious. “Actually, Elijah suggested it. He’s into the albums you worked on. It took a while—you’re not exactly easy to track down.” You laughed, looking at them, struck by how Eli had admired your work for much longer than you’d ever realized. You’d thought he was out of reach, yet he’d appreciated your work from the start.

 “Don’t break our boy’s heart, alright? We’d have to side with you then, but we’d rather not,” Josh added with a smirk, and you felt your face heat up just as Eli returned, grinning, with a Diet Coke and fries in hand.

 You figured maybe you could handle this, after all.

[cassandraclare]

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

  When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher.  it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore. 

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;) 

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say  it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol

(picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

if I was the guide I would try to help link more then just help him with puzzles and where to go next. I would try helping with enemies and bosses by distracting them, help with stealth missions by making noise to distract guards, scavenge for things like rupees, bombs, arrows, food ect, for them, watch over link while he slept,help teach them how to play instruments cuz i doubt they would automatically know how to play, help keep them warm at night, let link vent and not bottle up his emotions,ya know cuz the poor boy deserves some help. Maybe guide reader help teach the links how to fight, cuz time, wind, and maybe legend, hyrule and how to sword fight cuz there's no way time and wind would know how to sword fight when their journeys first began, they were just kids, legend and four might have cuz legends uncle knew how to use a sword and fours grandfather is a blacksmith and in the four swords manga his father is captain of the hyrule knights, hyrule I don't honestly know if the fairies taught him how to fight with weapons, twilight was taught by rusl, sky, warriors and calamity were training/were already knights, wild would definitely have to be re taught how to fight again, and sage already remembered/ relearned how. I don't know how old first, korodai and courage were when they first learned,How would the chain react to that if they remembered? Sorry it's so long.😅

Sorry this one’s been sitting so long! This is going to be a bit of a ramble, but it’ll make sense! Took some liberties!!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Player/Guide!reader is the epitome of comfort to the boys. Much of their lives they have been taught through experience to trust no one —not even their own goddess— lest they get a dagger in the back. And at first they are cautious. A person with no ties to hyrule who is so eerily familiar with the heroes and utterly bewitching? They’re half convinced you are a trick, meant to play on their insecurities and trauma.

Time gathers his recollections first. He remembers your calm voice correcting his form and swings, your encouragement to keep improving— not with the intent of killing, but with only his safety at heart. He’d buried his blade within the thick trunk of a tree and heard your old whispers through his ears, and it all made sense. That even as his bones were cracked and reformed and the threads of time unraveled, you were consistent. Even when he wasn’t the same him that you loved before, you were back again. Protecting him, even if he didn’t need it. You were arms for him to return to and someone to hold and love.

Legend remembered almost on accident. He’d bolted up from the solid earth, rings snagging at his hair as his fingers tugged at the root. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like that of a frightened animal. You’d cautiously found your way in front of him, talking him down from the world within. Your hands massaged his palms easing the tension and removing his hair from his grip. You’d done this many times before, he realised. You were all he had for the months after leaving Koholint, your unconditional love despite his less than stellar attitude was something he felt guilty to forget. But perhaps now he’d be content to make up for it by letting you keep him there, curled up against your chest… even if he’d get some teasing.

Twilight didn’t actually remember on his own. In fact, he’s so stubborn and protective over the ‘pack’ that he likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Epona. For a large part, he trusted her judgment. Most animals did have a keener sense for natural disasters, but she always seemed to have a good sense of character. Sure, it was odd enough she ate right out of your hand with a happy nicker, but she just really liked apples. She’s a horse, she’s easily bribed. But even then, he’s not sure how much bribing it would take for her to lay down and let you braid flowers through her freshly brushed mane. It was trust. From all the other times you did it absentmindedly —occasionally even to him— it seems her trust in character was still sharp.

Warriors was actually slightly embarrassed by how he came to remember. Dripping wet from the rain and favourite cloak littered with mud and holes, he was rather cranky. He got showered and changed —thank the three they were at an inn— and decided to leave the stained and worn clothes as a tomorrow problem. That was until his prized blanket scarf found its way into to your mits. He tried to snatch it back, earning some odd looks and the shutter of the sheikah slate. You were frustratingly difficult to catch. It seemed that hadn’t changed. When he was ultimately successful, however, he realised that you’d actually been making an incredibly successful job at washing and repairing it as you’d done thousands of times before. He remembers you my firelight, cobalt swathed over your lap as your needle glided through the fabric. He remembered trying to imitate your stitches. He remembered how he never quite got it right.

He let you finish working.

Four was having a crisis. Do not let his indifference fool you, this man is a wreck. Best believe that beyond his surprisingly stubborn stoicism, the colors are shaking each other by the shoulders and screaming. Red recognised you immediately. His heart was quite literally moulded after your soft words and carefully love, he couldn’t forget you so long as he had a soul. Green being the mediator between them all and heard his quiet utters. The most honest a man could be that his adoration was infectious. It was you who taught him who he was. Blue took a while. So strong-willed in his stance, the he forgot you were the one to teach him to take a stand. He forgot it was you who willed him to fight for what he loved. Vio fell last, what would you expect of the mind. He hardly noticed it. The way his thoughts timed to you, the way he sought your presence and craved your voice. It was you who taught them how to be separate and yet loved them wholly. And such loyalty could only be payed back.

Wind remembered you in fragments. He remembers his parent by oath, who shielded him from the vast world he was so desperate to see. He didn’t understand it at first. But loosing you, especially when his memory wasn’t fully gone like the others, was rough. He mourned and grieved, even if he didn’t realise it. He missed being cared for. Without the looming question of what favor needed done or when it would go away. He missed you. It took a while to heal. For him to feel ok trusting in people again, even eventually curling up next to Wars when he’d try to sleep. He felt guilty, as if he were betraying you when you dug up dead feelings. But it’s hard to be a rebellious rascal when your partner in crime is finally returned to you especially after you were concerned you killed them. It takes him a while to process your back, but he’s back at your side, tugging you along by the hand as he explains his next devious prank.

Hyrule remembers you through his magic. The way your heart stutters as he heals you is familiar, a beat he’s fallen asleep to many times before and the life within it is one he can’t help but feel… connected to. He keeps a close eye out, his ears wiggling at the familiar music of your laugh and his skin unfamiliar without your own to cradle it. You share a spirit with them, a bit of your soul and theirs and a small both of theirs in you. And yet his mind can’t call out to why. It keeps him awake, taunting at him. But he knows his soul yearns for the part with yours. He knows the rush of your blood and song of your soul. He knows he loves you. Even if he doesn’t get why.

Wild takes so long to remember you for exactly the reasons you’d expect. His mind hides away the most crucial parts of itself in plain sight, never to be noticed or recognized until the memories are far too warped and rotten to actually remember anything. Anything of note, that is. But for what it’s worth, he never really perceived you as a threat. You were homey and comfortable, a trait so unfamiliar to his life of travel, he didn’t care if it left a sword in his stomach. Besides, not any yiga could take on an act that long. He took off the cooked eggs and set them onto a separate plate as you sat quietly, Wind strewn over your torso. You hummed softly the same work song he’d sung for years. One for which he didn’t know the origin, not until hearing you for what felt like the first time again. He couldn’t help but hum along.

Sky was cursed to forget you.

I must preface because he is a lover boy first and hero second. He wouldn’t care who Demise was, nor his business, so long as you were safe and loved. He loved you more than each and every star in the sky. And he’d already began to start planning your home. He knew he loved you. He knew he was made to love you. And that was exactly why he was made to forget you. That loyalty was scary to the gods. That one would devote themselves to another for little more than love in return— Hylia could not risk her heroes to stray. But try as she might she couldn’t surpress you. Not when you were already married, souls intertwined through every timeline. Your role varied, a healer, a helping hand, a comfort, a home, a parent, a lover, a souse. But you were always someone to Link. No matter what the gods declared. He remembered you only after all the others had, but he’s alright with that.

[vivwritesfics]

Soo, I have an idea, bear with me, it‘s pretty specific (and slightly self-indulgent) but I think it could be nice

Basically, reader has been with Lando for a while already. She played piano as a child but for whatever reason stopped but when Charles releases his piano songs it inspires her to get back to it and Charles ends up helping her practise and they become really good friends (but honestly purely platonic, maybe even siblings vibes) over it. Cue a little bit of angst when Lando gets worried about his girl spending so much time with another guy. But ta-dah, happy end, it turns out that Charles helped her write a song for Lando as a birthday or anniversary present

I absolutely understand if you don‘t want to write this, I just had a little daydream about it and thought you‘d be the perfect person to write it!

Lots of love for you and your works <3

I made the reader Jules Bianchi's little sister

F1 Masterlist

Ever since Jules' tragic passing, Charles had felt a certain sense of protectiveness over his little sister. Everybody thought they were going to start dating, that Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc were destined to be together.

Just like her brother, her life was motorsport. She wasn't a driver, that had never been her desire, but she knew everything there was to know about Formula One. She followed Charles around the world like she wanted to with her brother, supporting him like she would have Jules.

She found love at the race track, but not with Charles.

It was 2019, his rookie season when they met. She had been walking through the paddock, making her way to the Ferrari garage, when she bumped into him. In his McLaren shirt and orange hat, nineteen year old Lando Norris was adorable. It took maybe two years before he finally asked her out. They had been happy together ever since.

Something that most people forget when talking about Y/N Bianchi was her love for music. She had been playing since she was a child and it was something she had used to get through her brothers passing.

She could play several different instruments. While Jules was karting, she was practicing violin, piano, and more. But piano was her favourite of them all.

She still practiced regularly, but it was at the back of her mind as life went on.

But then lockdown happened. She and Lando had just started dating, so she was stuck at home in France, left to call him regularly. She called Charles, too, since he was like an older brother to her. As they talked he walked her around his apartment, setting her up against different surfaces as he did something.

"Charles, is that a piano?" She asked as she looked past him.

He took her closer to it, showing her the new piano he had bought over lockdown.

That was what sparked her playing again.

They didn't have much of a chance to practice together after the season started up again. They still showed each other videos they had taken of themselves playing, but they never played together.

Not until just before Lando's 24th birthday.

Actually, it was the summer break, several months before. But she liked being prepared. Lando had been so fucking excited to spend summer break with her, but she had to blow him off, told him to have fun without her.

Instead she was in Monaco with Charles. They were spending a few weeks in his apartment, writing together until they had a song. Charles had booked a studio, where they recorded together.

***

On the day of Lando's birthday he was woken up with a kiss, breakfast, and a good ol' shag.

"I got you something really special this year," she said as she walked in from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair. "Do you remember over summer break, when I stayed in Monaco with Charles?"

Lando's expression darkened. "Yeah, I remember," he grumbled. He knew the nature of her relationship with Charles, but he'd also seen what had been said about the two of them.

Sitting beside him, Y/N ran her hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lan, what's up?" She asked, pouting at him.

Lando threw his head back, exposing his throat as he groaned. "I get sent the articles of you and Charles back from before we started dating at least three times a week. And then you spent summer with him in Monaco and-"

Suddenly she put her hand over his mouth, and Lando softly bit her palm. "I was putting together your birthday present in Monaco. That's why I spent the entire summer with him," she said and pulled up her phone.

Lando sat patiently as she pulled out the song she had written for him. He listened to the piano notes she had put together, to the lyrics she had written. It was, to put it simply, beautiful. He could listen to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

"I... holy shit," he said when the song finished. "I fucking love you," He said. "That was incredible."

[thewriterwithsnakes]

could you write something for Ekko, literally anything except angst pls

The Ekko of A Violin

I'd love to! This is actually a mix of two asks for Ekko and I got a little carried away, enjoy!

@wallmayo asked for An ekko x female violinist reader who joins the firelights and they fall in love 🙏

I also kinda want to write more parts to this because it isn't super romantic yet, let me know if anyone wants more parts!

Summary: An undercity violinist hears about the firelights and wants to help, how will it pan out once she becomes acquainted with their devastatingly handsome leader?

Warnings: None really

The undercity was your home, no matter how rough it was. You grew up on the streets where people got robbed and maimed daily, it was a wonder you had survived it all.

But, there was one safe haven for you, an attic. When you were younger you discovered it, abandoned for the most part. The druggies downstairs were usually out or too high to even notice your presence so you found yourself coming back to the dusty room many nights, entertaining yourself with the things you discovered inside, forgotten like the room itself. One night you stumbled upon a smooth black case covered in a layer of dust. At first you thought it could be a weapon and you stayed weary of it. But over the next few days your curiosity got the better of you, and you opened it, brushing away the cobwebs and forgotten dreams.

Inside there had been an instrument, the case had kept it preserved and it also contained rosin and a bow. After that all your curious exploration of that attic fell away, outshined by your fascination with the challenge of figuring out this violin. It took you weeks up in that attic to not make your own ears bleed, but eventually, you started to get the hang of it. And once you got going, you couldn't stop. You played any music you could remember hearing, and when you didn't want to play that, you made it up as you went. Most of your teenage years were spent in a similar fashion, slinking through the streets and rooftops of the undercity to get to your refuge. When you played, the undercity melted away as you focused on each note, on the pitches and your techniques.

You figured that was how you survived the undercity without totally losing it like most people did. So when you found out about the firelights, the people who did their best to give a safe haven to people, you had to join. You wanted to help your home and it's people, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Growing up in the undercity made everyone rough around the edges and you were no exception. You'd had your share of struggle and you knew what to expect as a firelight in general. You met up with a firelight who would bring you to their mini oasis in this desert of depravation that Silco created, a desert he branded Zaun.

Upon arrival you saw quite a few people dressed quite similarly in what you presumed to be their armor. You bit your lip in nerves until your eyes laid upon the majestic tree infront of you. Sucking in a breath, you gazed in amazement at the wonderful world they created. It seemed like a whole different universe, so detached and different from the rest of the undercity. The only detail that wasn't was the mural that sprawled put across the base of the tree. It had some familiar and unfamiliar faces on it though you knew none personally. Your heart jumped at the idea of being able to live in a slice of this paradise, you weren't sure it could get any better and you couldn't wait to help.

You met Ekko your first day their, though you didn't know that. You didn't even know his name, which was purposeful on Ekkos part. You knew that name belonged to the firelights leader and he wanted to see how you acted when you didn't know. You had your violin case clutched tightly in your hand along with a small bag you packed, this would be your new home. As you bit your lip and tried suppressing a hopeful smile, a man approached you and your guide. He simply smiled and nodded at the firelight next to you who seemed to get some sort of message and left.

"Are all firelights telekinetic or is that just you?" You shot the man a joking smile in hopes that this environment would be kinder than the undercity. He let out a laugh that took your breath away.

"Not telekinesis, sugar, just mutual understanding" He shook his head in playful disappointment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "Come on, I'll show you to where you will stay,"

"Thanks, this place is certainly going to take some getting used to," You commented as you looked around, still a little starstruck at all of it. He led you to a small room with a simple bed and small dresser in it.

"Here is your luxury bedroom madam" He gave you a playful bow as he spoke in an attempted piltover accent. "Oh here m'lady let me handle your extensive luggage" He grabbed your bag and you couldn't help but snort.

"God that accent is terrible" You laughed and set your violin case down.

"Really?" He asked sarcastically. "I thought it was simply marvelous," The matter of fact attitude combined with the horrendous accent nearly had you doubling over laughing. He caught sight of your violin case and asked if you played. After a short quip back from you about how you just liked to stare at it combined with an eyeroll, you laughed and and said yes. He asked if you would like to play for the firelights occasionally, to help boost moral. You deliberated for a moment, you hadn't really played for other people before, but you had come here to help, right?

"Sure, why not?" You smiled and he was clearly happy to get that answer.

"Alright well I'll see you around," He stepped back and swung your door open to step backwards out onto the balcony that led to the stairs.

"Wait, I didnt catch your name!" You took a quick step towards him.

"I didnt get yours either, sugar," He winked and stepped back off the balcony and you let out a short scream. He appeared in the air on a hoverboard-like contraption with a smug smirk on his handsome face before he sped off into the night. You were left standing on your balcony, speechless, and for the first time in a long time, looking forward instead of backward.