#very cute how they used his song titles in the text

[dreamings-free]

11/9/24

[k-zuzu]

홍중

kim hongjoong 𖹭 fem idol!reader

DESTINY.

synopsis: idol!reader is very open about her love for ateez kim hongjoong, scandal breaks, they end up together. (feat. bang chan of skz being wise.)

content: eventual smut mdni, cringe/crack, angst if u squint, strangers2friends2lovers, reader uses she/her pronouns, slow burn?, this is shit, choppy storyline lots of time skips and anticlimactic, fluffy?, lots of use of the pet name 'baby', cuddling, big sexy hongjoong, swearing, not proofread, lowercase intended. explicit warnings: in the studio couch, handjob, p in v, no prep, vanilla, unprotected, creampie, sub/dom undertones?, virgin/inexperienced reader

guide: italics in dialogues are used when they speak in korean. chat fonted dialogues are comments and exchanged texts. long blocks of dialogues are used during lives because they're not really doing anything apart from speaking!

zuzu's note: main masterlist. the girl in the picture is just a reference/icon to get the overall vibe of the "idol aesthetic." also, because it's difficult to make things neutral, i created your group and fandom's name, and also put in a groupmate's name in as placeholders because it's difficult to write without mentioning them lol.

you spent two years honing your skills as a trainee at a modest, struggling company before rising to fame as the leader of your own group, DESTINY. your impressive duality on stage, seamlessly transitioning from intense, commanding dance moves and mature raps to the charming, feminine aegyo concept, quickly won over fans. your first award was hard-earned for your sultry debut song titled "Sit." (in which you would subtly imply that you want to sit on someone's face).

you, in particular, gained a significant international following because of your hilarious bedroom lives where you would often deliver sassy comebacks to fans, showcase your impressive english language skills, and share random chatter that fans couldn't help but love. Initially, you became known for your goofy on-screen personality. however, as your talents and stage presence shone through, it was no surprise that people fell for you.

DESTINY has cemented their status as THE 5th generation girl group, making waves in the music industry. numerous renowned idols you adored in the past (one of which, was Kim Hongjoong) have taken notice of your group's bold lyrics and praised your distinctive style and captivating concept.

one day, you decide to hop onto instagram to go live and have a casual chat with your dedicated fans, also known as fates, during a brief pause from rehearsing the dance routine for your upcoming comeback album titled "idgaf." despite having beads of sweat clinging to your forehead and being slightly winded from the dance, you maintain a casual conversation with your viewers;

"so, a few days ago i was on my phone and i was watching these uh, these compilations of other idols talking about me—" you pause to catch your breath and slightly chuckle at how ridiculous you sound. "someone made one of those cute videos on youtube." you repeat in korean. "my favorite part was when they showed ateez reaction to me casually rapping that one part in WORK during one of my lives..." you took a deep inhale and looked away as you thought about it some more. "hongjoong-sunbaenim was sooo, aaaagh! he was— i mean, okay, so, don't like, make a big deal out of this, but i had a hugeeee crush on him for so long, so long, like, before i debuted, i swear, his charizzma is unmatched!!! aaaaaGH, he COMPLIMENTED MY RAPPING IN THE VIDEO! and then i began to wonder if, like, was my rapping even good? damn, i could've done better if i knew hongjoong-sunbaenim would watch it. he was also, actually my inspiration as a leader and a producer..."

you continued chattering on, unaware that your manager would soon reprimand you for discussing that particular topic, citing potential negative consequences. however, it wasn't a major issue, since your fans actually valued your candidness. sure, there were a few hateful remarks scattered among the positive comments, but many responded positively, with remarks such as:

"help she's so real 😭"

"waaah, wishing i was hongjoon rn"

"she can't have hongjoong! he is dating atiny" — "she is atiny tho?" someone replied.

"totally ship them" and it was all enough to make your day.

it's not too long before you come across a reel on instagram that many fans tagged you in; hongjoong reacting to a clip of you simping over him on your livestream. your heartbeat picked up its pace and you sat up properly, raising the volume on your phone as you mentally prepared yourself for the video.

"yahh, i already saw this." he says and you pause the video. fuck. you play it again. "honestly, i thought it was a bit cute." you blush and kick your feet until he speaks again. "it's rare to see junior idols showcasing their admiration for their seniors, but it's really nice, i really like it... especially when they admire me," he shows a heart to the camera. "y/n, if you're watching this, please continue to show your love and support to ateez!"

you were a little disappointed because he seemed to spin it off that you were just a supportive junior/atiny, but you decided to brush it off.

weeks pass and the topic dies down until a photo of you and hongjoong chatting while he signed your album at their fansign event was spreading around the internet and rumors began — you didn't think it would be hidden since it was a public event, but you also didn't think that it would be a scandal. it's your first time being able to chat with hongjoong at all and the dating rumors are just ridiculous. your manager gives you the go signal and you decide to address the rumors by going live in your iconic bed, the lights are dim and you're bare faced, wearing glasses —

"helllooo..." you adjusted the camera at the foot of the bed and you laid on your stomach in front of it. "yesterday... i met kim hongjoong-sunbaenim of ateez..." you paused as you thought about what to say next — you didn't want a script, you wanted to stay yourself: authentic and genuine.

"and today, i was very disappointed because many fates say that we are dating and expressed their hatred for the idea... i would like to point out that i only admire him now as my senior and inspiration for being an idol! i would like to address that, honestly, the dating rumors are a bit ridiculous just because i said i had a crush. it was my first time meeting hongjoong-sunbaenim," your tone was a bit defensive and pouty, you paused as you fiddled with your earring and stared at the camera, snivveling.

"it was my very first time meeting him, it was awkward. more awkward than if he was with a regular fan, maybe because i am an idol and i expressed my admiration for him very publicly, but he was very kind and considerate about it. he really expressed his appreciation for me as his junior and atiny and that was the extent of our interaction. i hope you guys don't spread rumors like this again even if it's true, it would be private business and you shouldn't gossip about someone's love life like this. if you guys like it so much, i suggest you guys focus on your own." you make a light joke of the situation, slightly hoping you don't get hate for that as well. soon after that live, you posted a selfie you took with hongjoong at the fansign event with the caption "forever atiny! 🫶" and you decided to stop and stray away from the whole hongjoong topic because you didn't want to cause him any more trouble.

luckily, after that, many fates decided to come forward and be more open as they showed a lot of support for you and hongjoong.

"this is ridiculous! she shouldn't have to address those dumb rumors, please respect them! they are idols, your baseless rumors could ruin their career."

"i feel so bad for her and hongjoong. i love their innocent chemistry and i believe they should interact more often! male and female idols should be able to interact without being "accused" of dating. like she said, even if they are, it is none of our business! so sad that she'll probably have avoid him after this. so disappointed in whoever made the rumors."

months later, your group and ateez both were in Chicago, USA for your comeback world tour at the same time and while you were there, you decided to attend their concert and you screamed at the top of your lungs and went along every fan chant like a pro, you were far away from the stage so there were no hopes of being noticed — since it was convenient, your managers decided that your group and ateez should collaborate on dances of your comeback title songs, and naturally, you and hongjoong were paired together by your managers in hopes of using this dance as a warning for fans not to mess with the two of you. much to your convenience, the title track of your comeback album is "idgaf."

"hongjoong-sunbaenim!" you slightly jogged over to him and the staff and group members and bowed as deep as you could, your manager and fellow DESTINY members following close by.

"there's no need for that," hongjoong waves you off as you came back up and you chuckle slightly as you awkwardly look around the silent room — you often gossiped with your members about how you'd 'let hongjoong do things to you' among other questionable remarks, and right now you silently hope they wouldn't say a word about it. "i already learned the dance earlier, it's really good! i heard you choreographed it? " hongjoong attempts at small talk and you nod politely in response, holding your hands together, noticing the ateez members behind him glancing at you guys, whispering, and chuckling.

"yes, it took me a month to perfect the choreography before i taught my members." you explain, but before hongjoong could continue, one of the staff unknowingly interrupts your chat.

"okayyy, let's get started! in your positions, please."

you guys complete the dance on the second take, and once it was posted, the fans absolutely adore your chemistry (just as you did) they fawn over the idea of you and hongjoong together (just as you did).

after the posting of the dance, you have a casual live featuring your group mate, nina, who also spoke english. the theme; "doing face masks in my bed and eating ramen." during that very live, you receive a notification while your friend talks to the viewers. you picked you your phone to check what it was, your heart almost literally stopped.

kim hongjoong...

was...

following you back on instagram.

your eyes almost popped out of your head and you let out a really long high pitched screech.

"what? " nina looks at you, befuddled but laughing at your odd reaction. after a few seconds you still don't respond to her as you kick your feet. "ya, what is it? " she attempts once again and lean over your shoulder to check your phone but you slam it down on the bed. you slowly turn to her, trying and failing to contain your smile as you whisper so the audience couldn't hear.

"hongjoong-sunbaenim is following me on instagram..."

her eyes widen and she smiles. "are you sure?" she asked in a high pitched voice and you nodded frantically, showing her your phone. her smile widens and the two of you couldn't hold it in anymore — you both begin squealing and grabbing each others hands live and the fate's comments kept coming in.

"what are you two talking abouttt???"

"i didn't hear what she said!"

fans would soon understand what you were screeching about and this time, instead of dating rumors, it was "feeling" rumors. fans would gossip and speculate about how you two obviously had feelings for each other, other speculations include your "random chemistry" with hongjoong to be a marketing strategy — to always put you two together to gather more attention, likes, and fan reactions.

what they don't know is that they are correct on both accounts; because you and hongjoong so obviously had feelings each other the staff would always put you together.

the tipping point.

hongjoong posted a picture on his story of a ticket purchase to your world tour comeback concert.

the concert is coming to an end.

DESTINY is singing the encore, which is also your last chance; ever since hongjoong posted that on his story you made a plan. but you told everyone that it was in the heat of the moment when you did it. that's what you told yourself — the adrenaline, your sore muscles, your vocal cords beginning to strain, the screams of fate, the sound of your heartbeat, the thought of hongjoong. your lines in the song were coming close — before the beat drops, you skip toward the center and you raise your hand, microphone close to your mouth, you screamed.

"HONGJOONG-SUNBAENIM!" you scream out, your voice echoing through the arena. "this one's for you!" the fate fans erupt into a frenzy of deafening screams and cheers. the stunned expressions of the DESTINY members are captured on the iphone cameras held by fans. "FATE! let me hear you FUCKING SCREAM YOUR HEARTS OUT!" you shout, launching into the chorus of the song. as the beat drops and the intensity kicks in, everything around you becomes a hazy blur, and for a moment, your mind goes blissfully blank.

as the concert reaches its finale, the members of DESTINY retreat backstage to catch their breath and decompress. you immediately seek refuge in the nearest chair, plopping down and exhaling a loud, tired sigh.

"ya, y/n, what were you thinking?" nina sits on the chair next to you. "we don't know what could happen now."

that was the worst possible feeling to have as an idol. the anxiety of what comes next.

...it reminded you of the time mingi swore to jongho on a live.

"it's not that big of a deal," you say as you chug and finish an entire bottle of water. "it's to feed fate's hunger..."

"yaaah, how you think hongjoong-sunbaenim would react? " she ponders and you shrug, choosing not to think about it. despite your nonchalant demeanor, you completely regret it. 'how would everyone react?' sure, you constantly openly express your admiration for him everywhere else, but onstage was something else, 'what happened to professionalism?' you sigh and put your hand on your forehead. you're going to get in a lot of trouble with your manager now.

that nonsense yet iconic line would get you the title of the "most ballsy k-pop leader of the 5th generation " which is also the headline of the hit article that would later accuse you of being "too forward" with your "poor attempt" at bringing modern media and standards to korean culture and k-pop. back then, your line at the concert would not be acceptable, but now there are so many of your fans — your fates defending you, supporting you, and fighting all of the haters and closed fates who openly express their distaste and negativity for your unprofessional behaviour. you still believe that you deserve at least half of it.

it's no surprise that hongjoong doesn't share or post any public reaction to your iconic line of 2024, unlike you, an immature newer idol, he has been in the entertainment industry longer and is an expert on how to maintain professionalism, especially when it comes to dating scandals. agh, he probably lost his respect for you after that moment.

another few weeks pass. to your surprise, even after your unprofessional behaviour, DESTINY was invited to an award show, and during one of the performances, nature called, so you got up to head to the bathroom. in one of the hallways, the smallest of small chances and the most cliche of cliches happened. you and hongjoong stood in front of each other at the hallway that led to the bathrooms, you bow deeply and greet him softly, a bit embarrased you hunch in shame. "hello..."

"y/n-ah! " he's surprisingly relaxed, he raises a hand forward and you awkwardly double check it before high fiving him and he puts it back in his pocket. "how are you? i've actually been a bit of a fate myself these past few weeks and that thing you said at the concert wasss, wow."

'okay, so he addressed the elephant in the room just like that. was it even the elephant for him? it seemed like a koala, or... a chipmunk or something.' goes through your mind. you awkwardly chuckle and push your hair away from your face. "yeah... i'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable, i've regretted it ever since—"

"no! you don't have to be. it was cool. really cool. i liked it." he says. his cute, reassuring smile remains and you can't help but smile back.

"really?" you ask, you don't how pathetic you sound asking it but hongjoong liked how it came out of your mouth — your personality now is so soft-spoken and different from the "ballsy 5th gen leader" the internet made you out to be, he adored the duality. "i was actually super nervous, i was afraid you would think i ruined the face of my group or something and unfollow me on instagram..." you ramble nervously.

"ya, i would never! " he said and took his phone out. "i am a certified fate from here on out, you and are- are the fate-inies." he handed you his phone. "i was actually wondering if we can exchange contacts?" you look at him, shocked painted across your face.

"really???" you ask and don't hesitate to grab his phone. "of course!" you try your best not to sound too eager but of course, you fail. hongjoong laughs at your innocent reaction and you return his phone. he smiles, satisfied, and lifts it up and shaking the screen in front of you.

"i'll text you," he says casually. "will you reply?" you nod, trying to contain your smile because you don't wanna scare him away.

"of course! why else would i give you my number?" he makes way for you in the small hallway and mumbles a farewell as he waves his hand and he begins to walk away, you turn and watch him until he's out of sight before you run to the bathroom, slam the door behind you and scream your lungs out in the mirror. you totally lost the urge to pee and you return to your groupmates immediately after, already gossiping about what went down. later that night, DESTINY wins an award, you celebrate, and head back to your dorm, wash up and fall on your bed where you would receive a text from hongjoong.

hongjoong: "yo! congratulations on your win! i was very happy when DESTINY was announced and saw you onstage ㅋㅋㅋㅋ."

you bite your nail, thinking of your response.

you: "hi! tysm! congratulations on your award as well. it's expected of ateez-sunbaenim, i already see it coming ㅋㅋㅋ"

hongjoong: "ah, don't be like that. it's hard to live up to expectations"

you chuckle at his response. his typing style was different than you expected. you got ready to type out another response until he messaged again.

hongjoong: "btw, when r u available? we should celebrate our win together. as leaders."

your heart skips a beat... or two. is he asking you out?

you: "how about tomorrow night?"

hongjoong: "oh, no can do. ateez celebration party tomorrow with a few close friends."

you sigh and you're about to put your phone down for the night when you reel another vibration.

hongjoong: "unless u wanna come? ur more than welcome"

you: "idk, it might not be the best choice. will there be other female idols there?"

hongjoong: "uhh, ur being kinda dubious. do you want there to be female idols?"

you: "yes pls"

hongjoong: "then there will be female idols there. why? are you going to choose them over me?"

you: "ㅋㅋㅋㅋ only if the entirety of blackpink are there."

hongjoong: "it might seem crazy what i'm 'bout to say..."

hongjoong: "sorry but lisa was all we could book 4 the night"

you: "U FR?!"

hongjoong: "no"

hongjoong: "ateez is not made of gold. lisa-sunbaenim is also busy with more important matters"

hongjoong: "ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"

hongjoong: "...are you still coming?"

hongjoong: "..."

hongjoong: "y/n?"

you: "yes! it sounds great"

hongjoong: "great. i'll send u the details, see u there ;)"

...is that a fucking winky face? you swear this man is the bane of your existence.

you go to the party alone — and surprisingly, it isn't the small gathering you expected, there were so many recognizable faces, not just of idols, but actors. the venue is a large vip lounge of an underground club in the city. the interior was obnoxious and practically made of gold —you look around and see choi san leaning on a wall, alone. he's a familiar face that you're comfortable talking with. you make eye contact across the room and you walk your way toward him confidently. "hello, sunbaenim!! congratulations on your win~" you give him a soft smile and he smiles back, taking a sip from the glass in his hand — is that brandy? you watch as he silently puts the cup down on the table next to him without so much as a thanks to your greeting, he puts his hands on each of your cheeks, and you wonder if his drunk until you're flustered as he forcibly turns your head 90° to the right.

"hyung is over there."

you easily recognize your hongjoong.

he is chatting with who you recognize to be bang chan of stray kids but your eyes just lock in on him — everyone else around is suddenly blurred and he's the only one you see. you focus on the way his lips move as he speaks, the way he softly nods — this is him when he thinks you're not watching and it's so damn hot, him being himself. the mere fact that he breathes is hot. damn, you're so in love. san chuckles at how you already forgot he was next to you, he conks you in the head and walks away.

you walk toward hongjoong and excuse yourself to their conversation. "y/n!" he says enthusiastically and places a hand around your shoulders. "bang chan, i'm sure your familiar," hongjoong says casually and he makes eye contact with someone in the room — getting distracted, he walks away. of course, it's his group's celebratoon party, you weren't the only guest he would tend to. you awkwardly look up at bang chan and wave.

"hi, sunbaenim! i really love maniac and superbowl, amazing songs!" you give him two thumbs ups and he giggles bashedly, almost blushing — you knew bangchan to alwayd be a flustered mess, he never knew how to react to compliments. "also, i subscribed to your bubble once, wowwww." you tried to make small talk and he laughed once more.

"yeahhh, i can get pretty crazy there. you know, i would also watch your lives sometimes, you're funny!" he says, and you smile.

"you really think so? aaah, i know i have a lot of cringe moments, especially when i first revealed my crush on hongjoong."

"oh yeah, no, it wasn't cringe at all! everybody in the industry already saw your chemistry from before you mentioned it. i totally support you guys haha." he speaks casually and your eyes widen.

"wh-what? support our what? what do we have? what chemistry?" you ramble and bang chan chuckles.

"relax, relax — it's nothing, just, we see your flirting here and there and you two would be so cute together. but, if you want my advise, i wouldn't recommend going public with it, honestly. DESTINY— it's DESTINY, right? you guys just debuted, i don't think having a public relationship with an idol older than you is the right career choice this early on." he says and you nod along, you totally understood where he was coming from but when you stayed silent too long for comfort, bangchan tilted his head. "hey? did i say something wrong?"

you snapped your attention back at him. "hm? yeah, i mean NO! i completely understand what you said and i agree. plus, there's nothinggg between me and hongjoong, we're just... i don't know we're, okay, so there might be a little bit of a thing, but it'll take a long time until it actually becomes something~" you giggle and bangchan giggles as well and the two of you are just a giggling mess and hongjoong comes back to join your group.

"hey, what's all the giggling about?" he moves his head to look at you, then bang chan, then you, then bang chan — "isn't this your first time being acquainted? why are you two having so much fun without me? " then bangchan just smiles, then looks at you, then hongjoong, then you, then hongjoong.

"i'll get going nowww~" he says in a goofy tone and walks away.

"what's with him?" hongjoong mutters and looks at you. "have you eaten? eat! there's plenty of appetizers and foods around—"

"hongjoong-sunbaenim," you interrupt him. "ah, no... hongjoong-oppa." you look up at him, and he stares at you, expression blank but clearly flustered at the new title he got from you. "what are we?" you decide to live up to your title as the most ballsy kpop leader of the 5th generation and he chokes on air, eyebrows raising and eyes blinking repeatedly as he processes what you said.

"um," hongjoong looks around the room nervously, maybe concerned if anyone overheard what you just said. "i... like- hm? huh? i-" he can barely get a word out and you tilt your head, maybe you shouldn't have been to forward, it was wayyy too soon.

"sorry, you don't have to answer." you say calmly and he lets out a very obvious sigh of relief and you chuckle.

"felt like i was trying to defuse a time bomb." he laughs, holding a hand over his chest and you smile as not to ruin the mood, but your next question would do just that for you.

"but... be honest, this is more than a friendship, right? " you can see his smile falter ever so slightly and the silent pause is way too long for comfort. maybe you shouldn't have asked.

"...we'll see where it goes, yeah? " hongjoong smiles. you nod in understanding and he pets your head ever-so-softly as not to ruin your hair. "let's go, let's enjoy the party."

later that night, he takes you to your dorm in the same car he is being driven home in — he waves goodbye and you bow politely. "i'll text you!" hongjoong says, loud enough for you to hear. the car drives off in the distance and you smile and wave. "i'll reply!" you yell back.

your relationship lasted in the talking stage for a few months. rumors were nonexistent because you and hongjoong didn't have to express your attraction to each other through lives and posts and stories anymore, fans assumed it was because the staff felt the tension between you two died down and stopped using it for clout, little did they know that it all began hiding behind closed doors through hundreds of flirty texts and phone calls, cute selcas, handmade gifts, ordering food for each other, occasional video calls, and personal dates throughout your busy schedule. you were practically dating now but you and hongjoong never had a label.

"so, what are you guys? " wooyoung would ask.

hongjoong takes a moment to answer as he scrolls through his laptop. "...we're in a situationship."

"aren't you a little too old to be afraid of commitment?"

"ya, bastard—"

it wouldn't take too long for your "situationship" to spread among other idols and since everyone else was pretty closed off or "careful" it was the gossip of the industry.

about 6 months into whatever you and hongjoong had; you two were alone together in the living room of his dorm, everyone else was out and about, busy tending to their own lives leaving you two were finally alone together. one of the few moments you treasured. you laid comfortably into his chest as you both focused on wonka (timothee ver.) playing on the flat screen tv. hongjoong subconsciously pets your hair every now and then and you nuzzled deeper into his chest but there was a lingering thought in your head that you have been meaning to ask.

"hongjoong-oppa..." you mumble. hongjoong humms in response — you feel the vibration of his voice against your ear that rests just above his chest. you shuffled to look at him, he glances at you, seeing that you're a bit serious, he pauses the movie and he sits up a bit. "...is it still to early to ask what we are?"

hongjoong's expression doesn't change. it makes it hard for you to read him and how he feels about the question you have been too scared to ask these past few weeks. hongjoong doesn't respond however, just looking at you with clueless eyes. you sigh, expressing your disappointment and gently push him back into his position on the couch and laid back on top of him.

"nevermind." you murmur. you don't wanna force him into rushing the relationship or do anything he's uncomfortable with, but you don't want to wait too long either. shouldn't the two of you always be on the same page? you sigh again the more you thought about it, but your thoughts were interrupted as soon as hongjoong pushed you back up into your position.

"no," he simply said. "it's not too soon. in fact, it's a little late." he began and you started listening to him, pout evident on your face. hongjoong takes a deep breath. "the truth is, i have been thinking about this topic... me and some of the members would talk about it, and they kept telling me to "put a label on it," but my response was always that i was too scared." you looked at him, brows furrowed. "i really like you, y/n. it scares me." he whispers.

"...you don't... have to be scared." you say softly.

"i know, i know—" he rubs his forehead and he lets out a deep sigh. "but a label makes it so official, y'know...? "

"i know, oppa, but if our relationship, is not going anywhere then we might as well stop now." you can feel the anger in you bubbling up. "i don't date around, you know. you said yourself that you wanted to see where this would go, it's been months and after everything we've done together, i still can't believe we're not even called boyfriend and girlfriend," you pause to take a breath and calm yourself down. "i don't want to force you anything, but i just, i can't help but think that you don't want to continue this but you're too afraid to tell me. i don't want to wake up tomorrow and you change your mind and decide that you don't want me anymore, i need to propose an ultimatum." you pause, licking your lips nervously. "if you don't want to be my boyfriend now then maybe you shouldn't be my boyfriend at all."

you rambled on like you usually do, but hongjoong doesn't want to interrupt you, he never wanted to, he loves listening to you talk, but hearing the words that came out of your mouth upset him.

"...y/n, don't get me wrong," he began. "i want to be your boyfriend and i want you to be my girlfriend, i want a label, but you have to understand that it's hard for me..." he explained calmly, voice soft.

his words don't change how you feel, and you frown. "then why? what are you waiting for—? " your words are interrupted when you feel his lips smash into yours in a soft and wet kiss, it's almost aggressive but eventually, it melts into a tender, passionate connection before pulling away. you look at hongjoong, a little dazed but befuddled. that was the last thing you expected but somehow it calmed your nerves, unlike his words. you look away from him as a blush creeps into your face — that was your first ever kiss with him. "why'd you do that..? "

"because, y/n," hongjoong softly squishes your cheeks and guides you to look into his eyes. "you're beautiful. not just physically — your personality is beautiful, your passion is beautiful... you're a wonderful person and i am very lucky to have you." you're glad that you're looking at him because you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "...and i love how much you care and i- i know that i am ready to have a label, it's just that i told you... i'm scared... but, i guess, we don't always jump into things prepared..." he says and your expression softens. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him just a little bit closer. "y/n... can i be your boyfriend?" he asks softly.

"of course. what's wrong with you?" you playfully hit his chest and pull him into another short kiss. "i literally had a breakdown about the fact that you didn't wanna be my boyfriend and you're still asking me if i want you to be my boyfriend?" you laugh, hongjoong leans in, another small kiss.

"ya, don't tease me." he mumbles against your lips and you smile mischievously.

"or what~?" you ask, suggestively tilting your head as you look into his gorgeous eyes. hongjoong simply chuckles at your boldness and pecks your cheek, pulling you in for a proper hug and he whispers in your ear.

"don't push it," you were shocked at how deep his voice became. "i might not be able to contain myself..." he says casually and lays back down as if he didn't just leave you wet. "...right, let's continue the movie." he grabs the remote from the table and unpauses it. you just sit there, high and dry.

it's been a year since you and hongjoong have been together, fans are still unaware but catch on to random hints and slip-ups here and there but usually they are too far fetched to be considered a "soft launch" (like you accidentally calling hongjoong "oppa" on a livestream), and only ateez and DESTINY know that your relationship is official official (even your managers don't know, which made it super difficult to go on dates.)

their reactions include but are not limited to:

"finally. you two were beginning to be insufferable..." — DESTINY

"NO WAYYY!?!? THAT'S SO GREAT!!!" — Ateez

"oppaaa!" you yell loudly as you enter the dance studio hongjoong and a few of his members were practicing in. it was late at night and not many people were in the building at the time, you ran over to him and jumped in his arms.

"hi, baby! what are you doing here so late?" he kisses your cheek as he carries you by your thighs against him and you look into his eyes.

"why? can't i see my baby while he's working? " your arms are wrapped around his neck and you kiss his nose, he smiles and scrunches his nose, nuzzling it into yours like a rabbit.

"ahh, come on, you know you're my baby!" he says in a sweet aegyo voice and you giggle. he puts you down and seonghwa walks by.

"come on guys, seriously, i think i might barf..."

"i know, 'oppa, you're my baby, not just that — i want your babies~'" san decides to join in and mock you two with a skit and feigning a high pitched voice. pretending to be you and that seonghwa was hongjoong, playfully hitting his chest.

"ya, stop that, you weirdo—" seonghwa chuckles and hits san back.

you both ignore them, already used to their antics. you hold hongjoong's hands, looking into his eyes. "oppa, wanna go get a snack?"

"totally! let's go." he lets go of your left hand and holds on to your right as he leads you out the dancing studio and into the corridor. "so, where are we going?"

"what? why would i know? i thought you knew." you say, dumbfounded.

"why should i know? you're the one who suggested that we go out for a snack!" he exclaims.

"okay, okay! sooo... let's just go back to the dancing studio? " you turn around and hongjoong pauses, his smile remains the same.

"...actually, i have something else in mind." his voice is soft yet deep — you tilt your head in curiosity as he leads you to the end of the corridor and to the elevators, clicking the down button.

"...soo, are you going to tell me or..?"

"let's hang out in my studio."

this was undeniably the smartest idea Hongjoong had come up with since the beginning of your relationship (considering your surprise). it was incredibly rare for the two of you to get some precious alone time together, so you vowed to savor every single moment. laying on the couch in your favorite position (with you comfortably sprawled on top of him), a soothing silence enveloped the room, where the sound of your synchronized breathing patterns filled the air.

"'joong," you mumble, almost falling asleep, eyes closed. you shift on top of him and feel something rather peculiar down there. your eyes shot wide open. "'joong?!" you playfully hit his chest and sit up. "ya, i thought we were just chilling!"

"sorry! sorry- i couldn't help it, you were positioned so-" he pauses, staring at you as you urged him to continue with a smile and furrowed brows. "nevermind, nevermind, lay back down. it's chill, i promise."

"no," you suddenly say.

"no???" hongjoong questions. "wh- what do you mean?" he tries to laugh it off.

"i mean no, you said it was my fault. i have to help you," you innocently said and slid off of him, going on your knees on the floor.

"woah, woah, woah, wait- no, y/n, i can't let you do that," hongjoong attempts to pull you back up, but you refuse, your hands rest on his thighs, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, eagerly waiting for him to say yes. it's difficult for hongjoong to say no to that expression, he curses under his breath, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "ahh, shit." he grumbles. "have you ever even sucked a dick, y/n?" he looks down at you, and you shake your head.

"no," you innocently respond. "but i can learn with you right? it's difficult for me to have a sex life, y'know, with our schedules and all."

"yeah, yeah…" he looks away, hand covering the flush of his cheeks.

"…wait," you suddenly stood up. "is this your way of telling me you've been sucked off before?"

"was that your way of telling me you've never been fucked before?" hongjoong quipped.

"is that your other way of telling me you've fucked someone else before?!" you shot back.

he chuckles, "c'mon, baby, this is a good thing!" he runs his hands up and down your arms, attempting to soothe your annoyance, although he's not quite sure whether you're joking or serious. "i could teach you a thing or two, you know? how does that sound, sweetheart?" he stands up and spins around, gently guiding you to sit on the couch with him. despite your earlier irritation, you can't help but giggle as he showers your face with kisses, eventually kissing your lips and coaxing you to lay down on the couch as the make-out session intensifies. he climbs on top of you, grinding his hips into yours, you whine into his kiss. "you like that?" hongjoong mumbles in between kisses, abruptly pulling away to rid of his clothing, prompting you to get rid of yours.

you were practically drooling over his cock, already waiting for him to trace it to your entrance as he wrapped his hand tightly around himself, but he didn't. instead, he leaned back on the other end of the couch, head thrown back as he pumped himself hard. as much as you were disappointed, you gotta say, what a fucking sight. the kim hongjoong was masturbating in front of you, to you. eager, you leaned forward and wrapped your hands around his hand that pumped his cock, wanting to make his job easier, hongjoong stared at you blankly for a moment, considering what he should let you do, slowly, he guided your hands to wrap around his thick girth, urging you to pump up and down, occassionally squeezing at the tip, watching as his precum escaped.

"fuck," hongjoong cursed under his breath. "ah, shit, shit, wait," he pulled your hands off of him. concerned you might've hurt him or done a bad job, you pulled away and watched as he ran a hand through his hair. "sorry, i was just so close to cumming." he mumbled, covering his face with both hands in shame.

you tilt your head, confused. "that's a good thing, though."

"no, no, i wanna make you cum first, baby…" his hand met your cheek, stroking it gently. "you want my tongue or fingers?"

"mmh, cock…" you mumbled, laying on your back and spreading your legs, showing your pretty, tight hole on fully display for him to use. "i want your cock, hongjoong…"

"fuck," hongjoong cllimbed over you and eagerly placed his tip at your entrance. who the hell was he to say no to his innocent baby? he stuck two fingers inside you, collectine some of your arousal to wrap around his cock as lubrication, "fuck, will you be able to take me?" he slowly pushed his tip inside, already struggling as your poor pussy hole fluttered around him. "baby, i don't think it'll fit-" he almost laughed.

"it'll fit!" you whined, grabbing his bare forearms. "i've fingered myself thinking about this moment many times, baby, it'll fit, make it fit, please, i want this, rip me apart, baby-"

slowly, hongjoong bottomed out inside you. the stretch stinging you — he almost came at your mere words and he didn't want to hear another second of it, so he patiently settled inside you for a moment, letting you get used to the sensation before he couldn't take it anymore. he might accidently cum inside you with the way your tight virgin hole squeezed around his long, fat cock. his pace started off slow, he pulled out at his tip before harshly slamming back inside you. you whined. "j-joong," you blubbered. "not too hard."

"okay, baby, i'm sorry," hongjoong leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips before slamming back inside you, slowly and gently. he set the vanilla pace. fuck, fuck, fuck, he was fucking you so good. you hated the thought that he had done this with other girls, but then again, if he didn't then he probably wouldn't have had the skill to fuck you like this right now.

"aah- faster," you whined and hongjoong complied, wanting nothing but to please you, to make your first time memorable. he thrust harder into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot you never even knew existed. "aah! ahhh~!" you involuntarily whined, you had never felt so good in your life, you never felt this before, the desire to reach your climax and the desire to never want this feeling to end. "i-i'm cumming, 'joong-" you whined as he fucked harder into you, abrupt thrusts, his head rested in the crook of your neck, letting out soft groans, his warm breath against your skin.

"cum for me, baby, that's right," he groaned as you squeezed tightly around him, creaming around his cock. "fuck, fuck, that's right baby…" he whispered, reaching his climax as well and painting your insides whiter than they have ever been.

"mmng…" you moaned, you couldn't get a word out even if you wanted to. too fucked out to form a coherent thought, hongjoong stayed inside of you until he softened. he pulled out, placing a kiss on your lips and nose.

"fuck, you took me so well, baby, you know that?" he made his way to face your pussy and began pushing the cum back inside your small hole. "mmh, your first time, you had a creampie? what a dirty slut you are, hmm?" he whispered, kissing the inside of your thigh before grabbing your discarded panties from the floor and sliding it back up your legs. all you could let out was a helpless whine, hongjoong dressed himself up, climbing into the couch wiht you, cuddling your naked, fucked out form into his fully clothed one. "sleep, baby, i'll clean you up at my dorm tomorrow, m'kay?"

"y'sure..?"

"yes, baby, don't worry."

[ikeuluvr]

asking you to the school dance || enha hyung line

synopsis - how enhypen’s hyung line would ask you to the school dance

enhypen x reader / best friends to lovers / warnings - none! :) / wc ~200 per member

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　

heeseung is a very straightforward type of man. he’s not shy to share his feelings and wants with you because he knows how important communication is in your friendship. however, for the first time in his fourteen years of friendship with you, he’s struggling to tell you how he feels. “I’m in love with you,” he wants to scream until his lungs give out every time he sees you, but how do you naturally spring that onto a person? tired of not being able to call you his love, heeseung devises a plan to ask you to be his date to the school dance, and, in life. knowing that extravagance isn’t your cup of tea, he carries out his plan on your weekly gaming night so you won’t grow suspicious. he opens minecraft on his tv and tells you to look at the house he had built, only for there to be no house, but the words “can i be your date to the dance?” with a geeky smile he has you look farther to the right of the proposal where another one lay, “...and your boyfriend?”

big and extravagant public attention grabbers aren’t necessarily jay’s thing. he loves to make things intimate and special in his way without eyes always on him. when the winter formal was announced, jay knew he had to ask you to be his date before anyone else could. he invited you to his place for a cozy home-cooked meal made by jay himself. jay is usually a nonchalant type of guy, but he was nearly sweating through his shirt because of how nervous he was. with a little help from his mom, he got you to leave the kitchen while he plated both of your meals, carefully curating the word “FORMAL?” across the rim of your plate with sauce. jay placed the newly decorated plate in front of you after your return from a chat with his mom, a shaky gleam in his eyes waiting for your response. “jay, i’d love to be your date,” you smile at him, pulling him into a hug and leaving a kiss on his cheek that turns him redder than the tomatoes on your plate.

what really sparked your friendship with jake was your mutual love for music. as the two of you grew closer, you would send each other new music to listen to every day. whether it be a new artist, a song, an album, a playlist, or a performance, the two of you always find something that the other would enjoy. you could send a simple “i’m bored” text to jake and he’d have four performance videos, two albums, and three new artists for you to indulge in to cure your boredom. it was nothing out of the ordinary for you and jake to create playlists for each other either, so when he sends a new one titled “hey y/n…” it doesn’t even faze you until it's opened. “I was… Enchanted… To Meet You…” the songs read in order, “So… Let’s Be… The Life of the Party… at Prom?... Be My Date!” you cheesed ear to ear when you realized what jake had just asked you. “P.S. I Like You,” was the last song on the playlist, leaving a whole zoo in your stomach in excitement to tell jake you’ve always felt the same way.

sunghoon is the corniest dude you have ever met in your life. there’s never a day where he’s not spitting bad jokes your way or making the most sarcastic comments that make your eyes roll. he definitely thinks he’s the funniest person in the world. while deciphering through all of his options of how he wants to ask you to be his date to the school dance, he came to the consensus of something cute and simple: a sign. sunghoon loves those cheesy proposal signs that he sees on tiktok and pinterest that use witty play on words. he wanted to make his sign special and make it exclusive towards your friendship. the first time the two of you spent time alone together was after your friends ditched the two of you on a movie night, leaving you and sunghoon to go see the movie Minions. that night also happened to be the night that sunghoon realized he had feelings for you. sunghoon chose to make that night his inspiration for his sign, painting the phrase “y/n, you are one in a minion. be my date?” onto his posterboard. your heart melted at the sight of your best friend standing outside your front door, sign in hand… dressed as a minion. naturally, sunghoon had to go all out. overalls, yellow face paint, goggles, and all. to him, it was worth it to see you smile and laugh the way you did.

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[sunshine-daisies-library]

staged romance | luke hemmings x actress!reader

summary: when you get the role of a lifetime, luke struggles to support you when he finds out who your scripted love interest is 

word count: 10.8k

warnings: misogyny, arguments, drinking, jealousy, swearing, mentions of cheating, angst

author’s note: the title of the movie/book and the show were smth i made up on the fly so it’s not to be affiliated w other books/movies that are called that lol, it’s all a coincidence. this is also not proofread!

second author's note: the last bit was rushed in the end but let me be clear! my intent was to portray a loving realistic relationship with healthy communication of feelings and borders. of course, things like that are tough to convey in a one-shot alone. talks of jealousy and cheating is heavily mentioned throughout the text, but it is not my intent to make luke appear toxic or y/n seem unfaithful. the two are in a healthy relationship that gets plagued by jealousy, insecurities, and stupid social media! i, in no way, shape, or form, condone toxic relationships and try my best to let that show in my writing. please consult a trusted loved one if you are experiencing a toxic relationship. i love yall and hope the best!

happy reading lovelies <3

“I’m sure you boys are incredibly busy now more than ever,” the interviewer said, referring to the band’s many new surprises in store. “I can’t help but wonder what you guys are most excited about.”

Luke was nodding along to the woman, barely paying attention and silently hoping for the interview to end faster. Ashton had always teased Luke for having a blank stare during these interviews and the fans have caught on, too, but he couldn’t help being bored talking about the same things over and over again. 

“So busy,” Michael agreed, taking the reins on the question. “We’ve got new music coming out, we’ve been working nonstop to release them and film music videos, too. Not to mention our tour coming up in a couple of months. But to speak for the boys, I think we’re all pretty excited to have our music featured in a movie.” 

Ashton was quick to chime in. “Yeah, we’ve worked real hard on this one, we were in the studio for hours trying to perfect it and we hope we did the movie justice.” 

The interviewer shifted through her binder of notes and questions. “It’s safe to say everyone is stoked to hear it in theaters,” she concluded. “But the question that’s been on everyone’s minds is, Luke, how do you feel about writing a song for a movie your girlfriend is the face of? Could you walk us through that process?” 

Calum quietly nudged Luke in the side, bringing his attention to the woman sitting before them. “Oh yeah,” Luke coughed, readjusting his posture in his chair. “I’m super excited to help bring this story to life, it’s been a real journey to go through the entire process of it all. I’m especially proud of y/n for getting the lead role, it’s been a dream of hers to get this far and I’m so lucky to have her in my life and watch her grow as an actress.” 

“Aw,” Ashton leaned into his mic, making the boys laugh. “So cute.” 

“Very cute,” Luke retorted with a small smile. “She’s great and definitely deserves this role; she’s worked so hard on it and it really shows on the screen. As for the music, I agree with Ash when he said we worked our asses off on it. y/n definitely put in a lot of input on this one, not actually, but she was a great inspiration throughout the writing and producing process.”

Michael grinned at his friend, picking up his mic. “He’s downplaying it,” he quipped. “When the producer reached out to us to write something up for the movie, Luke was really into it. I mean reading through the tidbit that the producer sent us, rereading the book the movie was based on, all of it. Out of the four of us, Luke was really the one who took the wheel on this project and y/n was a big part of the reason why.” 

Luke turned red at Michael’s explanation, but it was true. He was ecstatic to hear they wanted 5 Seconds of Summer to add to their soundtrack, and he was even more excited to hear it was for the very movie you just received the lead role for. You both found out the news on the same day and were over the moon excited. 

“I got the part!” you yelled, running down the hall to Luke’s office with Petunia following close behind you. “Babe! I got the part-”

Luke swung the door open, a look of disbelief on his face. “They want us to write a song for the movie,” he announced. 

Your eyes were wide at his news. In an instant, you jumped into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around as you both let out shouts of joy. Luke peppered kisses down your face and neck, anywhere he could reach, in pride. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he told you earnestly. “I’m so so proud of you. You earned this!” 

“We earned this,” you corrected him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling into a kiss.

“Guilty,” Luke sheepishly admitted to the interviewer. “I love my girl, what can I say?”

The woman let out a chuckle before getting back into the interview. “All the fans are happy to hear that,” she told him. “Last question and it’s for Luke again;  so Michael said that you read the book for “What Lies Between Us,” and so you probably know that there are a couple explicit scenes in there, particularly between the lead and her love interest, played by Harry Styles. We all are very aware of your past with One Direction, having toured with them and gaining your fame through the tours. How do you feel about your girlfriend and friend coming together for these intimate scenes?” 

The boys “oohed” immaturely as Luke blushed, shaking his head. You had already told him there would be scenes like that in the movie, not because he was jealous or would prevent you from doing them, but just to be open with him. After a discussion, the both of you were on the same page about the scenes, agreeing that it’s just work and holds no value offset. 

“Yeah, n/n told me about them,” Luke chuckled, taking a sip of water. “And I don’t have anything to say about them. y/n is a great actress and so is Harry. They’re respectable workers and take their job seriously. I trust them both, not that that matters.” 

“Well said,” the interviewer applauded. “So even beyond the explicit scenes, do you mind that they will be portraying lovers throughout the film?” 

Luke set his water on the ground. “I mean, who doesn’t love Harry Styles, he’s handsome,” he joked playfully. Luke’s crystal blue eyes stared deeply into the camera. “No, I don’t mind at all. It’s all for the movie. Styles may have my girl in the morning and afternoons, but at night she’s mine to hold to sleep.” 

–

Luke entered the bedroom, sighing loudly as he hunched over to throw off his shirt. You had been laying there waiting for his arrival home, reading over your agenda and going over your lines in your pajamas under the covers. Petunia was sleeping soundly at the foot of your bed, unbothered by his usual antics. 

“You’re home late,” you mused, setting your pen down. “Everything okay, bub?” 

Luke moaned and groaned while kicking off his dress pants and replacing them with his more comfortable pair of sweatpants, eventually falling face down onto the bed. You giggled at his dramatics, your hand going to play through his blond curls. He relaxed at your touch as he reached for your hand and kissed it softly. 

“Do you think Harry is more handsome than me?” he asked, eyes peering up at yours. 

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “Do you want the answer of a 1D fan since high school or the answer of your loving girlfriend?” you joked. You and Luke both knew how deep your love for One Direction was as a teenager. He loved to tease you about your posters and t-shirts, not to mention the Harry Styles cardboard cutout you received as a birthday present one year.

Luke let out another grumble as he rolled onto his back. You scooted forward to rest his head on your lap. “Both,” he decided. 

You hummed, resuming your twirling of Luke’s hair. “Well as your girlfriend,” you began. “I think you are the most handsome man to ever walk this planet.” 

“And the 1D fan?” he begrudgingly asked.

You took your finger and softly traced along the bridge of his nose, trailing down to his jawline. “I think Harry Styles is very very handsome,” you answered. Watching Luke scrunch his nose in childish jealousy, you leaned in closer. “But I think the lead vocalist of the band that opened for One Direction was way better looking, sweeter, and all around so much better,” you whispered as though you were letting him in on a secret. 

Luke pushed you away, sighing loudly once again as you threw your head back in laughter. “That’s the girlfriend speaking!” he whined. 

“We’re one and the same, Lu,” you scolded playfully, reaching for your boyfriend. “Just because my seventeen year old self was too obsessed with Harry doesn’t mean I don’t love you and find you all the more attractive now.” 

Luke let out an unconvincing huff, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What’s gotten into you, bub?” you asked, concern taking over your curiosity. 

“The interview was all about you and the movie today,” he responded, tucking himself into bed and taking his spot beside you, nestled warmly in your chest. 

You snorted, resting your hand back into his hair. Not only were his curls extremely soft at the touch and soothing to play with, you knew -while he would never admit it aloud- Luke loved when you played with his hair. “Didn’t realize I was a tough topic to talk about,” you jested. 

Luke rolled over so he was practically laying half of his body on yours. “Nooo,” he said, voice muffled by your shirt. “You know I love to talk about you, baby. It’s just I got a question about you and Harry being love interests.” 

You stiffened, clearly caught off guard. “Oh,” you could only muster out. 

The musician nodded, burying himself into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. “People can be so annoying sometimes,” he huffed in frustration. “Why would I care if my girlfriend is playing Harry Styles’ love interest? It’s not like it changes anything between us or between me and Harry.”

“It’s because people are misogynistic and gross,” you explained with an equally upset frown. “Just because I’m a woman in the film industry, they think I’m going to fling myself at any man I act with. It was the same for my last movie. I don’t understand why people are so quick to judge and point fingers.” 

Luke lifted his chin and cupped your cheek affectionately. “I’m so sorry this is what you have to deal with everyday,” he apologized. “It’s bullshit, and I’ve made it crystal clear that you should be respected and valued for your work, not who you kiss or whatever on the screens.” 

“You can always shut down the questions if they ask you,” you reminded him. “You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable.”

Luke bit his lip in thought, a habit you found adorable and mesmerizing to watch. “But I’d rather answer these questions and stop the narrative about actresses and showmances. It’s not fair for you guys to be scrutinized about your love lives and image while male actors never get those kinds of questions.” 

Your lips trembled in awe of Luke’s small rant. You had never felt so loved and appreciated by the man like you did right now. He was ever a gentleman in a world of childish boys. “You know I love you, right?” you asked him with a tearful smile. 

Luke raised his thumb to the corner of your eyes to wipe away a stray tear. “It’s the bare minimum to support my girl,” he told you. “I love you, too, baby.”

Settling back down under the covers with your lover, you rested your head on top of his. “You don’t have to worry about me and Harry,” you reassured him. “It’s strictly business between us, and he’s aware of that.” 

“I’m not worried,” Luke said, his eyes fluttering closed. “Get some sleep, love. You got an early morning ahead of you.” 

–

The next morning, you woke up refreshed with your boyfriend still fast asleep beside you. You smiled to yourself, taking a mental image of the singer nestled beside you. His arm was snug around your waist and his nose was buried in your chest, a normal routine you’ve found the both of you falling into when he was home from tours. What you hated the most was ending said routine when you had to wake up before him for filming. 

You slowly removed his arm and slid out from under the sheets, trying to not wake him. Of course, ever the heavy sleeper, Luke remained asleep, taking one of your pillows as an adequate replacement for you. You quietly began your morning routine of brewing coffee for yourself, brushing your teeth, and styling your hair. Petunia followed behind you, being the momma’s girl she was. You let her go outside as you got started on preparing breakfast. Normally, you’d make breakfast and coffee for two but you were called for an earlier shoot, barely before sunrise, so Luke would no doubt be asleep for a while.

Finished with breakfast and giving Petunia her required pets and kisses, you went back upstairs to get dressed for the day. You thought you had been relatively quiet, but nonetheless the singer woke up to you, half dressed, on the other side of the room.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” his raspy voice praised.

You turned your head around as you slipped on a pair of pants, rolling your eyes at him. “You should be asleep,” you scolded lightly. 

“And you should still be in bed with me,” he reprimanded in the same tone. Luke lazily reached across the bed for you, only short by a few inches. 

“I have to be in for an early shoot,” you reminded him. “You know I’d be asleep right beside you if I had the choice.” 

Luke groaned, making you laugh as you ruffled his hair similar to how you’d pet Petunia. “Why can’t you call out?” he whined like a toddler. 

You kissed his forehead and set for the door. “If I did, I’d be out of a job,” you told him. “Then who would Harry kiss on camera?”

“Not funny!” Luke yelled out as you grabbed the rest of your things and left your home. 

“Love you!” you shouted back, closing the door behind you. 

Luke rolled over back to his side, grabbing his phone and absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. He figured that since he was already awake, he might as well look through his notifications before formally getting up. 

On Twitter, he realized in the bottom of his screen that he received thousands of tagged mentions. Curious, he clicked on the icon to see multiple photos of you and Harry outside the studio. You two were snuggled under a blanket, far too close for his liking. The smile on your face was one Luke was familiar with because it was the look you always gave him. Jealousy burned in his chest before he realized it. 

outofstyles: harry styles and y/n l/n is a pair we didn’t ask for but ended up needing SEVERELY

stylesupdatesdaily: styles-l/n was NOT on my bingo card this year but i am here for it!!! #styles-l/n #wlbumovie

lukehemmingslipring: why are people shipping harry and y/n when she’s been dating luke since way before the SGFG era??? and why am i fucking with it???

y/nismother: @lukehemmingslipring don’t tell me they broke up because if they did love isn’t real :(

y/nismother: @youngblood__irwin SEND THE LINK PLEASE!!!!!

Luke frowned at the back and forth in the comments, as well as additional tweets he was tagged in regarding the Hemmings vs. Styles drama, a drama he didn’t even knew had begun. Frustration and envy brewed inside him despite his strong attempts to fight the urge. He had promised you he wouldn’t get jealous. Hell, he didn’t expect himself to feel this way. He knew you, of course. And he knew Harry very well. In his right mind, he knew there was nothing behind the photos nor your staged romance. But the damn photos and tweets and people raising the question of the stability of his relationship…anger was clouding his mind and he could barely think straight. 

–

By the time you got to set, you were rushed into hair and makeup. You were used to the fast paced nature of the studio and settled into your routine with ease. As your hair designers twisted and pulled your hair back to prep for your wig, you saw a familiar figure catch your eye. 

“Good morning, darlin’,” Harry greeted with a chaste kiss on your cheek. You snorted at his thick Southern accent he had been practicing all year long. While he had improved significantly, you found that his drastic change from a charming British lad to a cheeky Southern man was still too bizarre to get accustomed to.

“Hello, honey,” you said back in a Chicago accent, remembering to stay still for the dressers to apply your wig. The accent you portrayed was one that your character had, a sharp-tongued divorcee. “Didn’t expect you to come in on time.”

“Love, I’m always on time,” he chuckled, sitting beside you to allow the artists to work their magic. “You’re just cooped up in your trailer doing God knows what with that husband of yours.” 

You laughed, eyes shut as your dear friend and makeup artist Alisha applied eyeshadow. “Not my husband,” you corrected him. 

“Well you’ve been dating him long enough for him to might as well be,” he joked. “You seriously mean to tell me Hemmings hasn’t put a ring on your finger?” You nodded as much as you could, considering Alisha was very adamant on perfecting your concealer under your eyes. “Well, he’s got to get a move on before I make a move myself.”

The two of you laughed, knowing the banter was light and all jokes. “Careful now, sweetheart,” you said, reverting back to your Chicago accent. “Mr. Hemmings might get a little jealous.” 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he drawled, back in his Southern accent. “But you make such a pretty little wife on screen, how can I resist?” 

“You tease!” you exclaimed, clutching your heart and remaining in character. “Mr. McClantire, you know I’m a faithful woman.” 

Finished with his makeup, Harry stood up and readjusted his suit jacket. “Mrs. Abernathy, a lady like you should be cherished,” he explained, taking your hand and brushing his lips against his lightly. “I’ll meet you on set.” 

You chuckled, taking your hand back to fix your hat your stylist had expertly pinned to your head. “I’ll see you then, Mr. McClantire.” 

Leaving you be, Harry left the dressing room and gently closed the door. Alisha clicked her tongue at the British singer turned actor, shaking her head. “Always a tease, isn’t he,” she hummed, applying hair spray liberally. “He better watch himself or the media will end up in a frenzy with his flirtatious attitude.” 

“He’s a sweetheart, I know he means no harm,” you defended him, sipping your tea serenely. “I do believe he’s been seeing someone though so I know there’s no weight to his words. But I do admit his habits are going to make Twitter go crazy. Luke has already gotten wind of some of the news and gossip.” 

Alisha rested her hand on her hip, lips pursed in thought. “Only a matter of time before he gets jealous,” she mused playfully. 

“He won’t,” you said back, not expecting Alisha’s warning.

“Oh honey,” she shook her head. “You know men, they’ll get jealous.” 

–

Luke looked at the TV through the mirror reflection in his dressing room as he adjusted his dress shirt’s sleeves. Nearly a while had passed since the finish of filming and it was a matter of days until the movie’s premiere. Your schedule consisted of plenty of interviews and promo events which resulted in more drama tabloids being released about you and Harry. A scowl rested on his

and Harry on the screen talking with the host of the show. You were animatedly telling a story while Harry’s arm rested behind you. Albeit casual, Luke couldn’t help but glare at the gesture. 

“If looks could kill, he’d be dead,” Ashton mused from behind the blond singer. 

Luke brushed off his comment, turning away from the vanity. “I just wish he’d keep his bloody hands off her,” he muttered enviously. 

Calum was distractedly scrolling through his phone on the couch, no doubt bored, waiting for their cue to get on stage. “And sit fifty miles away from her?” he suggested plainly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Mate, they’re friends, of course they’re going to sit beside each other.” 

“But with his arm around her?” Luke pressed impatiently, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. You reminded him constantly before arriving at the studio to not touch his hair. You’d worked so hard to style and gel it while he focused on his makeup. The blond settled for crossing his arms on his chest and tapping his foot. 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed with Luke. “He should cut it off,” he joked, dodging Luke’s swat of his hand. 

Ashton patted Luke’s shoulder, setting him down on the couch. “Calm down, Luke,” he instructed. “Take some deep breaths or else you’ll pop a vein. I understand how annoying publicists have been with Harry and n/n, but you shouldn’t let them get to you.” 

“How can I when they talk about my girl?” Luke seethed, his composure rigid. “They talk about her like she’s a fame chaser, going after Harry for publicity even though she’s been practically an A-lister since she was a kid.” Luke shuffled in his seat, frown permanently on his face. 

“Then I hardly see how Harry’s got anything to do with it,” Calum raised an eyebrow. 

Luke stood up from the couch as quickly as he had sat down. “Because he’s–he’s–” Luke stumbled over his words. Finding no reasonable excuse, he angrily kicked his foot against the table only to yelp in pain, clutching his foot and jumping up and down. “That fucking pretty boy.” 

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t really give into those gossip tablets, can you?” he genuinely asked. 

Luke paused, long enough for the boys to shake their heads in disappointment. “It’s the hair!” he lamely blamed, throwing his hands in the air. 

The boys’ conversation was interrupted by a set assistant, knocking on the door while opening it. “Five minutes till your performance,” the boy squeaked. 

Ashton was the one to speak up for the group. “Thanks, Roberto,” he said gratefully. The moment the boy left, Ashton turned to the boys. “We’re going to discuss this more later after the show. Luke, please be civil with Harry.” 

“Says the one who fucked his sis-”

“None of that now,” Ashton cut Michael off, not wanting to rehash his past. “Now let’s get on stage before they have our heads.” 

The boys made their way down to the set, hiding discreetly behind the curtains. A frenzy of assistants scurried by, ensuring that the boys had their instruments and everything was perfect before they got on stage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Five Seconds of Summer!” 

The stage manager nodded at the cue, ushering the boys through the entrance. Luke was the first to walk through, waving at the audience and smiling at fans screaming in the back. They got settled on the side stage, instruments in tow as they turned to the host of the night. 

“Thank you for having us, Jimmy,” Luke spoke into the mic, trying not to wince at the squealing girls in the crowd. His eyes were trained on you, who had stood up and clapped for the band as they came in. You were now seated, eyes sparkling in excitement. 

Jimmy Fallon leaned back in his chair. “We’re glad to have you, Luke,” he responded. “Hope the dressing room wasn’t too snug for your guys?”

“Oh no Jimmy, we quite enjoyed it,” Ashton answered from behind his kit. “Reminds me of the good old days when we’d share Luke’s bedroom to change before filming our performances on YouTube.” 

The crowd laughed at Ashton’s quip, Jimmy especially as he shook his head in laughter. “Good to hear,” he said. “And what do you guys have for us today?” 

Michael was next to take the lead. “Well initially we thought we were going to perform our song for What Lies Between Us,” he began, followed by more applause and cheering. “But we thought it would be better to leave that for the premiere.” 

“Correction: our publicist thought it would be better,” Calum joked, however there was no fabrication behind it; their publicist did think it would be best.

“So we decided to play a song from our album that’s yet to come out,” Michael finished. “Jimmy, this is “Bad Omens.”” 

The crowd loved the song as much as you did, finding that song to be one of your favorites of the album. Upon finishing the song, the boys set down their instruments for the backstage staff to collect and made their way to the couches. 

You and Harry stood up to greet each of them, Harry with a handshake and you with a kiss on the cheek. Luke took your hand, kissing you brightly on the lips before sitting down beside you. Jimmy made a cheeky face, teasingly looking at you and your boyfriend. The crowd chuckled at his behavior and you did the same while Luke kept his hand possessively on your knee.

“Well this is a new development,” Jimmy mused, folding his hands on top of his desk. 

You waved off his comment with an airy giggle. “Oh this?” you asked, gesturing between you and Luke. “Old as time.” 

“We’ve actually been together for what, a little over ten years now?” Luke explained, glancing over at you with a proud smile. He relished the feeling of the crowd clapping and whooping at your relationship. 

Jimmy whistled at Luke’s comment. “And no ring on the finger?” he pressed. “I mean, you’ve had to have thought about it before?” 

You nodded reassuringly. “Oh a million times,” you responded. “But God knows that when you deal with one of these boys, you have to deal with all of them.” You jabbed your thumb at the three boys to the left of you, shoving their lanky arms against each other as they tried to get comfortable on their seats. Luke cleared his throat to get their attention, the boys flushed in the face as they quit their quarreling. “I’ve known them since they went on tour with One Direction and we finally ended up dating afterwards. But now, I’m ready to get married and settle down. I’m just waiting on Hemmings, here.” 

Luke chuckled at your last comment, seemingly taking them lightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction, but decided not to act upon it. “She’s very much so anticipating that question, Jimmy,” he confessed. “It’s only a matter of time, but I’m in no hurry. This one, however…” he trailed off, grinning at you.

“A girl has dreams,” you defended yourself. 

Jimmy snapped his fingers at your words, a thought coming back to him. “Yes, you certainly do!” he exclaimed, reaching under his desk for a frame as he changed the subject. Confusion and hurt brewed inside you, but you quickly pushed those feelings down. “y/n, you’re not a stranger to dreams, right?”

“Oh, definitely not,” you agreed with a dubious expression on your face. 

“So I hope you don’t mind when I show a little memento from the past your mother sent over.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, turning to hide your face in Luke’s shoulder. “What did she send over now? I told you to lose her number, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy raised his hands up in surrender. “She makes a great lunch partner,” he defended himself. “y/m/n, if you’re watching tonight, we’re still on for Tuesday?” You rolled your eyes as Harry threw his head back in laughter. “Joking, joking, not really, but-” 

“Jimmy,” you said in a warning tone. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “Anyways, your mother found a letter you wrote back when you were in middle school to the tooth fairy-”

Michael choked on his own saliva, jerking forward. “n/n, you still believed in the tooth fairy when you were in middle school-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Clifford,” you clipped back through your teeth as you smiled rigidly. You still had one last baby tooth in at the time, you still had your hopes out for the mythical creature.

Jimmy raised his hand to cut off the side chatter as he read from the framed letter. “And you, at age thirteen, had one dream that you wished the tooth fairy would grant you.” 

“Dear Tooth Fairy,” he read aloud as you crumbled in embarrassment. “I have finally lost my last tooth, so I guess this will be the last letter I can send you.”

“Aww,” the boys gushed in unison, causing you to shoot them an icy glare. 

“To end this amazing tooth filled saga, I have one last wish. You see, it’s been my dream to meet One Direction.” 

“Jimmy!” you screamed, covering your face in humiliation as the memories started to flood in. Luke covered you in his arms as you folded over yourself, laughing along but equally curious about what was in the letter.

Jimmy, nonetheless, continued reading. “And I have a favorite singer in the band. If you could pull some strings and make Harry Styles my boyfriend, I swear to you I’ll write a letter to you everyday -even though I have no more teeth to give you- and will solemnly swear to be your best friend forever. Let him be my boyfriend, pleaseeeeee.” The audience let out a boisterous laughter as Jimmy emphasized your silly, childish writing. “Love, y/n.” 

More clapping filled your ears as you raised your head to face Jimmy. In the corner of your eye, you saw Harry resting casually beside you, facing you as he leaned against the couch. 

“I’m flattered,” Harry told you, an amused smile resting on his lips.

You pressed your lips in a straight line. “Thanks, Har,” you deadpanned. 

He patted your shoulder in a friendly manner. “No, it’s real sweet,” he reassured you. “Truly, cute, even.” 

“That’s not all we have,” Jimmy spoke up as he put away your framed letter. He waved off your groans and complaints. “It’s not bad, not bad. I’m sure you all remember the Golden Globes back in 2012 when y/n made her first appearance in the hit TV show, The Last Elites of Cardenia.” 

The crowd cheered as a photo of you as a child appeared on the screen. It was a shot of you in the show, dressed up in your furs and pearls as per your character, Cecilia. The next photo was of you on the red carpet with your show family. Your braces were highly visible in your smile, making you wince at the rough photo. 

“I loved that show,” Ashton sighed, full of nostalgia. “Cal, Michael, and I would binge that show every night after concerts.” 

“You didn’t watch it, Luke?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Luke sheepishly shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he answered honestly. 

“I’m offended, babe,” you teased, your hand over your heart in mock offense.

Michael snorted. “It’s not like he didn’t like the show,” he told you. “He just could barely follow the storyline whenever you popped up on screen.” 

The boys gave Luke playful punches as he blushed. “I-I couldn’t help it!” he exclaimed. “You were just so cute on screen, you were my celebrity crush for the longest time. I mean you were a right entitled bitch in the show but meeting you in real life, I just was-“

“So down bad,” Ashton finished for him. Luke was about to correct him but you were quick to cut him off. 

“Baby,” you cooed, pinching his cheek. 

Jimmy laughed along with the conversation, pointing towards the screen as he spoke. “Speaking of celebrity crushes,” he continued. “We have this old footage of you on the red carpet answering some questions.” 

The day was bright as you appeared on the screen. A youthful innocence covered your entire self, from the way you gathered yourself to your voice. A woman was behind the camera, only her hand holding the microphone could be seen.

“And who might you be?” the woman asked you. 

You smiled brightly. “I’m y/n!” you chirped. “y/n l/n but most people know me as Cecilia from The Last Elites of Cardenia.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m Mei,” the woman greeted, shaking your hand. “This is your first time here at the Golden Globes, how are you feeling?” 

“Oh, I’m sooo excited, Mei,” you answered honestly and giddily. You could hardly stand still. “My mom picked my outfit today so I’m feeling very confident and pretty!”

“And who do you want to see most today?” 

You cocked your head in thought. “Harry Styles!” you exclaimed. “I heard One Direction’s going to be at the after party, so I really hope to see him. He’s my biggest celebrity crush,” you gushed unabashedly.

The clip ended and everyone turned to you, where you were frozen and wide-eyed.

“Where the hell do you find this stuff, Jimmy,” you sighed, face palming annoyedly. 

“Oh, the vault, you know,” Jimmy responded cheekily. “But that leaves us wondering how you feel now, starring alongside your celebrity crush in the film “What Lies Between Us?”” 

You tapped your chin. Harry glanced over at you. “Be honest, darling,” he reminded you in a sing-songy voice. 

“Well I can definitely say that my teenage self is absolutely losing her mind,” you answered. “It’s something out of a dream, if you think about it. I mean, I never knew I’d come far enough to star in a highly anticipated movie, nevertheless star alongside Harry. It’s a blessing, surely, but now, I think that fangirl side of me has been laid to rest.” 

Jimmy turned to your boyfriend. “And what do you think, Luke?” 

The musician gave the host a close lipped smile. “Whatever makes n/n happy,” he settled brusquely.

Jimmy, satisfied with his response, began asking questions for the other boys about touring and their music. You whipped your head around and raised an eyebrow at Luke for his short response, but Luke didn’t make eye contact with you. Concerned, you reached for his hand on his knee but he pulled back, folding his hands together. Never had you felt more confused and isolated than you did at that moment. You used to be able to read his mind, but now it felt like he’d closed his mind in walls you couldn’t seem to get past. 

–

“What was that about?” you demanded, following closely behind Luke as you walked into your shared home. 

After that awkward end to the show with Jimmy Fallon, you, Harry, and the boys went out to dinner. You thought that moment with Luke was just a one-off thing, but he remained in his rigid composure for the rest of the night. The boys would talk boisterously throughout the dinner, sharing stories of the past tours with One Direction and catching up on life afterwards. But Luke was the only one who remained silent, opting to focus on his glass of red wine he never seemed to finish. You made attempts to speak to Luke, nudging him or trying to meet his eyes from across the table but he refused to look up the entire time. Frustrated, you let it be but it was clear you were upset to the rest of the table. Harry had even pulled you aside after you all paid for your meals, asking if things were alright and if he had overstepped at all. You reassured him he did nothing wrong, it was Luke who was being childish at the moment.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he brushed you off, heading upstairs to your bedroom. He removed his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong or pissed you off. 

You entered the bedroom, heels kicked off as you crossed your arms on your chest. “Let me refresh your mind,” you spat. “You’ve been nothing but rotten towards Harry and I tonight. What’s gotten into you? I thought you said you wouldn’t get jealous-”

“And I’m not,” Luke fought back. “God, you can be so conceited sometimes, y/n.” 

“So that’s what it is?” you snapped back. “I’m just being self-centered and your head isn’t stuck up your ass?” 

Luke aggressively pulled his sleeves up, leaving half of his buttons undone while placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, it would appear so,” he answered shortly. “You’re overthinking what’s going on, y/n, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do not gaslight me, Luke Hemmings,” you ordered, walking up to him to stand chest to chest. “I know your mother taught you enough for you to know that is not the way to go when arguing with me.” Luke huffed, giving in on that one statement because you were right; he did know better.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I am upset. And I have every reason to. I don’t like how close you and Harry have gotten, okay?”

Your jaw dropped in utter shock. “You mean my coworker?” you clarified sarcastically. “I’d hope I’d be close with him considering we’re playing lovers in the damn movie-” 

“There you go again!” Luke’s voice boomed across the room, throwing his hands in the air. “You and Harry being lovers. Sometimes I’m led to believe it’s more than for the movie with the photos I’ve seen and the mere way you act with him.” 

“Luke, I have no idea what to tell you,” you fumed. “We are acting. I have no romantic feelings for him and he has none for me. He’s seeing someone, for crying out loud! I thought you had enough trust in me to know nothing is going on between me and him.” 

“I do trust you,” he argued. “But you couldn’t possibly look me dead in the eye and tell me you didn’t have romantic feelings at all during filming. You have been crushing on him for far too long for that to just go away.” 

You hesitated, your face burning with frustration and humiliation. You hated to admit there was some truth to his statement. “I-I,” you stumbled over your words.

Luke’s nostrils flared as he glared at you, proving his point exactly. You threw your hands in the air. “He was a celebrity crush from when I was a teenager, Luke!” you shouted exasperatedly. “I had a little crush, that was it! And maybe it resurfaced a little at the beginning but I swear to you I don’t have those feelings anymore. It was a childish crush, Luke, you’ve got to believe me when I say that. I love you.” 

Tears lined both of your eyes as you went to reach for his hand. Your thumb grazed his ring, the one you bought for him for your first anniversary. “I really don’t know,” Luke whispered, slowly pulling his hand away.

Your heart shattered at his words, falling to the ground you stood on. You had dedicated ten years of your life to this man, ten of the best years of your life to him. You grew up with him, made the best and worst mistakes of your lives, and survived all of that together. He was your person, your lover, your one being that you’d lay down your life for. Yet, the moment your relationship is tested, he falters. But you couldn’t blame him. One little crush resurfacing, and that managed to wipe out everything you ever created for yourself over the past decade.

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to fall over and sob on the ground. Your hands opened and closed into fists as you took a step back. “Fine,” you said, shaky and uncertain. Luke almost caved at your voice, the mere way you spoke. You had always carried yourself with dignity and confidence. He was the one who stripped you of that, and you were just a shell of who you once were. 

“I think I’m going to spend the night at Crys’s,” you told him, walking over to your closet and pulling out a bag. “It’s clear we both need space and time apart.” 

Luke shook his head, taking your wrist. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Your premiere is in two days, you’re going to be worn out and exhausted if you don’t sleep right. I’ll head over to Cal’s and you can stay here.” 

Taking back your wrist, you continued to pack your things. “It’s your house, Luke,” you reminded him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay spending the night with Crys and Michael.” 

“Don’t bother them,” Luke insisted. “They’ve been busy building the nursery for when they plan on trying for a baby and-” 

You winced at his words. He didn’t understand how much he hurt you with them, where he was only looking out for their sake and not yours. Realizing the deeper meaning behind his words, Luke tried to correct himself when you just raised your hand to stop him. He had said enough for the night, and so had you. 

“I’ll find a hotel,” you finally decided. Luke was silent, heart aching and yearning for you, but too frozen to speak up and do anything about it. Finished packing, you zipped up your bag and turned back to him. “Goodnight, Lukey,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the house entirely. 

Driving down the streets of L.A. you managed to find a small hotel on the side of the road that looked safe enough to spend the night. Carrying your bag, you pathetically entered the hotel in your dress from the late night show and a pair of flat shoes you slipped on before leaving. Your hair was no doubt a mess, no longer styled to perfection as Alisha once had it. Your mascara was probably running down your face, too. God, you looked like a mess in front of this poor worker. 

The boy lifted his eyes to meet yours, slowly recognizing who you were but deciding to not speak on it. You looked like you had gone through enough tonight. “Room for one?” he asked you. You wordlessly nodded, rummaging through your bag to find your wallet for ID and your card. Handing them to the worker, you kept your gaze on your bag. In the process, you found your phone and checked your notifications. 

Lukey &lt;;3: please let me know when you arrive safely

You: im here now

Lukey &lt;;3: okay, love. use the card i gave you to pay for your room

You: no, it’s fine.

You left the conversation at that, not caring if it were dry. You were exhausted and didn’t want to fight with him anymore. You had no more fight in you to give him. 

The boy behind the desk handed you back your things along with your key card for the night. “Let me know if you need anything at all to improve your stay,” he told you politely. 

You fought the urge to scoff at the boy. Like you could do anything to improve your stay, tonight was hell as it is. But you reminded yourself it wasn’t his fault you were arguing with the love of your life; it was yours. Thanking him quietly, you made your way to your room and tossed your bag on the foot of your bed, tucking yourself in next, still in your evening wear. You didn’t care if you’d ruin your dress or damage your face from leaving your makeup on overnight. It was too much for you to deal with right now. 

Lukey &lt;;3: goodnight, y/n

read 2:43 am

–

The next two days were utter torture for Luke. He kept contact with you through it all, ensuring that you had eaten, slept, etc. but that was all you’d tell him. Luke couldn’t decide whether or not he was grateful for your shortness with your words, if it would make him cave and go to you and forget everything or make him more upset. He was grateful he had your location still on his phone, and you had his. At least he could check on you and make sure you were alright and not in any trouble. 

Luke was also guilty of checking if you had gone to Harry’s house. Guilt and upset rumbled in his stomach, as he felt like he crossed a boundary and invaded your privacy. But how could he not be curious about your whereabouts when you had confessed to him you still had some feelings toward Harry? It didn’t matter that you said those feelings came and went. What would happen if you tied the knot and you changed your mind about him? 

Luke had trusted you with his life. He took your word as true most of the time, but now he was unsure. He wasn’t sure where he lied with you now. He loved you still, yes, and he’d still sacrifice his own happiness for you. Perhaps he blew things over proportion between the two of you. You swore you still loved him and no longer felt anything for Harry. But why did Luke still feel something wrong in his chest? 

He still had mixed feelings about your argument on the night of your premiere. Luke was in Ashton’s living room, quietly sipping on a beer as he waited for the rest of the band and their significant others to meet them there to travel to the theater together. 

Ashton slipped on his jacket, entering the room and looking over at his friend. “y/n not joining us tonight, mate?” he asked. He knew what had happened those nights ago. He was the first person Luke called the moment you left, staying on the phone with him until five in the morning. You had even called him later that day to ask for his advice. He was grateful you both thought of him as an older brother figure, and he wanted nothing more than to get you both together to talk through it. 

Luke set his bottle down, not wanting to get drunk on your important night. “No,” he replied with a heaved sigh. “She texted me that she’ll get there on her own because Alisha wanted to do her hair and makeup.”

Ashton sat down beside him, patting his back. “That’s good she’s still talking to you, right?” he brought up, trying to look on the bright side. 

“Only because I made her swear to keep me updated,” he grumbled. “If it weren’t for that, I think she’d block my number.”

“Now that’s not true,” Ashton told him seriously. 

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “I practically told her I didn’t trust her anymore,” he said, ashamed of himself. “But it’s fair, isn’t it? I knew in my stomach that there was something going on between her and Harry.”

“But there wasn’t,” Ashton reminded him. “She said her feelings toward Harry resurfaced, but she didn’t act on them in any way.”

“But what if one day she wakes up and realizes she can do so much better than me?” Luke asked, voice cracking. He didn’t want to think about that, but that’s all his mind would conjure. “Then she’ll leave me for him and I’ll be the idiot that was strung along the whole time.” 

Ashton leaned back on his sofa. “I think you owe y/n more credit than that,” he said. “She loves you, she said so herself. And if she really wanted Harry, she wouldn’t have fought for you like she did.”

“You’re right,” Luke supposed. “I just feel so guilty now.”

“You can talk to her after the premiere,” Ashton settled. “Trust me, she wants to talk to you, too.”

The two were interrupted by Ashton’s door swinging open to reveal the remaining boys and their significant others. Ready to go, Ashton and Luke joined them outside to hop into Michael’s car. 

Luke got settled in the back seat, reaching for his seat belt when Crystal turned around to face him. “How are you holding up, bub?” she asked, a comforting smile on her face.

He grimaced but tilted his head in response. “Definitely could be better,” he said earnestly. “But Ash helped me through it.”

Crystal reached behind her to pat his knee soothingly. “I’m glad,” she said. “y/n’s the same. I stopped by her hotel this morning to catch up on things.”

“And she’s okay?” Luke leaned in, interested in learning anything about your whereabouts and how you’re doing. 

Crystal put on the same expression as Luke. “About the same as you,” she responded. “But don’t worry, everything will work out in the end.” 

Luke braved a smile. “I hope so.”

—

The carpet leading up to the theater was packed with reporters and photographers trying to get a glimpse of the actors featured in the film. The band was far behind, stuck in the traffic of people stopping them to ask a few questions. 

“Boys!” a man called out. “Over here! I’m here with Vanity Fair.”

The boys shared a glance and went up to the man. “My name is Aamir and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about tonight.”

Michael stood in the front, taking Aamir’s extra microphone. “Let’s hear them!”

“This is the first time your music is being featured in a movie as big as this,” Aamir stated. “How are you all feeling?”

Calum drew in a breath, deciding to take this question. “I mean, how can we feel?” he responded. “It’s a mix of feelings, I can tell you that. I think on behalf of the band, we’re all just really nervous but excited to put out this music for the film. It’s really different from our typical kind of music, but we hope you all love it the same.” 

“I’m sure we’ll all love what you have in store for us,” Aamir said confidently. “Luke, how are you feeling tonight? It’s a big moment for your girlfriend, y/n l/n, as this is her first lead role in a highly anticipated movie. Can you give us an insight on how y/n is feeling and how you both prepared for tonight?”

Luke tried to not let his rigidity and awkwardness show on camera. There was enough dubious press about the two of you after that show with Jimmy Fallon. “I’m sure she’s over the moon about tonight,” he answered, eyes flickering to the camera. “She’s been so excited for this moment and all her hard work has come down to tonight.”

“And how have you prepared together?” Aamir repeated his second question with curiosity as to why Luke didn’t answer in the first place.

Luke bit his lip, trying to answer without showing he was completely unsure. “Well-“

Cheers erupted from the crowd as a limo approached the carpet. Luke thanked God for that distraction because everyone -including himself- turned to see what the commotion was about. 

You stepped outside of the car, dressed in a long white gown that resembled a wedding dress. Luke could only describe you as ethereal as you shyly waved to the photographers and interviewers. He’d never seen you so shy in public, since you’d been in front of the cameras since you were a child. Your eyes were trained on the ground, a shaky smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Reporters shouted at you, desperate to get a word or two with you. Dazed by the flashing lights and loud noises, you took a step forward to where the people were blocked by a gate. In your nervous stature, you began to tremble, hands reaching out for stability but struggling to do so. Your ankle gave way, causing you to fall to the ground. People shouted and “ooh’ed” but no one ran in to help you. 

Rushing forward, Luke ran over to you and wrapped his arm securely around your waist as he guided you back up. You gasped, looking up at your savior and realizing who it was. His name was on your lips but no sound could come out; you were too shocked to say anything since you hadn’t formally spoken to him in days.

Luke gave you a reassuring smile, eyes glancing down at your lips to silently ask for permission to kiss you. You nodded, allowing him to cup the side of your face to kiss you softly. The moment your lips met his, you felt yourself get regrounded. Knowing he was by your side, you felt like yourself again: more confident. 

The press ate up yours and Luke’s stunt, taking photos left and right of the two of you. You pulled away, your hand on his chest and feeling his heart beat quickly. “Thank you,” you whispered. Luke gave you a small nod but remained silent as he led you to the reporters. 

A young woman caught your attention, pointing her microphone in your direction. “Are you alright, y/n?” she asked you, camera pointed at you. “I’m Irina with TMZ. We’re happy to see you tonight!”

Nerves began to creep in as you drew a blank at her question. Luke’s hand squeezed your hip comfortingly, providing you with the stability and strength you needed to get through the event. Nodding to yourself, you opened your mouth to answer. 

“I’m doing great, thank you,” you answered. “Just some first premiere nerves but they never killed anyone! I’m just really grateful Luke was here to save me from that little trip there.” 

Irina pointed her microphone at Luke, who was taken aback but spoke nonetheless. “Anything for my girl,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s her big night and I’m her biggest supporter. She’s my rock for concerts, I’m her rock for premieres. We have each other’s backs.”

Your eyes were stuck on Luke, mesmerized by his face and how his eyelids glistened in the light from his eyeshadow, no doubt from the palette you gifted him on his birthday last year. The corners of your lips quirked upwards, a warm and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest as you looked up at him with pride and love. You almost didn’t hear the interviewer’s final question. 

“y/n, it’s been all over social media how you had a long standing crush on your co-lead, Harry Styles,” Irina stated. You felt Luke’s hand tighten around your hip without him realizing, no doubt irritated by that question. “How did it feel to kiss him and perform in intimate scenes with him?” 

As you opened your mouth to respond, Luke cut in. “Respectfully,” he began. “I think y/n’s work goes far beyond who she kissed or who she did what with. She’s been in the film industry for as long as I can remember, and definitely deserves more questions that dive deeper than who she harbors romantic feelings for.” 

The interviewer’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Of course,” she agreed, rushing to apologize. You simply waved her off, politely excusing both yourself and Luke out of the conversation with grace. 

Luke remained by your side as you made your way through the reporters and photographers, staying silent unless asked a question. You thought he wouldn’t look at you from the way his eyes never met yours -except for when he kissed you, of course- but in fact, he had stared at you the entire time you spoke. Nothing but adoration filled his mind when he listened to you speak about the work you worked so hard to make. It made all of your past problems fade to gray, and he nearly forgot about your whole argument. 

Once you entered the theater, you expected Luke to pull away to find the boys but he didn’t. You stopped in your tracks to turn to him. “You can go back to the boys now,” you whispered gently to him.

Luke was taken by surprise at your words, and hurt flashed across his face. “Do you want me to go?” he asked you.

You were quick to shake your head. “No!” you rushed. “I just thought…you know, it’s your big day, too. I figured you’d want to spend it with them.”

The blond took your hands in his and kissed them softly. “I want to be by your side through it all,” he assured you. “I haven’t seen you in days, and I don’t want a petty fight to get between us and celebrating your greatest achievement.”

Your publicity manager approached you, checking her watch every second or so anxiously. “The movie’s about to start,” she reminded you hurriedly. 

You were about to tell her to give you both a few minutes, but Luke stopped you. “We can talk more later, okay?” he said. You agreed wordlessly, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. 

“Let’s go in together, babe,” you decided. Luke resumed his position beside you, entering the theater together proudly to watch the film the both of you dedicated so much time and effort into. And as Luke took your hand while you both sat in your seats, you knew that everything would be okay in the end. 

–

Once the movie had ended, Harry invited you and the boys to his home for the afterparty but you politely declined, opting to spend the rest of the night with your beloved boyfriend. 

Now, you and Luke took a walk around the finally quieted city, hand in hand. You were grateful you brought another pair of shoes with you because your heels were killing you, and you were more thankful for Luke who insisted on holding your strappy heels for you as you continued your walk. 

“I really can’t thank you enough for saving my neck there on the carpet,” you said in a slightly teasing tone. “I would have actually melted into the floor if you didn’t come to my aid.”

“I meant what I said when I said I always had your back, y/n,” Luke replied, eyes trained on the sidewalk. 

A pregnant silence followed as you made your way through the city, taking in the lights and cool summer air without any fear of paparazzi following close behind you. You found yourself nervously playing with the rings on Luke’s fingers as you tried to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry for that night,” you began, avoiding his questioned gaze. “I should have been more open to you about how I felt from the beginning, but I really do promise that I don’t have any feelings for him. Not anymore, at least. It was a teenage dream come true, but…”

Luke raised an eyebrow at you. “But?” he pressed gently.

You stopped walking, turning to cup his cheek affectionately. “But that’s not my dream anymore,” you finished. “My dream is to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Whether or not you decide to marry me, I want you in my life for all the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m really sorry for ever making you doubt my love for you, and I’m sorry for not being receptive to your doubts and insecurities.” 

“What makes you think I don’t wanna marry you?” he asked you. “Of course I do. I want to see you walk down that aisle with a dress as giant or as small as you want, as long as you become Mrs. Hemmings at the end of it. Or if you don’t want to take my last name, that’s fine, too. I don’t care if you want a big or small wedding or a wedding at all. If you want to take that oath in the townhouse and officially be mine -and I, yours- I’m perfectly okay with that, too.” 

You bit your lip, trying to fight back your tears. “I was just nervous,” you confessed. “I knew you were upset by those questions about me and Harry, but I was upset, too. I just never told you how upset I was.” A stray tear trickled down your face but you stubbornly wiped it away, not wanting to cry. “We’ve been together for ten wonderful years, and all people would ask me is “when are you getting married?” “when is he going to propose?” And at first, I was fine with it. But the more people asked, the more anxious I was about the stability of our relationship.”

When Luke’s face gave away he wasn’t exactly following what you meant, you continued to explain further. “I’ve read so many tweets and articles about how undesirable I am, from the moment I turned sixteen. And the fact that you kept pushing off the idea of us getting married,” you looked away, embarrassed by your reaction to all of this. “It hurts, Lukey. And I know marriage isn’t a thing to rush into and I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but those drama tabloids just make me feel so insecure.” 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Luke frowned, pity settling in, but you waved your hand to brush it off.

“It’s stupid,” you decided, wiping away the extra tears that managed to escape. “I’ve always told you not to give into the press and social media, yet here I am doing that very thing. L-let’s focus on you, Luke.”

“We can talk about my stupid jealousy another time,” Luke fought to stay on topic. “y/n, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this? If I had known, I would have said something-”

“But that’s not how proposals work, Lukey!” you exclaimed. “It’s not something you do out of pity. It’s a decision you make when you’re sure and you’re not! That’s okay, I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll only end up regretting just to please me in the present.” 

Luke took your hand in his, forcing you to look up at him. “Why do you think I’d ever regret marrying you?” he questioned. “y/n, you’re the love of my life. You’re definitely not my first girlfriend but I intend for you to be my last. You’re it for me, n/n. I do want to marry you and I intended to propose, I just wanted to find the right time and place for it. As for my behavior the past few months,” he sighed. “It wasn’t right of me to villainize you and Harry. You’re friends and coworkers, of course you’re going to get close. And I knew that the press would twist the narrative to make it seem like you guys were more than friends. I should have felt secure enough in our relationship to trust you completely, but I was also too insecure to let that be. 

“Harry’s great. He’s talented, a better singer than I’ll ever be, and kind hearted. I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, and seeing him with you made me feel self-conscious all over again. And all those news posts about him being your celebrity crush as a child made me angrier. I know it’s not something I should have blamed you for, I was just so jealous I could barely think straight.” 

Luke stepped closer to you, his breath grazing your face. “I’m sorry for being jealous and ever doubting you,” he said honestly. “I should have trusted you when you said you no longer felt anything for him.”

“I’m sorry for brushing you off and not listening,” you said in response. “I promise you, Luke, you’re it for me, too.” 

Luke choked back a laugh of disbelief, grateful for this whole ordeal getting resolved as he bent down to kiss you deeply. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer to finally taste him, smell him, feel him again. 

Once you pulled back for air, you crinkled your nose as you smiled. “Does this mean we’re engaged?” you asked curiously, eyes sparkling with happiness and love. “You know, since we’re in agreement and everything.” 

“I would have preferred to get down on one knee and that whole spiel,” Luke sighed dramatically. “But yes, I do suppose we are engaged.” 

Grinning, you pulled him back down for another kiss. “We can get to that sappy stuff later,” you insisted. “I just want to spend the rest of my night with my husband-to-be.” 

--

thank you so much for reading! please like and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

[spiderrmax]

main 4 + gen. dating hcs

synopsis: what the title says! general dating headcanons author's note: i always feel like my cartman is ooc. am trying tho i swear. also this was typed up b4 i got requests :) am working on those currently!

Stan Marsh

Is a very chill boyfriend

Was nervous at first though. Definitely got nauseous on your guys first few dates but it died around a few months into your relationship.

The type to send you cat relationship posts with only a caption of “us”

Lets you borrow his jacket when it’s really cold

Enjoys holding your hand; will grab at it unconsciously whenever he’s near you

Doesn’t care a lot about school but will take notes for you if you are absent

Will text you random updates throughout the day. “Cartman and Kyle are fighting again.” “I just saw a cute kitten” “listened to that song you recommended. Was good.”

feel like he's the type to make spotift playlist of songs thay remind him of you or songs you recommended him

Doesn't mind doing the matching couple things as long as it’s not too corny. Will buy matching converse or sweatshirts

Not the biggest on pet names, unless you’re upset or it’s in private; he goes for the classics: babe, love, beautiful

He will always partner up with you if you guys are in a class together. The teacher will mention partner work and you guys instantly make eye contact.

Kyle Broflovski

Is very sweet

A stereotypical romantic; i talked about this in my love language post but he definitely googles ideas for dates and gifts. would have a pinterest board just called "y/n" filled w anything he wants to try and recreate

Any google doc notes he has instantly gets shared to him

if you guys are on a doc at the same time he is definitely talking to you in the comments. he has to reply to every "hi!" you type. he can't help it.

Cliché but he loves study dates. he will always meet you at the library to study and chill for a bit. He will unconsciously stare at you and gets embarrassed if you point it out. The date always ends with him taking you out for coffee or lunch/dinner depending on the time.

Isn’t very open about your relationship; likes keeping most stuff behind closed doors.

However it’s not a secret. People know you are together. although not the biggest PDA fan will hold your hand if someone is looking at you too long.

In the early stages of your relationship, he’d get flustered so fast. You’d smile and wave at him in the halls and he’d turn a bright red.

The kinda guy to drag his thumb over your knuckles when you guys hold hand

I think he'd be a forehead kisser. It's so domestic and he'd love doing it.

Will always walk you home from the bus stop/school. Even if it’s a bit out of his way.

Is extremely comfortable around you. Will let you see his hair and take his hat off in closed doors. Will laugh when you try to wear it, because it doesn’t fit, but finds it cute. is only slightly amused at your attempt to impersonate him.

Eric Cartman

Is so cocky he’s dating you

Constantly brings you up in a conversation. He doesn’t even mean to most times, but it happens so casually

Doesn’t really enjoy sharing, but will give you some of his snacks if you look down. He’ll say you owe him but won’t really hold you to it.

Spam messages you constantly, especially if he knows you aren’t doing anything. They get more clingy as he messages you until you reply. Then he plays it off like he didn’t even want your attention; he was just bored.

Loves when you wear his clothes. Doesn’t like when you do it so much in public but once you had to borrow a shirt because you spilled something on yours. He just stared at you, in awe of how good you could look in something of his.

Will try on assignments he is working with you on. He respects you more and knows his slacking off will directly affect you. He still doesn’t put in 100% effort but you don’t have to carry his whole weight.

Loves calling you those really obnoxious pet names. Finds them so funny because you hate them.

Loves it even more when you call him a pet name. At first he will mock you for calling him something like "honey," but then he won't be able to stop thinking about it. Will reluctantly tell you you can keep calling him that stuff. But not in front of the guys.

This also applies to kissing. He will mock you the first you kiss his cheek as a goodbye but now he leans his head towards you if you're getting up to go.

His love language is making fun of you. Will call you stupid and ugly constantly but will throw hands with anyone else who dares try and call you that.

Kenny Mccormick

loves loves LOVES showing you off

Will bring you up in conversation, but isn’t as braggy as Cartman gets. Just loves you so much.

He is also with you as much as he can be. wIll walk you to each of your classes even if it causes him to be late.

The type to carry any books you’re holding while you walk. Will even balance them in one hand so his other is free to grab onto yours.

The type to wait by your locker to walk you home. He will rush to get there before you do.

Will pull down his hood when he’s with you for the sole reason he loves when you play with his hair. Enjoys putting his head in your lap, it’s his way of inviting you to do it.

loves listening to you talk! no matter what you are rambling about you have kenny's full attentions.

 Although known as a serial flirter/perv, it dies down when he gets into a relationship with you. He’s very loyal and won't risk your relationship or your trust

Comes over to your house a bunch. Your parents are used to him coming over frequently. He probably has clothes left there and his own toothbrush.

Loves playing video games with you! Even if you’re bad. Will have you sit between his legs so he can help with your hand placement if it’s a single game. (In mario kart, his go to is princess rosaline or daisy)

[qveerthe0ry]

Lions Ain't the Kind - Part One

Summary: Frankie hasn't dated in years, but now he knows what he's looking for. He's just not so good at asking for what he wants, and you're willing to help him work on it. Word Count: 8,156 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom! reader, talks about gender non-conformity, sickening fluff, Frankie is way too cute and sweet for his own good, kissing, making out, handjob (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), dirty talk, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader Beta: @perotovar (my angel ilysm) A/N: Sorry for talking about this for a month straight without posting it lol! The title is from the song (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis Presley which I admittedly haven't listened to but I saw the lyrics and knew immediately it was my Frankie. I hope you enjoy, and I'm always open to criticism and thoughts and thots!

Frankie hasn’t dated in years. He hasn’t really had the time, between his first child being born and navigating co-parenting with his ex, along with healing some very deep trauma and getting and staying clean. 

It just hasn’t been on his mind, if he’s honest. He’s been busy finding himself, as Pope calls it. And he’s not wrong. It’s taken a long while for him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come to terms with the things he’s done and the baggage he can now store in an overhead bin, rather than carry it around with him at all times. 

But now, he’s ready. He knows himself, and as a result, he knows what he’s looking for.

Someone kind-hearted and down to earth. Someone who’s independent and established, but not just looking for a hookup. Someone with a sweet smile and a desire for enjoying the little things in life. 

Someone like you. 

He’d swiped right and left dozens of times on men and women alike, but as soon as he saw your profile on whatever dating app he’d downloaded, he was hooked.

You were gorgeous. He felt the heat from your smile through his phone screen, so happy and genuine and sweet.

You were funny, the answers to those weird icebreaker questions full of witty remarks.

You were smart, clearly, from your shoutout to your alma matter and the ‘boring’ job you mentioned in your profile.

He honestly figured he had no chance at all. His face is only getting more wrinkly, and his hair more gray, and he’s never been the sharpest or funniest guy in the room. 

So when he swiped left and you matched, he was stunned. He was even more shocked when you messaged him before he could even think of what to say to you. 

Hi cutie 🥰 

Despite the fact that he was home alone on his couch, he had the sudden urge to look behind him, as if you’d be talking to someone else. The back of his neck got so warm, and your boldness only made him more into you. 

So he messaged you back

Hi :) how are you?

I’m surprised we matched, honestly. Pleasantly surprised 😊

Same here :) Why the surprise though? I’m sure you match with everyone

Not at all, it’s hard to find people whose type I am on here. I usually use the queer dating apps but I opened this one out of boredom. What are the chances?

What are the chances, indeed, Frankie thinks, as he gives your profile another look over. Frankie doesn’t understand how you aren’t everyone’s type. He feels a little bit like he’s talking to a celebrity, looking at your pictures and just a snippet of who you are on this reductive dating app. 

I like the odds :)

——

As your conversation continues normally over the next few days, Frankie learns a lot about you. He also learns a lot about himself. 

It’s been so long since he’s played the field, so to speak, that he’s rusty as all hell and a bit awkward. He’s afraid to flirt too much, every message deleted and re-written at the risk of sounding too cheesy or too forward or too much. 

You aren’t afraid to flirt. You send ‘good morning, handsome’ and ‘sweet dreams, pretty boy’ texts every day and night. You tell him your day would be better if you could cuddle someone, you tell him when you’re taking a relaxing bath that you wished he were there to join you. 

And to say that Frankie likes it is a massive fucking understatement. 

He adores it, he thinks about you constantly, all day long while he works without access to his phone, all evening long while he waits on your replies, all night long, when you’ve bid each other goodnight out of nothing but courtesy for each other’s sleep schedules.

You lead him along like a timid puppy on a leash, showing him new things with patience and care and it drives him insane. He wants to meet up with you so bad, or even just call you on the phone to hear your voice. He thinks about it, late at night, if it’s higher or lower in register, if it’s smooth or raspy. He wants to learn everything about you. 

That being said, he’s not sure if he’s ever met someone who’s ‘non-binary/gender-fluid’ before. He doesn’t get out much, he hardly talks to anyone who he hasn’t known for years. 

So he googles. It doesn’t really help. He understands what it means, but he doesn’t know what it means to you. He wants to ask you a million questions, but is afraid to bring up even one, and ruin the moment, or sound like an idiot. 

You’re so kind though. So he bites the bullet. 

Can I ask you a question?

Your response comes almost immediately, now that it’s evening time, both finished with dinner— his takeout vs. your leftover spaghetti. 

Of course, pretty boy ❤️

He still flushes deep when you call him that, heat spreading all throughout his face and neck and chest. 

How did you know you were non-binary/ gender-fluid? 

He frets over the text a bunch before he sends it, making sure he worded it the same way you did in your profile. His heart pounds as he waits for your response. 

I’ve always just kind of known I didn’t feel like a man or a woman. I used to think everyone felt somewhere in between, and it was just normal to not feel like I checked either box, but then I realized no one else around me felt the way I did. And then I learned all the terms and whatnot, later on, and knew that’s what I am. Just kinda in between, neither and both, sometimes one and sometimes the other. If that makes sense?

His smile splits his cheeks as he reads your in-depth response, eating up every bit of information you’re willing to give him. 

That makes perfect sense to me. Thank you for sharing :) 

It doesn’t scare you off?

Frankie scoffs, as if anything about you could scare him off. At this point, you could show up on his doorstep with a dead body in a bag, and he’d throw it in his trunk, dispose of it, and then ask if he could maybe kiss you.

Not at all. Nothing about you scares me :)

——

It’s a few more days before Frankie works up the courage to ask for your phone number. You tell him you were wondering when he was going to finally ask for it. It makes him itchy to think about you waiting for him to ask, making him be the one to do it. In a good way. In a way that kind of makes him stiffen up in his briefs if he thinks about it for too long.

But now, as he settles in from a long day at work, his grin splits his face from ear to ear as he reads your text.

Can I take you out tomorrow night?

He likes it… a lot. He feels so fucking new to all this, like a fumbling newborn calf taking its first steps, and how forward you are eases him so thoroughly.

I’d love that :)

Meet me here at 5 for dinner. Casual dress, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome in anything 😘

It’s the longest 22 hours of his life, and it’s the shortest, all at the same time. Texting you, making funny jokes like his bones aren’t about to creep right out from under his skin with all the nerves buzzing his body. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, one right after the other. When he wakes in the morning it’s like he didn’t get a wink of sleep, his anxiety drumming up a million different scenarios of how it could go right and wrong. 

Calling Santi mid-morning on a Saturday when he knows he’s spending time with his family, because if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he may just float off into the ether. 

“I’m so fucking nervous, Pope, what do I do? How do I act? Can you just stake out at the bar and feed me lines through an earpiece?”

“Pendejo, fucking— grow a pair man. You’re cute and funny, you’ve got this.”

Reading your texts with pupils shaped like hearts:

I can’t wait to see you tonight, cutie ❤️

and 

I finally settled on an outfit

and

Is it weird that I’m not even nervous? I’m just excited to finally meet you

It is weird, Frankie thinks, but doesn’t dare tell you. It’s weird how he can’t even eat the plain toast he made for lunch without feeling bile rise in the back of his throat, and you’re just excited. It’s weird how he’s never, ever felt so gone over someone, and you haven’t even met yet. 

It’s not weird, it’s sweet :) I’m excited too &lt;3

It’s not a lie, but he’s omitting the truth a bit. He’s excited but he’s nervous, picking meticulously through his closet to find something casual but not too casual, something he likes the look of himself in, something he thinks you’ll like the look of. 

It only gets worse as he stares at google maps. The restaurant is 2.6 miles away, 11 minutes from his house. It’s 4:30, and he wants to leave already, but thinks maybe it’s better to deal with the anxiety in the comfort of his home rather than the parking lot, in case you’re there early too, and you can see how much of a fucking wreck he is. 

He watches the minutes tick up in the corner of his phone screen. At 4:36, he gets up, fusses in the mirror one last time, and leaves. 

When he parks in the lot in front of the bar & grill, you’ve already texted him. 

I’m here a little early, got all green lights. Saved us a table near the back. See you soon!

It’s 4:52. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes as he lets it out gently, counting just like his therapist taught him. And again. And one more time, and finally that anxious tingling in his fingertips is muted a bit and his heart rate is only slightly above normal. 

4:54.

He pulls the key from the ignition, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the door. 

He finds you instantly. 

You’re looking at him, and you’re smiling, and getting up from your chair as he approaches you. He barely even hears you greet him with all his blood rushing in his ears. 

“Hi, Frankie,” you say, and your arms stretch out to invite him in for a hug. 

He melts into your arms, his strained “hi” muffled in the crook of your neck. You squeeze him tight to you, and he hears you chuckle next to his ear. 

“Knew you’d be even cuter in person.”

He huffs out a laugh as you release him, and the tips of his ears burn. But you’re smiling so sweetly at him that it eases his nervous bones. 

“You look— can I call you handsome?” 

Fuck, he thinks, so fucking awkward. 

But your grin gets even wider. 

“Only if you mean it.” 

“I do,” he sighs, “like straight out of the cologne ads I’d rip out of my older sister’s magazines.”

He holds his breath as you react, the flutter of your eyelashes and the quivering of your lips and your laugh, bubbly and bright and soothing. 

And he isn’t lying, not even a little. You’re rugged but soft, romantic and alluring, and he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even as you take your seats across from each other, and the waiter comes to take your drink orders, and as your gorgeous eyes flit across the pages of the menu. He can’t stop looking, watching your mouth curve into a smile as you talk about your week and ask him about his. 

It’s pathetic, really, when the waiter asks if you’re ready to order, and you ask if he knows what he wants, because he hasn’t taken a single glance at the menu himself. He just hopes to god the dim lighting of the bar hides his flushed face and tells you to order first while he skims the menu. 

He ends up ordering exactly what you got, and floundering when your hand finds his on the tabletop. He watches your fingers trace his own from his nails to his knuckles, and flips his palm up for you to rest your hand in his. 

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” you tell him. 

His eyes flicker up from your joined hands to your smiling face, and his nerves completely melt away from the heat of your gaze. 

“Thank you for asking me,” he says.

“Would you have asked me, if I hadn’t asked you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, and there’s a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Eventually,” he nods, “I mean… probably.” 

Your eyebrows turn up in question, and he realizes how that sounds, jumping to backtrack. 

“Not like that! I just mean— You know… You’re uh… well, I feel like you’re way out of my league. And so maybe I’m a little… intimidated.”

You smile, then, and sigh, and squeeze his hand as you call him a sweet boy. It makes the room feel like it’s a hundred degrees warmer, like Frankie’s clothes are suddenly two sizes too small. 

“You aren’t so good at asking for what you want, are you?” 

He laughs then, and shakes his head. 

“Not really, no.”

“We’ll have to work on that, then.”

He clears his throat, and tugs at his collar with his free hand, breaking his gaze away from your face as you chuckle. He looks to find a waiter, or maybe an HVAC guy that could crank the AC to sub-zero temps for the remainder of the date. 

No luck. 

The rest of the date goes well. Surprisingly well. Frankie was worried that he’d be so out of practice that he’d freeze up, or say something stupid, or do something stupid, like knock over a drink or get food stuck in his teeth. 

But you’re just so easy to talk to, to click with. Of course, you’re the one who facilitates the conversation, asking him about his favorites— movies, TV shows, music, time of year. 

But he likes to think that he keeps the ball rolling well enough, is aware enough to remember to ask for some of your favorites— holiday, food, cocktails. 

By the time the check comes, he hardly realizes you’ve both had empty plates in front of you for a while, talking and laughing through your meals like you’re just catching up with an old friend. 

He protests when you grab the check, because of course he does. You’ve given him this incredible night, your comfortable company, your sweet smiles, and he feels like his offerings pale in comparison. 

“I asked you out, Francisco,” you tease him, having just learned his full name a mere 20 minutes ago. 

And he can’t really protest anymore, what with the shiver that’s tingling his spine and the goosebumps he tries to hide by gripping the chair underneath him. So he lets you pay, and thanks the waiter, and feels a rush of sadness when they come back with the check to sign. He really doesn’t want this evening to end. 

The apprehension falls second to the sensation of your hand on the small of his back, leading him out to the parking lot. 

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there,” you say, your thumb pressing a soothing circle into the base of his spine. 

So he walks to his truck, a little self-conscious about the out-of-dateness of it, and how he didn’t think to run it through a car wash before this. But mostly he’s just nervous about ending this date on a good note. 

“This is me,” he says, barely above a whisper, stopping at his driver’s side door. 

You smile at him when he turns to you. 

“Thanks again for coming out with me. I really did have a great time.”

This makes him smile through the unease, even as your hand drops from the small of his back. 

“I did too. Would you uh… wanna hang out again soon?”

Your face lights up, and Frankie wants to capture it in a bottle and take it home with him. Keep it at his bedside to use as a nightlight.

“Are you asking me on a date?” 

He chuckles and looks down to his feet like maybe it’ll redirect the flush in his face. You grab his hand, hanging by his side, and luckily you don’t make him speak again because he doesn’t know if he’s even able. 

“I’d love to. Really.” 

He smiles when he looks back up at you, only briefly, because you drop his hand and take a half step back. 

“Call me about it.”

“Wait!”

Your brow arches at him, because you weren’t really going anywhere, but Frankie’s mind is running a thousand miles a second. He thinks back to all the times you’ve goaded him into asking for what he wants, so far, and how it hasn’t bit him in the rear yet. 

“Can we— I… Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your smile softens, and you take that little half-step back closer to him, and he feels all the tension leak from his shoulders. 

“Yes, you can. Thank you for asking.”

He huffs, and smiles at you, and you’re reaching out to cup his jaw and grab his hip, and Frankie closes his eyes far too early, but it’s okay, because he feels your body heat and then your lips. 

He can’t hold back the hum that rumbles from deep in his chest, or the way that he goes a little boneless in your grasp. He finds your forearm and squeezes it, and your bicep too, anything to ground himself as your lips part and your tongue teases the seam of his lips. 

But then you’re pulling back, and it’s over far too quickly, and Frankie is also acutely aware of how tight his jeans feel. His face feels like it could melt right off of his skull. 

“Call me soon, Pretty Boy.”

He nods, speechless, and watches you disappear between the cars of the parking lot. On his way home, he’s already fretting over whether or not he should text you tonight, and what kind of date he should plan, and if his breath was okay when you let him kiss you. 

——

Frankie is perfect. 

You’re still not sure how you found this diamond in the rough that is Tinder. You thank every god you know the name of that you got bored and opened the app on auto-pilot that night. 

First of all, he’s so cute. He’s handsome in such a boyish way, with his dimples and unruly curls and patchy beard. 

But he’s also so kind, the way he talks to you like it’s a privilege, the way he asks careful and curious questions about you like he truly wants to know the parts of you that are deeper than what’s on the surface. 

Every simple text from him makes you smile, the way he always tries to make you laugh or cheer you up when you’re overwhelmed with the demands of life, as you often are.

And meeting him in person solidified everything you thought about him.

He seems like the textbook definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, if you ever get to call him that much. You hope you do.

In fact, it seems like it’s moving quite quickly in that direction when Frankie asks if you’d be down for a movie night. Some blockbuster he missed in theaters is finally streaming, and he thinks you’ll like it. 

You don’t tell him that you didn’t miss it in theaters, or that you thought it was just okay. 

You do tell him you’d be down to watch it, only if he came to your place, where the walls are thin and your surrounding neighbors all know you and watch out for you. Just in case he’s really good at acting  like a sweet, safe guy. 

You find yourself giddy as the weekend approaches, daydreaming at work about how the night will turn out. You tell him to come in comfy clothes, because you’ll be damned if you wear jeans in your own home, even for this sweet man. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, that’s my favorite kind of outfit :) is his cute response. 

You get everything ready the day of; your coziest blankets hang off the arms of your sofa, your fridge is stocked with fresh fruits and your pantry with candy and microwave popcorn and chips (I’ll eat whatever you get :) his answer to your questioning of his favorite movie snacks, of course.)

And then you sit around and wait, excited nerves coaxing your body to straighten things up that have been straightened up a million times already. When Frankie texts you his ETA, you park yourself on the couch by the door and stare at it until there’s a knock on it. 

You may count to ten before you get up to open it, just to hide how eager you’ve been to see him again. 

Your throat does get a little dry when you answer it to find him in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs his arms and light gray joggers that hug… Other things. 

“Hi handsome,” you smile, pushing down all the nerves and the less-than-PG thoughts. 

“Hi. I um… I brought these. I noticed you ordered them on our uh– well, at the restaurant, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed.” 

You watch a flush break out on his face, and his neck, and wonder how far under his collar it actually spreads. 

He’s holding up a six pack of your favorite beers, and he’s smiling so shyly, and you have to crowd in closer to him to press a kiss to his heated cheek. 

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” 

He giggles— giggles, Jesus Christ— and you take them from his hand to let him come through the door. 

You set the beers in your fridge to let them chill as he kicks off his shoes. You watch him from the kitchen as he takes in your place with his pretty brown eyes. 

“It’s really cozy in here,” he tells you as he fiddles with his own hands. 

“Snuggle up, get comfy, I’ll bring us some snacks.”

He nods, so obedient, and hovers by the couch before settling on the seat in the middle. 

Sly move, you think, and you can’t hide your stupid grin as you gather some snacks. 

When you turn off all but one lamp and deposit the junk food on the coffee table, you notice he’s inched himself closer to the arm of the couch, like he was second-guessing himself. That just won’t do, you think, as you settle in right next to him, so close that the length of your body is pressed against his. 

He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the Roku City scrolling across your flat screen. For a second you think he might be uncomfortable, but the way his breathing is uneven clues you in on his nerves. 

You reach over him to grab the blanket in the arm of the couch, and you feel his muscles tense up when you press against him. 

“Frankie?” 

“Huh? Sorry, yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and sighs, heavy and long, before looking at you.

“I’m so nervous.”

He smiles in spite of it, lopsided, dimples so cute that your lips quiver with the urge to kiss them. 

You smile back, and drape the blanket over both of you, patting his leg through it. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, Francisco.”

It gets a laugh out of him, a huff through his nose, and his shoulders lower the tiniest bit. You slowly reach up to cradle his jaw in your palm, careful not to spook this little baby deer of a man, but his face leans into your touch. 

“If it helps, I think it’s really sweet that you’re nervous.” 

“Thank you… I think?”

You laugh at him, and watch as your reaction makes his eyes brighten. You want to kiss him. You want to smooch the absolute daylights out of him, but there’s still 3 hours of a pretentious movie to watch, and there will be plenty of time, if he’s amenable. 

So you just pinch his cheek before you let go, and try not to look so smug at the heat that consumes his face as you get the movie up and running. 

Fifteen or so minutes into the film, Frankie has relaxed into the couch, though he’s stock-still beside you with his arms glued to his own sides. You just want to cuddle, at least. You’ve been thinking about it for weeks— getting his warm, solid but soft body against your own. 

You’re certain he won’t be the one to initiate it, but that’s all fine and dandy. You rearrange yourself a bit, and sling an arm over his shoulders. He looks away from the movie towards you, and you give him a smile that must be comforting. 

He sinks lower on the couch, and leans against you, his messy curls pressed against your shoulder while his arm drapes over your lap. You think you hear his satisfied hum under the dialogue of the characters, and you let your head rest against his. 

This is nice. Frankie’s so warm against you, the most comforting weight all lax against your side. Your hand creeps up from his shoulder to his head, and his hair is so silky when you finally work up the gall to run your fingers through it.

You can feel the way it affects him when he shivers and presses even closer into you. You watch the movie like that for a while, snacks untouched, fingertips stroking his scalp as his soft curls slip through your digits. Every once in a while his head tilts to look up at you, piercing brown, and each time you smile back down and ruffle his hair.

It’s just after the first big conflict of the film when you feel Frankie shift against you. His arm moves in your lap, and you watch his thick fingers grab your thigh over the blanket. 

It shocks you how such a simple gesture makes your temperature rise. You hum and let your nails scratch more firmly against his head. You can hear him gasp, and feel him move impossibly closer, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together. You glance down at him, past the curls you’ve lost yourself in, and his eyes are closed. Further, the curve of his nose and pout of his lips, his chest that’s heaving with his excited breaths, you notice a suspicious tent in the blanket, and you don’t want to assume, but the context clues are all there. 

Frankie is hard. 

You can’t blame him. You’ve been aroused since you pressed his body against yours, a slow simmering underneath the surface that’s made you feel so comfortably warm and relaxed. 

You shift, and you swear you hear a barely-there whine leave his lips. You move just enough so you can press your free hand to his chest. Under your palm, you can feel his heart beating, a pace that’s concerningly higher than appropriate for sitting and watching dialogue in a movie. 

His head turns toward you, his hair slipping through the grasp of your knuckles. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes and his pupils are so dilated that it makes you take a deep breath. He turns his body  toward you next and there it is the hard line of his cock pressed against the outside of your thigh. You see him shudder at the friction, watch his eyes grow droopy as they flicker down to glance at your lips. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

And he asks so sweetly, voice a little hoarse from the silence, that you couldn’t dream of denying him. 

“Yes, Frankie.”

His lips tremble until they meet yours, so soft and chaste, a stark contrast to his scruffy beard and mustache. His breath hitches; you can hear it and feel it. His chest shudders under your palm and pushes air out to gust against your cheeks. You feel his prick, too, twitching against your thigh as your tongue peeks out to tease his pouty bottom lip. 

He pulls back so much quicker than you want him to, but it’s also such a reward to look at him this close. His lips shiny, his cheeks flushed, his irises completely usurped by his pupils. His mouth hangs open and you can’t help yourself as you slide your hand from his chest to his jaw and pull him into you once again. 

A surprised little noise works its way out of his throat, and his hips jerk forward, and then he’s groaning as his cock throbs against the outside of your thigh. The noise makes that feeling in your gut draw deeper, lower, and you make one of your own in response. 

His hand rests dutifully still on your thigh, but you can feel his fingers twitching as your taste buds rub against his– a friction that has no right to be as delicious as it is. You want him to feel you up, to touch you all over, to give in to the desire that’s blatantly pressed against you. You want to hear these noises he seems to be holding back, the whimpers that just barely make it past his vocal chords before he cuts them off. 

You pull away this time. Pride swells in your chest as you look at what you’ve already done to him. His curls are even messier now that you’ve run your fingers through them over and over. His eyes are all glassy when he looks at you, pouty lips slick and red. 

He sits so still, aside from his heaving breaths, like he’s waiting for your command. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie.”

His eyes widen and christ, if they get any wider they’re going to suck you in like a supermassive black hole. 

“I– I’m okay, I like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He nods, trying to convince you, as he not-so-subtly pulls his erection free from its trap between his body and your thigh. His eyes cast downward, but you swiftly grab his chin in your hands to bring them back to you. 

“Francisco,” you mumble, “ask for what you want.”

He gasps and bites his plush bottom lip, hard enough that there’s little indents when he opens his mouth. He shuts it again, and squirms against you, and finally opens it once more. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

His request comes out hardly above a whisper, all broken and breathy, and his gaze settles somewhere behind you. 

“Is that all?”

He nods quickly, eyes snapping back to you. 

“I swear– I just wanna feel your hands on me.” 

Your smile widens as his face gets so serious, eyebrows knitting together. 

“That’s good, that’s really good,” you mumble. 

The shudder that visibly rolls through him is like a shockwave, sending every one of your nerve endings on-edge. You huff, an amazed little breath at this fucking guy in front of you, so responsive and timid and utterly fuckable. 

“You like that? Like being good for me?”

He nods again, more apprehensive this time, but he can’t hold back his whine when his hips press against you. The possibilities of all the things you could do to this man stretch far and wide; it’s entirely overwhelming. 

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, because he is, “c’mere.”

You pull the blanket off of you both, and Frankie reaches down to adjust himself so it isn’t so obvious, like you haven’t felt his cock twitching against you this entire time. It’s so endearing you think you could cry, but you’re much too turned on for sentiment at the moment. Instead, you guide him to straddle you, hands on his slender hips until his thighs cage your own. 

For a moment you just watch as he sits patiently, obediently, waiting for your next words like his cock isn’t leaking a pretty little damp patch into his sweatpants. His chest heaves with every breath, and his tongue licks and bites at his swollen lips, and his eyes stay trained on your mouth in anticipation. 

“So pretty,” you whisper. 

His long eyelashes flutter at your compliment, and he turns his head to try and hide his reaction, but it doesn’t mask the way his prick twitches under gray fabric. Your hands find his waistband and tease the edge and you delight in the way he shivers. 

You need to feel more, so you press your hands under his shirt and hum at what you find. A soft tummy and smooth skin that makes way for a small trail of wiry hairs. It’s all revealed to you a moment later when you hike his shirt higher, reach for pecs that are more solid than you imagined, and the smallest nipples you think you’ve ever had your hands on. 

You look back up to his face for permission with a quirked brow, and he nods eagerly, grabbing the back of his collar to shed the material and bare himself and it’s so lovely. There’s so much tan skin, hardly any of it is obstructed by hair, just the errant freckle here or there. And you can’t help it, you have to lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth. 

He gasps your name, but one of his hands finds the back of your head to keep you in place. You hum around the little nub, so small you have trouble getting your teeth to bite down on it, but you do and then he groans, his hips jerking in your hold on them. 

“Is this how you wanted me to touch you?”

You lean your head back to look him in the eyes, to watch a pained expression flit over his face as he tries to come up with an answer he thinks you’ll like. 

“I like this too,” he nods, “but I, um… fuck–”

He cuts himself off to hide his face in his hands. He is so cute and so sexy at the same time, it’s making your brain go haywire. 

“Tell me, Frankie. Be good for me, Pretty Boy.” 

He shifts on top of you as he looks up at your ceiling. You soothe your hands up and down his flanks and wait patiently for him to find the words. 

He drops his hand from his face, fists clenching down by his sides, but he finally looks down at you and smiles, shy and sweet, just a hint of that dimple you adore rearing its head.

“Touch my cock? You got me so hard.”

You smile bright at his request, and nod, and press a kiss to his sternum. 

“Anything you want,” you mumble, “just gotta ask. Just like that.”

He looks pretty proud of himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as you look up at him, and you take a playful bite of his skin and savor the gasp it coaxes out of him. 

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” 

Your fingers sneak under his waistband and his skin is so hot under there, searing. You only have a few moments to bask in the warmth before he stands up to remove his pants and briefs in one bashful move. 

Jesus. 

He’s so gorgeous, bare for you, vulnerable, excited. His foreskin is all pulled back, revealing a delicious looking string of pre-cum from his slit. You desperately want to lean forward and taste— but he didn’t ask for that, and you won’t give it to him unless he does. 

Stunned a bit silent, you pat your lap, urging him to settle back over it. Much to your delight, he does, quick and obedient. An approving hum bubbles up out of your chest, and he preens as he sits on your thighs. 

There’s a very wicked feeling in you as you stare at him, completely naked, while you haven’t shed a single layer of clothing. Control, and trust, and power. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes your lungs feel too inflated for your rib cage, to know you could take advantage of it, and to know you never ever would. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, finally, testing those waters. 

Frankie’s dick twitches between you two, and you huff and smile and wonder how something so perfect and precious has literally landed right in your lap. 

He’s been more than good, and so with one hand you grab his hip to steady him, and the other takes his cock as gentle as ever. A sharp inhale inflates his chest as you stroke the smooth skin, a teasing, feather-light touch that makes his legs tense up in your lap. You watch him disappear and reappear through the loose circle of your hand, watch another clear droplet bead from his slit when you squeeze him tighter. 

“Does this feel good?”

He’s watching your hand work when you look back up to his face. He nods, a jerky movement that seems to shake his entire body, and he’s so on-edge. You feel it in the way he shifts his weight on top of you. 

“Words, Frankie,” you urge, a soft smile on your face. 

“So good.”

You hum, taking in the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his adam’s apple pokes out when he leans his head back. 

You reward him by speeding up your strokes. You squeeze his hip with your free hand, kneading at the soft flesh there, while you lean forward to press kisses into his virtually hairless chest. His skin is so hot it feels like it could burn you, flushed such a pretty color, just like you knew it would be. 

He whines when you gather up more pre cum with your thumb and gently massage it into his frenulum. You look up to find him staring down at you with glassy eyes, bottom lip tucked tight between his teeth. 

“Can we kiss more?”

His voice is breathy, and you nod, and a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your system when his lips eagerly meet yours. 

It’s sloppier, this time. Noisier, too, as you tighten your grip on his cock and begin to properly work your hand up and down his length. You steal his breath and his noises straight from his lungs, feel every shudder he pushes out when you twist your wrist just right or squeeze tighter. 

His hips start to meet your thrusts, rutting into your hand, such a desperate little thing on top of you, all for you. You want to encourage him to take his pleasure from you, and so you slip your hand back from his waist, find the perfectly pert globe of his ass with your palm. 

“Haa— shit.”

His words muffle into your kiss as his hips stutter in rhythm and you lean forward to smirk into the bald patch of his beard. 

“Yeah?” 

A gasp wrecks through his heaving chest as he nods. 

“Please, fuck— please.”

You hum into his jaw and squeeze his cock and his ass respectively. 

“Please what, Pretty Boy?” 

He leans back. You watch him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head from left to right. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie. Know you can.” 

A big gulp of air, and then he opens his eyes to look at you, then blinks them shut again as his head lolls back in his shoulders. 

“Touch me there. I— I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you take mercy on him, bringing your hand up from his backside to cradle his jaw in your palm. He tilts his head into your touch and opens his eyes.

“I got you, sweet boy,” you remind him. 

He nods in understanding, shifting to kiss the heel of your palm. You let him rest his lips there as he catches his breath, feel them quivering every other upstroke of your hand on his prick. 

But as he makes to move, you hold his jaw steady in your hand. His eyes flicker back to your face, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, if he can tell how beside yourself you really are. 

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, you trace the pad of your middle finger along the seam of his lips. You’re awestruck at how they instantly fall open for you, greedy, something you’re definitely looking forward to exploring more later. 

For now, you watch with hooded eyes as he takes it into his mouth, tongue curling and lapping at it. You briefly wonder if fingers are erogenous zones, beyond turned on at how warm and wet the inside of his mouth feels, how he suckles and releases, bobs his head over and over until you snap out of it. 

“Good boy. Fucking perfect,” you sigh.

He gets a cocky little goofy grin on his face at the praise, but his prick twitches against your grasp. You squeeze it for good measure, and more of his pre-cum dribbles over your knuckles. 

You lean into him again, and he leans into you, holding each other up. Your mouth finds his pebbled nipple once again as his prick drags across your shirt and saturates it. He hisses at the friction, then gasps when your hand grabs his ass cheek again. 

You pull it as best as you can with one hand. It isn’t too difficult with how it fits so perfectly round in your palm. You squeeze it, massage it, note how the littlest hint of peach fuzz feels against your clammy hand. You wonder how it would feel under your tongue, too, how it would taste, how the fatty flesh would feel between your teeth. 

His hips stutter forward when your finger, slick with his saliva, strokes the very top of his crack. And you don’t mean to tease too much, but his jerky movements and satisfied sounds when you do are like music to your ears. 

Finally you find his hole, fluttering around nothing, so little and tight, all for you. 

“Ohmygod.”

Frankie sounds pained, so much so that you look up from nuzzling his chest to watch his face. His brows are drawn tight with how his eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is hung open, slick with a little drool around the corners of his lips. Without context, maybe he would look pained, too, but the way his cock throbs and dribbles in your hand paints a completely different picture. 

And what a pretty picture he is, gulping for air above you, thrusting his hips back into your finger and forward through your fist, like he’s so out of his mind that he can’t even make it up. 

You apply more pressure to his impossibly tight pucker and sink your teeth into his skin at the way he whines for you. You do it again, and again, a patient little rhythm until it relaxes and the very tip of your finger slips into his warmth. 

He groans, clenching tight around you. 

“Okay, Frankie?”

He laughs, a little puff of air, and you feel it where you’re inside him. 

“Gonna make me come,” he chokes.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, don’t— fuck— please don’t stop.”

You hum into his chest, squeeze your hand tighter around his prick as you speed up your strokes. He’s groaning now, deep and low and constant, like he couldn’t hold it back if he tried. 

You wiggle your finger against his rim, tugging him open for you, toying with the elastic muscle. He’s so pliable everywhere, opening up to you, happily taking what you give him. 

In a stiff moment you think he isn’t into it, because he freezes up and goes silent. You make to slip out of him, but his warmth just drags you in.

And then his cock jumps in your grasp, and his hole clamps around your finger as he gasps your name, and he’s coming. 

He shakes with it as he soaks your shirt and drips over your hand. You stroke him through it and marvel at the way he feels in your grasp and around you, violent waves of pleasure that you can sense where you touch him. 

You look up to watch him tremble through it and he’s gorgeous. Sweat drips from his messy curls at his temple and paints a glimmer down his neck, all pulled taught as his head hangs back. His chest tastes salty under your tongue where it heaves, you can’t get enough of the flavor, or the wicked beating of his heart under your lips. 

And his noises, fucking delicious, wrung-out curses that just keep tumbling from his red lips. His stomach trembles with his shaky breaths, and he sounds so wrecked as the last bit of his orgasm tricked down the back of your hand. 

His whispered chants of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” slow to a stop just as his joints unlock and his muscles relax. You take it as a sign to loosen your grip on his spent cock and carefully slip your finger back out of him. It earns you one last whimper before he sags into you, a boneless little heap in your lap. 

You unhand him to hold him against you, wipe your hand on the discarded blanket beside you so you can stroke his back with one hand and his fuzzy little buttcheek with the other. 

You tell him how good he was for you, how pretty he is when he comes, how much you loved getting to do that to him. 

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and his huffs tickle that sensitive spot on your neck just below your ear. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs. 

You nod, because he’s correct. Holy shit, indeed. 

His voice is a little hoarse, and you’re conflicted. You want to hold him as long as he’ll let you, but you know you should get him some water and at least a towel. 

You shift under him and he whimpers, wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders.

There goes that idea. 

You hold him closer, and smirk at the contented sigh that leaves him. 

“I think… I think I just imprinted on you.” 

It startles a laugh out of you, and he chuckles too, a tiny happy sound against your collar bone. You turn to kiss his heated cheek, and he lets you, before he turns his own head to fuse his lips to yours. 

This kiss is lazy, unhurried, and the adrenaline from making him fall apart is slowly making way for more of that sticky-sweet arousal from earlier. 

“I wanna make you come,” he mumbles against your lips. 

You shake your head, but kiss him some more, as to not give him the wrong idea. 

“Another night, Pretty Boy.”

He makes a disappointed sound, but continues to kiss you until you have to part for air. His brow is turned upward in question when you pull away. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his question. 

“Not a single thing, Frankie. Just wanted to take care of you tonight.” 

His shoulders relax at that, but his face is still confused. It’s a cute look on him, with his pouty lips and big brown eyes. 

“You’d tell me right? If I made you uncomfortable? You can tell me. I don’t wanna upset you.” 

And christ, you feel your heart melting and oozing through your rib cage at how earnest his voice is. 

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

That seems to quell his nerves, as he sinks back into you again with his sweaty curls pressed against your shoulder. 

You’re sticky in more ways than one, and Frankie’s only getting heavier in your lap the sleepier he gets, but a giggle bubbles up out of you when you realize you’ve never been more comfortable than you are right now. 

Frankie huffs in response, and you press him even tighter against you. 

You don’t know where one-and-a-half dates and one sickeningly hot orgasm places the two of you. And maybe it’s greedy to think about with a handsome, sweet man in your arms, but you can’t push down the overwhelming feeling of wanting more.

next part

[daechwitatamic]

VI. Don't Think About Him || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You try - and fail - to figure out who and what you want.

Section Warnings: excessive drinking, bar scenes, language, kissing, groping, maybe grinding idk

WC: 6k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sunday October 28th

Fire burns low in the hearth, but my feet itch and beg to go, into the night where the wolfpack hunts, into the storm of wind and snow.

I can hear only their hunting song. The blizzard steals from me my sight. I have no map to traverse this land, But I peer wistfully into the night.

The wolves, the storm, the wild land, Even still I must decide. I know despite the dangers, I can’t afford to stay inside.

“That’s fucking terrible,” you mutter, closing your book and scooting it away from you in disgust. “Wolves? Am I fourteen? For fuck’s sake.”

Still, it does touch on how you feel: like proceeding forward will result in you getting ripped to metaphorical shreds - but staying here, stuck in the familiar just because you’ve deemed it safe, would somehow be worse.

“Talking to yourself?” someone asks, and you jump with a shriek. 

“Namjoon!” you scold, as you register that it’s him in the doorway. “I thought you weren’t home for a few more hours!”

He crosses the room and tosses his bag onto his bed. “Yoongi has a lead foot.”

“How was it?” you ask mildly.

Namjoon wiggles his head, indicating both good and bad. “The brewery was really fun,” he says. “And it was nice for us all to hang out and talk at the house. We all used to dorm together… it’s been weird not living in the same place as them. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

This makes you smile. You’d been to that dorm once or twice, but you’d refused to hang out with Taehyung there because… well, dudes are stinky. And you’re not a clean freak by any means, but it was a little gross over there. 

“Well it was lonely and boring here,” you report. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

You’re instantly unsure if that was too forward, too much. Namjoon going away the literal day after you’d kissed him had given you plenty of time to think in private, but it had also given you room to sow doubts in your own mind. But Namjoon smiles shyly, pleased, so cute it makes your toes wiggle.

“I’m glad to be back too,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower and unpack. Have you made plans for dinner yet? We could order later?”

You hadn’t, but you have a feeling Taehyung will want to hang out after two days away. “I have plans,” you lie, figuring it will end up being true. 

“Ah, no problem then,” Namjoon says easily, and heads into his room, closing the door behind him with a little wave. 

You text Taehyung - “welcome home!! dinner later?” - and get up to start some laundry. By the time it’s done washing, and drying, and you’ve folded it, he still hasn’t answered. 

You try again - “hello??? this is y/n, looking for signs of life???”

This time, the response is almost immediate. 

[4:56 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: sorry [4:56 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: can’t tonight

In the end, you walk to campus alone, eating by yourself in the far corner of the cafeteria. You’ve splurged on ordering too much lately when these meals are built into your tuition. Besides, you don’t want Namjoon to know that your “plans” fell through. 

Friday November 2nd

Angel on the right… Devil on the left… 

You look side to side, conflicted. Such a strong case for each. 

“Are those for tonight?”

You jump, spinning away from the two Halloween costumes you’ve laid out on your bed. It’s not like Namjoon to come over to your side of the apartment; in fact, you’re not sure he’s ever talked to you while you’re in your own room. It’s usually you going over to his door to bother him, if you aren't both in the living room or kitchen. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I can’t decide. You’re coming?”

“I think we all are, except Yoongi,” Namjoon tells you. “I’m going as a detective. I have a magnifying glass and everything.”

You laugh. “I can’t wait to see that. Any thoughts on which way I should go tonight?” You mean the costumes. You’d texted Taehyung for his opinion and he’d returned with, “flip a coin”. You’re not sure why you expected anything else from him. 

“I think that’s going to depend on your mood,” Namjoon teases. “How are we feeling today? Naughty or nice?”

You raise your eyebrows. Was that… outright flirtation? “What if I’m feeling both?” you ask.

He laughs. “You need one of those half-and-half costumes. I’ve seen them in the stores.”

You have too, but you think they’re cheesy. “I think I’ll go devil,” you muse, a finger on your lips as you consider. “The angel wings are pretty cumbersome. And the bars are going to be slammed.”

“Naughty it is.” Namjoon flashes you a grin and disappears from your doorway, throwing over his shoulder, “No complaints from me!”

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the giggle. Well this is new, and damn, you want to keep playing. 

You Uber together to the first bar of the town’s Halloween pub crawl, the guys waiting for you outside. Taehyung howls in laughter at Namjoon’s long coat, fedora, and magnifying glass. 

“I see the devil won the coin toss,” he says to you, grinning.

You roll your eyes, still a little peeved that he couldn’t take anything seriously, even when you needed him to. This was a trivial thing, but still. It wasn’t a lot to ask.

Jungkook hands you and Namjoon a flyer with a QR code - it listed the locations of each bar and what time the group would move, in case you got lost or missed the exodus. Inside, you have to pay to get wristbanded, but the wristband earns you special prices at each of the stops. 

“This does not go with my costume,” you pretend to pout, the bright yellow wristband glaring against your short, red dress.

“I think everyone will understand,” Namjoon teases. Taehyung appears on your other side, pointing out the little laminated sign that advertises this bar’s drink specials. 

“You two need to catch up,” he insists.

Three hours and two bars later, you think you’ve achieved this. You and Taehyung cling to each other’s arms, holding each other up, somehow taking turns being the one who needs help staying upright. The first two bars had offered specials on shots, but this one only has special offers for mixed drinks and beer. 

“Do we pay full price for shots, or do we let The Man tell us it’s time to settle down?” you muse loudly into Taehyung’s ear.

“Don’t start with that shit,” he tells you. “This is Halloween, not a hippie convention.”

“I see at least four hippies,” you sniff indignantly.

“I think you’re seeing double,” he counters. “No more shots for you.”

“You aren’t in charge of me!” you yell, and head for the bar at a clip, ankles crying for mercy in your heels. You grasp the bar in both hands when you get there, steady yourself, and then reach up to fix your horn headband, which had been starting to slide. You thought Taehyung was right behind you, but when you turn to look, he’s talking to a girl in a mermaid costume. 

Of course.

It’s fine.

The bartender finally catches your eye and you flash your wristband, indicating you’ll take the special. He nods, turns and picks up a bottle. A body settles beside you; you turn, expecting that Taehyung caught up, or maybe Jungkook stopped by for a beer. Instead, a guy you’ve never seen before smiles at you. 

He’s in scrubs, complete with a fake stethoscope (you think it’s fake, anyway) slung around his neck. His nametag reads Dr. Love. You laugh out loud. “That’s so corny,” you say, your filter well and gone for the night.

Luckily, he laughs too. “It’s sewed on!” he protests. “I honestly almost Sharpied it out, but I thought that would look even stupider.” 

He’s really cute, you notice. He looks… clean. Older. 

“You look…” he trails off, letting his eyes roam to your feet and back appreciatively, “phenomenal. Is there an angel wandering around here looking for you?”

You grin. “Just me.”

If Kim Taehyung can find a hookup everywhere he goes, why can’t you?

But as you lean against the bar and take a sip of your drink, your eyes scan the bar before you. In the mirrored wall behind the team of bartenders, you can see a slightly distorted view of the patrons and all of their costumes. 

Your eye catches on a detective. 

Namjoon’s eyes hold yours through the mirror, though he’s about six seats down from you. There’s a tiny smile on his lips as he sips at what looks like a beer. A smile that says maybe he should have expected this. It’s the same face he’s seen on you when Taehyung does exactly what he did tonight. 

Beside you, Dr. Love is asking you something, but you don’t hear him at all. You don’t want to be here, in this spot, anymore. You want to be six seats over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, interrupting him, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on your face. “I just found one of my friends, and I’d lost them. Enjoy your night, though!”

You slip away before he can protest more than a syllable, before you can really register the disappointment on his face and feel guilty about it. Better luck next time, Doctor, you think, as you make your way to Namjoon.

As soon as you’re close enough he extends an arm, making a space for you right next to him. His arm tucks you closer, protective. He walks with you towards the far end of the bar, where it’s marginally less crowded. Once you settle into a spot there, he doesn’t remove his arm. His fingers rest on your bare, body-glittered shoulder, moving imperceptibly now and then, as if they have their own agenda. 

“Are you having fun?” you ask him. 

“Loud bars aren’t usually my thing,” he answers. “But the costumes are great.”

There’s a lot of alcohol in your system; your filter’s taken a hit. “I like this,” you sigh happily, closing your eyes for a second. You think you sway on your feet a little. The arm around your shoulders tightens.

“Like what?” His voice has gone deep, and you shiver a little. You want to kiss him again; you’d blame the shots but you’ve been thinking about it since it happened. The drinks just make it louder.

“Your arm around me,” you tell him honestly, and he ducks his head, dimples appearing along with a blush.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re drunk,” he accuses playfully.

“It’s a Halloween pub crawl,” you point out flatly. “I’m supposed to be drunk.”

“That’s a fair point,” he allows. Then, he peers at you through squinted eyes. “Are you okay, though? How drunk are you?”

You consider this. “Drunk enough that I want to kiss you again, to hell with the consequences. Not too drunk to remember that there would be consequences.”

The playfulness leaves his face; it’s too obvious not to notice. “Consequences like what?”

It’s a challenge. He knows you know it.

“Namjoon,” you say, a little pleading. Don’t. 

“Consequences like Taehyung would see?” he presses. His voice has gone hard. He’s tiptoed around this issue before, but it’s the first time either of you have ever really given it life.

You feel like you want to cry. “Are you mad? About Taehyung?”

He softens. His fingers brush your shoulder again, absently. “No,” he admits, deflated. “No, I guess I’m not. But we both know that’s what you meant.” He removes his arm from your shoulders. It hangs listlessly at his side. You feel its absence painfully, like it had kept you tethered and now you might float away.

“Hey,” you say sharply, and reach for his hand. You miss and get his wrist, but you hold it like your life depends on it. He looks at you curiously. “I like you,” you tell him firmly. “A lot. I’m trying not to mess everything up - with anyone. But he’s my family, and if I lose him…” You take a deep gulp of air, trying to will your pulse to calm, your stomach to settle, your eyes to clear of stupid tears. “I have no one left. It feels… delicate,” you finish finally. You need him to understand. You wish you were better at explaining.

Namjoon twists his wrist from your grasp gently, but takes your fingers in his. “What about me?” he asks, voice a little pouty. “We aren’t delicate?”

You smile at him, relief giving you more of a high than anything else could right now. “No,” you say, and touch his chest lightly, just over his beating heart. You brush your hand down his chest, drop it to your side, and turn to stare out at the crowd. “No,” you say again, finishing the thought. “You aren’t delicate at all. You’re steady. That’s something I really like about you.”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between you, tension building like a bassline, and then he gives a tug to the hand he’s holding. You turn back to look at him.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asks plaintively. 

You open your mouth immediately to answer, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t think about him when you answer that,” he commands seriously, fingers clutching yours so tightly it almost hurts. “Don’t think about anything else but you and me. What do you want?”

What do you want?

“I…” you start feebly, unsure how you’ll even finish the sentence. “I want…”

Jimin rushes up to you, breathless, grabbing both of your arms. Namjoon drops your hand like it’s burned him. If Jimin notices, he doesn’t let on. 

“We have to go,” he pants. “Literally right now. Jungkook hit on some huge guy’s girlfriend, it’s about to be a thing. Help me find everybody?”

“Where are they?” Namjoon asks, quickly setting his beer glass on the bar and reaching for your drink too. You let him take it, eyes wide. 

“Taehyung grabbed Jungkook and ran - I think they’re outside. Have you seen Hobi? Or Jin?”

“Jin left with a girl two bars ago,” you supply, glad to be able to help. 

“I see Hobi,” Namjoon says, craning his neck to scan the crowd. “I’ll go get him. Y/N, go with Jimin, we’ll meet up outside.”

He moves without waiting for an answer, wading through the crowd in what must be Hobi’s direction. Jimin takes you by the hand - it feels much different than it had felt a minute ago with Namjoon - and leads you through the crowd hurriedly, dodging people left and right. You look over your shoulder as he pulls you, trying to find Namjoon in the sea of people, but you can’t.

Outside, Jungkook seems to be arguing heatedly with the bouncer. 

“Come on,” Taehyung is telling him, looking honestly pissed. “Let’s just go. The night’s already ruined, let’s just leave.”

You pull away from Jimin and head for Taehyung. 

“Hey,” you say softly, resting a hand on his arm. He turns on you, still furious, but you don’t waver. “Take a breath,” you tell him softly. 

His temper gets the best of him sometimes. 

He shakes his head, angry, but you see his chest move as he obeys anyway. A second later he says, more calmly, “Come on, Jungkook, we can even go somewhere else if you want. We won’t have fun here, that guy’s friends are all worked up in there.”

Jungkook relents as Hobi and Namjoon join you on the sidewalk. You slide your hand off of Taehyung’s arm, feeling weirdly guilty. 

“We rallying?” Hobi asks hopefully. “Or did we kill the buzz?”

“Rally!” Jimin cheers, going over and shaking a sullen Jungkook’s shoulder. “Come on! The night prevails!”

“I’ll go somewhere else,” Taehyung says. 

“I think I’m done,” Namjoon says, glancing at his phone for the time. “I’ll Uber from here.”

“Y/N?” Taehyung asks, looking to you. For a second, you’re not sure why. Then you realize - you either have to Uber home with Namjoon, or opt to continue on with the rest of the guys. 

The angel whispers that you haven’t hung out with Taehyung as much lately. 

The devil whispers that you and Namjoon could be all alone.

0-2 for the angels tonight.

“I’m tired,” you say. “I’ll Uber with Namjoon. You guys have fun though. JK, try to keep it in your pants.”

He flips you off wordlessly, still sulking. 

They all tell you goodbye, Taehyung giving you an extra-tight squeeze with his hug, and they walk down the block to find another bar. You turn to Namjoon, who’s tapping at his phone to order a ride. 

What do you want? His question floats in your head. 

You don’t know. You want too much, too many things, too many contradictions. 

It seems like Namjoon knows, and forgives you. He silently holds out a hand, waiting. You take it, keeping it tight in yours, not letting go even as you slide into the backseat of the Uber, as it weaves through the neighborhoods until it stops in front of your building, as it drives away, leaving you lit in red taillights before vanishing around the corner.

You’re standing on the sidewalk in front of your building’s front door, Namjoon’s hand in yours, your eyes sleepy but your pulse racing. 

He tugs you towards the stairs, and you think he’s going to lead you inside. Instead he spins you and presses you back against the stone balustrade, one hand splayed across the middle of your spine, the other cupping your jaw as he kisses you insistently.

You open immediately for him, giving a happy noise low in your throat. His spare hand, the one not holding you up off the rough stone below, grips the back of your neck for the barest of seconds before continuing down - rubbing patterns past your shoulder blade, the middle of your back, down to the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip, the meat of your ass. He’d better appreciate every curve, you squeezed into spanx for this dress. 

You grip at the lapels of his ridiculous detective coat, the earth spinning in circles around you in a blur. You’re aware of only where your hands bunch the fabric, of only where his teeth and lips and tongue clash with yours, of only the fiery path his hand traces up and down your body. You melt into his touch, wanting more, trying to pull him closer, trying to get lost in each sensation.

He breaks the kiss to nip a line of sharp nibbles down your neck. You whine, trying to give him more room. His hands come to rest on your ribcage, thumbs not quite reaching your chest, which has to be a conscious decision on his part. You can feel the cold night air on your thighs; your dress has ridden up. This snaps you out of the moment a little. 

“Namjoon,” you murmur, but it comes out a little whiny as he continues to nibble down near the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “We should go inside.”

He stills, then pulls away, eyes seeking yours for any signs of discontent. “Yeah,” he says finally, one syllable all he can handle. “Come on.”

He releases your body gently, letting you find your balance on the pavement. Then, he leads you up the stairs and inside. In the threshold of the apartment, you look at him, a question on your face.

“We’re both really drunk,” he says apologetically, reaching out to brush some stray hairs away from your face. “We should probably cool down a little.”

He’s right - you know he’s right. 

“Yeah,” you say, letting the front door close behind you. “Okay.”

You press one palm against the wall for balance as you fight with your shoes, sliding them off one at a time. 

Namjoon’s in his room, but the door hangs open. You pause in the doorway of your bedroom, realizing you have a problem.

“Um, hey,” you call across the living room, and he takes a few steps to come look at you. He’s lost the hat and the long coat, and his button-down is undone, revealing a tight, white undershirt beneath. “I promise this isn’t a come-on,” you say, biting back a smile. “But I legitimately can’t reach the zipper on this. Can you-?”

“Of course,” he says, crossing the living room. You turn your back to him, presenting the zipper. He gently sweeps your hair off of your nape and places it over your shoulder. You shiver, goosebumps rising along your arms, and you hear him hum a pleased noise at your reaction. You feel him fumble with the hook-and-eye at the top, and then the zipper sounds. He pauses halfway down your back.

“That good?” he checks. “You can reach that?”

“Yes,” you say, turning back to face him. He’s still got a bit of your lipstick on his mouth, and it makes you have to fight off a smirk. Down, girl. “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

He looks at you for a long minute, expression unreadable. Finally, he says, “Goodnight,” and steps back out into the darkness of the living room. When he gets to his room this time, he closes the door behind him with a soft click. You stare at the inch of light that comes from under his door for a minute before hurrying to close your own door against the dark.

Sunday November 4th

You spend most of Saturday in bed, heart and head both pounding, which means you have a lot of homework to cram in on Sunday.

After you shower and eat, you set up in the living room to get some work done. Namjoon’s door is halfway open, and you can hear the clacking and bass thumps that mean he’s writing in there. 

Midafternoon, he appears in his doorway, stretching widely. Your eyes skim the inch of stomach exposed with the stretch and then flick back to your page before he can catch you. 

“How’s it going?” he asks, heading into the kitchen. 

You twist your mouth, eyeing your laptop and the text spread open on your lap. “I guess it’s going. Sort of.” 

“What are you working on?” he asks.

“A paper for one of the bullshit general classes,” you tell him. “Which makes it more challenging, because I deeply do not care.”

He laughs at this, then plops onto the couch a few feet away from you, a water bottle in his hands. 

“How about you?” you ask. “It sounded like it was going well.”

“It was going okay,” he agrees. “I reached the end of a scene, so now I need to like… process, look at what’s coming next. I might take a short walk and let it marinate in my brain a little.”

You smile. “How come you never work out here?” you ask him, just curious. 

He gives a quick, self-deprecating laugh. “I wouldn’t get anything done. I’d just talk to you.”

You flush, feeling your face heat up, and bite back a smile. “What if I refused to answer?” you offer. “I could just sit here like -.” You mime zipping your lips, still fighting a smile. For good measure, you lock it up and throw the key over your shoulder.

His smile grows. “Wouldn’t help. I’d still be able to look at you.”

Your blush intensifies; you’re tempted to go stick your head in the freezer to cool your cheeks down. “I’ll turn around, then,” you tell him.

His grin turns wolfish. “I assure you, that will not solve the problem.”

Your jaw drops. “Kim Namjoon!” you scold, but you’re giggling.

“I’m just being honest!” he defends, laughing deeply, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Anyway, why? Does it bother you that I stay in there?”

“No,” you say immediately. “You can do what you want.”

He gives you a knowing look, like he’s used to your bullshit and isn’t falling for it. When did that happen? “Don’t get prickly,” he warns. 

“Don’t compare me to plants,” you grumble. 

“Do you want me to work out here instead?” he asks gently, smiling at you like you’re adorable, which just sets your prickliness off even more.

“I don’t know what I want,” you retort.

There’s a long, stretchy silence as you both consider just how true those words are, on several different levels. 

Finally, Namjoon gives you a nod in goodbye and heads back to his room. 

This time, he closes the door gently behind him.

–

Taehyung invites you out that night, to see a movie you’d been talking about. You tell him yes, as long as you can go to the earlier showing. But then you start to feel… guilty. Unsure.

You want to ask Namjoon if he cares if you hang out with Taehyung still. He’s bothered by some aspect of your friendship, obviously, but you don’t know what it is. Is it only the fact that Taehyung is a bit of a barrier for you two? Or is he threatened by the whole friendship? 

You lay sideways across your bed in the fading late afternoon light, considering this. You imagine asking Namjoon. You think his answer would probably be, do what you want, I’m not your boyfriend. 

Which, fair. That conversation needs to come first. Are you together, do either of you even really want that? 

In the end, you don’t bring it up. When it’s time, you do your best to sneak out of the apartment, hoping to avoid any conversation about it at all.

Taehyung’s car idles on the street below, and you let yourself in the passenger side and buckle up. You’re anxious, you realize, as Taehyung starts complaining about an argument he had with Jimin back at their place. You’re afraid he’ll ask something that will lead the conversation to Namjoon, afraid that he’ll catch you tripping up, clue in that there’s something worth his attention there. 

You can’t lie to him. He knows this as well as you do.

That’s why he never asks you questions he doesn’t really want the answers to.

You’re anxious for nothing, because Taehyung talks about his own shit for the whole drive to the movies, and the whole time you’re in line for snacks, and for the whole time before the movie starts as you sit in the back row of the theater munching on overpriced popcorn.

But the movie is good, and you get pulled into the fictional world, and when the lights come on you find Taehyung’s arm casually over the back of your seat. You hadn’t even noticed it was there. 

“I can’t believe Jimin wouldn’t come see this,” Taehyung scoffs as you file out of the theater and back to the lobby. “That was so good! Just because he doesn’t like that one actor?”

You’re curious if Taehyung would have still asked you to join him tonight if Jimin hadn’t turned him down first. 

But, like Taehyung, you don’t ask questions if you aren’t prepared to hear the truth. So you don’t ask. What would be the point?

You wonder during the drive home if you’d feel better talking to Taehyung about what was going on with you if the guy in question wasn’t his friend.

Maybe.

But only a little better.

Monday November 5th 

Unlike the Monday before, Namjoon leaves for campus without you on Monday morning. You aren’t sure if he’s upset with you, or if he just needed to be there early. You’re too cowardly to ask. 

You need some support.

If it’s not coming from your “best friend”, you’ll have to outsource. 

You trudge through your morning class, eat as fast as you can - alone - in the cafeteria, and head to the student center. You get to the store well before your shift starts. 

You aren’t allowed to clock in yet, so you kill some time doing reading for class in the stock room. The second your shift starts, you’re at the front registers, uncomfortably close to Kris’s personal bubble.

“Yes?” they ask you archly, eyeing your proximity suspiciously. 

“I… have a confession to make,” you say, your voice as quiet as you can make it. You’re barely moving your mouth, you’re trying so hard to not actually say these words. “There… has been… perhaps… some kissing.”

Kris is stunned into silence for the first time since you’ve known them. Eyes wide and jaw slack, they stare at you. Then, they clarify loudly, “By you?”

You growl in exasperation. “Don’t be cute.”

Kris beams. “Can’t help it, it’s ingrained in my DNA.”

“I need you to be just a tiny bit serious,” you tell them, “because I am having a full-blown crisis.”

Kris sobers instantly. “Wait,” they whisper. “Crisis? Explain.”

“I kissed…” you cast your eyes around the bookstore, making sure no one’s lurking, “...the one I live with.”

Kris gasps. “You did not! You kissed him? Not the other way around?”

“I did,” you admit, feeling yourself flush again. “Twice. Well, the second time he started it, if you want to get technical.”

“I do want to get technical,” Kris whispers, voice almost reverent. “I can’t fucking believe this. So, why the crisis?”

You take a deep breath. Which factor to start with? Because you don’t want to give up on Taehyung yet? Because you don’t want to risk altering that friendship beyond repair? Because you don’t know if Namjoon will be able to handle your best friend being a guy - a guy that you’ve had feelings for?

“Because I don’t know what I want,” you say, the simplest truth. “I can’t get my head straight.”

Kris cocks their head. “If you didn’t know Taehyung - if you removed him completely from the situation -.”

“Impossible,” you protest.

They hold up a finger to silence you. “If you removed him from the situation,” they continue over you, “would you want to pursue things with Namjoon?”

Guilt hits you like an ocean wave, tugging you down, down, down. “Yes,” you whisper, because that part is just true. There’s no wiggle room, no if’s. You like him. You want to see where it will go. If there were no chance of losing Taehyung in the mix, it wouldn’t be a question at all.

“Y/N,” Kris says insistently, leaning towards you. “You are not doing anything wrong here. Taehyung is your friend. Nothing else - and that’s his fault. You aren’t, like, betraying him by catching feelings for someone else. He can’t expect you to sit around waiting for him until you die!”

“He doesn’t expect that,” you say, still in a whisper, because suddenly your throat is tight in that way it gets when you’re upset. 

“You need to talk to Taehyung,” Kris tells you gently. You groan. “And the conversation should not be you asking for permission, either!” they continue, impassioned. “You need to tell him I’m seeing someone and you need to be okay with it.”

“But they’re friends,” you protest. “It’s so messy. I’ve never had messy before.”

“You’ve never had anything before,” Kris points out.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble. “Yes I have.”

“Nothing that mattered,” they correct. “Nothing with feelings.”

You slump onto the counter. “I hate this.”

“I’m telling you,” Kris says airily. “If you don’t talk to them, this is all going to blow up in your face. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

“Why do you have to be right all the time,” you complain. Kris smiles beatifically.  

When your shifts ends, your feet take you not towards home, but towards the academic building where Namjoon’s “office” is. 

You’re thinking about your conversation about Kris; you’re thinking about the idea of fairness. 

It isn’t fair, as Kris said, for Taehyung to expect you to wait indefinitely for something that was probably never coming, to hold you emotionally hostage.

It isn’t fair for you to do the same thing to Namjoon - to keep him waiting, wondering, unsure if you’ll ever be completely in it. You know that’s the reason things have kept progressing so slowly between you. You’ve felt guilty letting it get any further, felt afraid of those damn consequences. And if you had to bet, Namjoon has been trying to wait for you to sort it out, to make the choice - to choose him. 

You can hear the low tones of his voice as you approach down the quiet hallway. Only the staff are normally back here, sometimes one or two students who need to speak to a professor, so there’s not a lot of foot traffic. 

You linger in the hallway, leaning against the wall and messing around on your phone, far enough away to not be able to tell what Namjoon and the student are discussing. When the student - a young guy who looks absolutely dejected as he passes by you - exits, you slip past him and lean against the doorway. Namjoon doesn’t notice you right away. It’s clear that his hours have ended and he’s packing up his stuff. When he does notice a body in the doorway, he jumps, inhaling sharply in alarm.

He slumps against the back of the chair when he registers that it’s you.

“I’m usually the jumpy one,” you giggle. 

He gives you a sideways smile as he leaves over his bag on the floor, messing with the clasp. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else. What are you - I mean, what’s up?” 

“What am I doing here?” you tease, catching his slip. You feel a little nervous, but you’re determined to do this correctly, to treat him better. “I came to see if you wanted to walk back together.”

Namjoon goes a little still, and you hurry to add, “It’s okay if you don’t! It didn’t make my walk longer or anything to come here first. I just thought I’d check.”

He lets you babble. He does as he’s been doing since the beginning - he waits you out with a patient smile. 

“So…” you finally finish, the nerves fluttering and hopping around your stomach. “Do you? Want to walk back with me?”

He stands, lifting his bag from the ground and hoisting it onto his shoulder. “Yes,” he says simply, giving you a tiny smile. 

You follow him down the narrow hallway, back down the stairs you’d climbed a minute ago, and outside. It’s a nice day - bright and sunny, chilly but not freezing. Campus is busy, and you have to people-dodge a little as you cross the main section, the crossroads of the two main paths. 

The second you cross through the front gate and step onto the city sidewalk on the other side, Namjoon silently reaches for your hand. It’s different from last time, in the rain - not urgent, not pulling. It’s gentle and tentative and, weirdly, somehow sensual the way his thumb runs over your knuckles as he glances sideways at you to see if you’re okay with this.

You give his fingers a tiny squeeze.

You walk together in silence for a few minutes, and then Namjoon asks you quietly. “How was your day? You had class this morning? Was it for Thesis?”

You smile up at him, happy to have someone to talk to about this. Kris would listen, you’re sure, because Kris is a good human, but they would much rather talk about romance. And Taehyung… it’s November, and Taehyung has asked you about your classes or your thesis exactly zero times. 

“No, not for my thesis,” you tell him. “Just a regular lit class. It was okay! I was so tired, I could barely stay awake… I think I’m still recovering from the weekend.”

He laughs. “Can’t imagine why,” he teases, voice going a little deeper. “I’m sure you were a perfect angel all weekend long.”

The joke - that you’d dressed as a devil - is not lost on you, and you grin up at him. “Clever,” you say.

He beams back, proud. “Sometimes,” he allows.

“How about you?” you ask. “Did you have class before your TA hours?”

“Yep,” he says, nodding. “Unfortunately, it was a research-based class.”

You groan in sympathy. “First thing on a Monday morning? Fucking ouch.”

“Tell me about it,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m not much of a napper, but damn, I could use a nap.”

At the apartment, you decide to watch a show you’re in the middle of, and you settle on the couch with a throw-blanket over your legs. Namjoon appears in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at you a little balefully.

“Can I… do you mind if I read out here?” he asks.

You scramble to sit up a little making room on the other side of the couch. “You don’t need to ask,” you say, a little appalled that he’d felt the need. “You live here! I never mind, I promise.”

Appeased, he makes his way over and gets comfortable on the other side of the couch. It occurs to you that this is how you and Taehyung usually spend your time - on opposite ends of the couch - but you shove the thought away. 

You glance at him now and then as your show plays, and a few times you think you catch him watching more than reading. In between episodes, you notice his book face-down on his chest, rising and falling in deep, even motions. His head leans back against the arm of the couch, and his eyelids flutter as he dreams. 

Smiling a tiny smile, you fluff your blanket to cover his legs, and press play for the next episode.

<- Prev || Next ->

Thank you so much for being here!!!!! What did we think of what I lovingly call "the Halloween Pub Crawl Fiasco"?!

Section VII will drop on Friday, February 24th! I hope to see you there!!

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

The text connecting Chris and Jill is “戦友” or “kanyuu” which translates to “commrade in arms; war buddy”.?

in the Revelation's bio for Chris, they called him Jill's Brother-in-arms.?

So they don't have feelings for each other?

https://www.tumblr.com/chirikalovesjill/34500920927/where-did-this-picture-come-from-please-anyone

Hello Anon! I want to start off by saying that it's okay if you don't ship Chris and Jill romantically - not everyone does. I mentioned in a previous post how I can certainly see how others would only view their relationship as platonic or coworkers. Unfortunately, the link in your question does not work so I'm sorry I can't respond to that in particular. And I am not trying to sow any discontent or attacking, I'm merely responding and enjoying my preferred ship. I hope you can understand. If we can all stay positive and respectful that would be greatly appreciated. ^_^ Chris and Jill have been fighting BOW's since the very first game. Actual canon is that they survived through the whole mansion together. They've always protected each other. So 'comrade in arms', 'war buddy, 'brother-in-arms', 'partner', 'bestest friend', 'kindred spirits', 'love of my life' are all titles they would/could use to address each other.

Also, in RE1 original, Chris and Jill were written to be romantically interested in each other. In a recent interview, the live-action actor for RE1 Chris stated that he wanted to remain as respectful as possible to Jill's actress as she was much younger than him and he knew they were supposed to be romantically linked in the story. Source: ROE Plays RESIDENT EVIL 1 w/ Original Chris Redfield (Charlie Kraslavsky)

And this cute song that plays when they are reunited: Long Lost Friend Long Lost Friend Revisited - I love how bittersweet this is, very fitting In my mind, there is definitely some romantic sweetness to this song. But Capcom likes to keep them ambiguous or seems to want to retcon them, so I don't know. Ship them or don't. Doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. I just like how mature their relationship seems - built on lasting trust and respect. Even in Death Island there were ambiguous hints of something more between them. Like, Chris staring at a smiling Jill, backlit by a beautiful setting sun, seems kind of romantic to me. ... Only to fist bump her seconds later. Guess he wanted to keep it professional and clean in front of his sister XD

Before I got into Resident Evil (Biohazard), I never really knew about any 'ships'. I had vague memories of RE2 (Cleon bby) and RE5 (my unknowing teenage self actually shipped Sheva and Chris!), but it wasn't until I actually replayed the games as an adult and explored more of the extended lore that I became a Valenfield fan (and unexpectedly, less of a Cleon shipper). And what cemented it for me even more was the supplemental RE5 guide translations!

I highly recommend any Valenfield shipper to read it here. (scroll down a little more than half way on the page to find the STORY section. It's after the different colored text timeline.)

Some quotes from this official guide book:

... Referred to as "the BSAA's ace", Chris has a brilliant track record preventing many bioterror attacks, but Chris' chest is filled with an indescribable emptiness. Many comrades have been sacrificed to repair the errors of fools. Even if the world's saved, these friends will never return. He had lost his irreplaceable former partner. ...

... Chris has nothing against having a female partner. In fact, the partner he regarded as irreplaceable was a female too. She's the perfect person whom Chris can totally trust and rely on, someone whom he believes is what he needed to complete any mission. Chris felt their teamwork was like an eagle able to escape from biohazardous danger. ...

... Chris is staring intently at a statue of a sleeping beauty. He's like a person looking at his lover through a mirror, where the other side of the mirror's a different dimension. ... The image displayed on the PDA screen issued by the BSAA isn't very good quality. The faint face is illuminated by a weak light, ... Despite that, Chris is able to recognise the person. He's been chasing this lead all the while, just so he can repair the missing piece of his heart. This can't be a mistake, nor an illusion. This is a fact. ... It's Jill, his old partner who sacrificed herself and jumped off a cliff in order to save Chris. Due to Jill's absence ever since, the BSAA have removed her from duty. But two years later, there's finally a sign that shows she may be alive after all, and this sign's appearing right in front of her partner who refuses to believe she's dead. The reason why Chris, who was from BSAA North American branch, was hoping to join this operation within Kijuju, was because he'd obtained some sort of lead leaked by Irving on the black market while he was looking for Jill. ...

... Jill, with her antibodies, has been administered P30--- Gifted with superhuman abilities, she's been given a powerful drug that controls her mind too. This evil drug is continuously injected into her body, torturing her to no end. Just as Wesker intended, Jill's receiving hell-like suffering. "I'm begging you, kill me!" ... Wesker's instruction to Jill before he leaves, which is to kill Chris who has finally come for her, plays mercilessly in her mind like an echo. The painful, unbearable order's destroying Jill mentally, and she's begging with her mind for her old partner, Chris, to end her suffering. "Don't worry about me! If this goes on I'll only end up killing both of you! Shoot me, please!" Despite that, Chris refuses to give up. Chris screams like a beast at the brainwashed Jill. He promises that even if it means giving up his life, he's going to free his partner with whom he has finally reunited, from her curse.

But again, I believe Capcom will keep their relationship more ambiguous and open to interpretation - I think they want to keep all potential shippers content. And they certainly seem to be moving towards a more 'just a good friend/co-worker' angle than before.

Which, in my opinion, cheapens the over arcing story (RE1 - 5) and relationship - but that's for another post to ramble about, I suppose.

No hard feelings if you're not a Valenfield shipper. They have a good friendship and I can totally understand if people only see them as that and nothing more.

[deliwrites]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕊𝕝𝕦𝕥 // 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 // Dream Team

// DATE // 26th of October 2022 // PAIRING // DreamTeam x fem!Reader, george x fem!reader, sapnap x fem!reader, dream x fem!reader // WARNING // flirty!reader, ACTUAL NSFW PICS(sensored, tried to very in body types, it was hard to find tho), Phone masturbation, use of real names, tease!reader, playgirl(ish)!reader, sexting // WORDS // 2,5k+ // SUMMARY // George is in America, so the teasing begins as you wait impatiently for your visa. // SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

George had just met up with Nick in Orlando. But I couldn't let him off so easily for leaving me. I know I was being petty. I just love teasing them. And with George far away as well, that just made it all the easier.

When I teased him before, there would be consequences. He would keep the punishments for when we met in real life. I wouldn't lie, I enjoyed the punishments every time.

But now, there are no consequences. I left the texts at that for now. Leaving him to wait in anticipation.

It was dinner time, so I strut into the kitchen. Waiting patiently for one of them to call me. They promised they would once they had all met up. While in the middle of mixing pancake batter, my phone started ringing.

💚 Clay 💚

Clay was calling me. With a giddy smile, I pick up. Turning on my cam for them.

"Hey, cuties!" I call out. Setting up my phone, so I could continue mixing the batter.

"Hey Y/n," the three of them call back.

"What are you wearing?" Nick sounds confused, making me stop mixing. Looking down at myself.

"I'm just wearing shorts and a crop top," I chuckle. "How does that confuse you? Do I not look cute?" I pout.

"You always look cute, Y/n/n," Clay says and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Clay," with a prideful smile I continue mixing.

"Whatcha making?" George asks.

"Pancakes, but let's stop talking about me," I stick out my tongue. "How was the meet-up? Tell me everything!"

"Well, first," George starts. "I got so lost in the airport," He chuckles, continuing his story, while I turn away from my phone for just a minute. Putting down the mixing bowl, I grab a ladle, placing it by the stove next to my phone.

"All you had to do was follow the signs, and you manage to get lost," Clay bullies George, I can picture him rolling his eyes. Though, I can't see it. My back is still facing my phone when I bend over. Shamelessly putting my ass on display for them, a tiny smirk playing on my lips. To my surprise, they stay silent as I grab the frying pan. Coming back up, I turned swiftly back to the stove. Wishing I knew what faces they were pulling right now.

"And then what?" I ask.

"Right, uhm, yes, then I got escorted by staff. They had heard that there would be a lot of commotion at the airport. So that was nice," George chuckles. "After getting my luggage, I found Nick. He had bought a stupid whiteboard-"

"Ha-ha-ha, at least I got something with your name written on it," Nick cuts him off. "But anyways, we then safely got to the car. Drove home, and I kid you not. These two were nervous as hell," he chuckles as the other two protest his claim. Making me giggle at the banter. Filling the heated pan with butter, waiting for it to melt.

"I think, I'll go ahead and believe Nick," I point my spatula at my phone, laughing cause I could already picture George looking offended. Clay probably too but I had no idea what he looked like.

"Clay was literally a bouncing ball in the house. He was nervous and excited," Nick continues. "George was nervous and very giddy."

"I'm not surprised," I smiled, pouring in the first amount of batter for the pancake. "I would be all of those, along with ... anxiety," I sing-song 'anxiety'. Chuckles coming from them.

"When you're finally here, we'll take care of you," Clay says reassuringly.

"God, I hope it's soon," George groans desperately. "Y/n, I need you here! I need you to keep me sane with these two."

"Excuse me!" Nick and Clay exclaim. Giggling, I put my first pancake on a plate. I listen to them fight it out as I put more batter in the pan. Then dressing up my pancake.

"I'm very impatiently waiting," I tell them, cutting into the 'fight'. "So impatiently, in fact, I may have packed a box or two already," I send them a grimace, before pouting. "I just wanna be there too," I whine softly.

"Soon," they promise me.

A week goes by. Sadly, still no visa for me. But in that week I got more than enough teasing in.

Y/n Hey Nick, you wanna see what I got? 👀 🧡 Nick 🧡 Of course, what did you get, darling Y/n 😈 I hope you're alone

What do you think of my new thigh highs? 🧡 Nick 🧡 🤤 Look at you, darling So gorgeous Y/n put them on just for you 🧡 Nick 🧡 Aren't you just the sweetest 😏 If only I wasn't currently walking through IKEA with the others. Y/n Have I caused a little problem? 😏 🧡 Nick 🧡 Yes, but I'm wearing sweats So, I'm in luck But I hope you know how much trouble you'll be in when you're here. Y/n Is that a threat or a promise 🥵 🧡 Nick 🧡 You naughty minx You'll figure it out soon enough

I was seriously getting so impatient. We would call every night, but now I didn't get to see any of them on cam. They would always be in the same room when they called me.

One night they were even spam-calling me while I was ... busy.

💚 Clay 💚 is calling

ignores call.

💙 Georgie 💙 is calling

groans in frustration ignoring the call.

🧡 Nick 🧡 is calling

Sighing audibly, I swipe away from the porn. Answer the call.

"STOP CALLING ME!" I yell down at the speaker. It's followed by silence from them. The room just filled with my panting and the sound of my vibrator. Very much actively vibrating inside me.

"Is- is that-"

"Yes!" I cut Clay off. "I'll call back later, let me fucking fuck myself please!" I whine, so fucking desperate for an orgasm. Having been chasing that high for the past 5 minutes they've been calling me.

"Uh- yes," George answers hanging up the phone, or at least, I think he does. With a sigh of relief, I pull the porn back up. Hand slipping back to my vibrator. Slamming it inside me with the thursts the male makes in the video.

It takes just 5 more minutes before I finally reach my high. Dropping my phone next to my head. Panting heavily, I twitch as I take the toy out. A squeak leaves my lips when it accidentally rubs against my clit.

"Shit, that was hot," my eyes widen at the unexpected voice. A voice I immediately recognize as Nick's.

"Are you serious," I mutter breathlessly. "You know what, fuck you guys, no call tonight," reaching for my phone, I ignore their protests. Hanging up the phone.

I can't believe they stayed and listened to me masturbate. If I had realised that would have been so much hotter. I wouldn't have even needed the porn. They could have talked me through it. Tell me what to do. I would even willingly turn on my cam. Show them exactly what I was up to.

I doubt they would agree with that tho, all together that is.

Y/n So, did you enjoy hearing me, last night? 🙄 💚 Clay 💚 Baby, hear me out I may have stopped George from hanging up I just couldn't pass up such an opportunity 😏 Y/n So you let the other two hear it too Maybe if you called me privately 💚 Clay 💚 Maybe what? Y/n Maybe I would have answered Let you listen to me 👀 💚 Clay 💚 God those pretty noises you make They are still playing on repeat in my head Y/n Yeah? 😏 Liked it that much? 💚 Clay 💚 How could I not? You are so gorgeous in every way Y/n What about this?

Am I gorgeous in this? 💚 Clay 💚 Is that new? Y/n It is 😊 It reminded me of you, so I bought it 💚 Clay 💚 It looks beautiful on you 🤤 Bring it Y/n I will 💚 Clay 💚 Good Cause I'm gonna fuck you in it 😈

In the next three weeks, I had multiple late-night calls with all three. Separately, sadly. I listened to their commands, masturbating to their wishes. Hearing them fap on the other side. It was honestly, so hot.

"Pull your shirt up," Nick would say. "Slowly, make them titties bounce."

"Awh, are you wearing those just for me?" George's voice is surprisingly deep. "Spread those thighs for me, love."

"Bounce that pretty ass for me, baby," Clay's voice sounds so raspy when says it. It sends delicious chills down my spine.

Finally

Fucking finally, my visa arrives.

7 weeks after George left for America. It's finally here. It arrives early in the morning. 9 am to be precise. It's literally midnight for them. Do I care? No, not really.

Midnight their time, I'm spam-calling the group chat.

"Answer the fucking phone, idiots!" They end up not answering. Huffing in frustration. I end up posting it to Twitter before they even find out. Of course, I first called my parents about the news. Mom was able to leave her job early. Lucky her for having a good bond with her boss. Dad sadly couldn't get off, but he would definitely be there tomorrow.

y/u/n - 1m The idiots wouldn't wake up. So you guys are the first to know. I GOT MY VISA!

Not long after I posted the tweet, mom arrives. She's come with empty boxes upon empty boxes. Even though I wasn't taking everything with me. For the next few hours, we are running through the house. Gathering the most important stuff that I needed to take. Clothes for at least a few days go into my suitcase, along with other necessities.

Mom spoke so lovely about this entire situation. I was kinda surprised. When I first told her about this plan she was very hesitant. She was worried for me, which I understood. I would be moving thousands of miles away. To live with three boys that I met on the internet. She had spoken to them before but for all we knew, that could all be fake.

But when she had gotten more used to the idea. Noticed how much fun I had with these boys. She started getting to know them herself. She obviously knew George, but Nick and Clay were an entirely different story. She basically did an entire background check on them. How you might ask. Well, when she came over months ago, we were baking a cake for dad's birthday. While we were busy, they ended up calling. I was going to decline, but she told me to answer them. I couldn't even get a word in before she went ahead. Introducing herself and immediately asking questions. It overwhelmed them a bit, but they too understood the concern. They promised her they would take good care of me. Which that helped my mom calm down from her own worries.

"Have you booked a flight yet, then?" she asks me. We were currently in my bedroom. Throwing clothes, either on the bed or into a suitcase. Mom was folding them neatly, while I decided which went where.

"No, not yet," I tell her. Throwing a beautiful sundress into my suitcase.

"Hun, you should wear it on the day of the flight," she says, taking the dress out of the suitcase. "You'll make them swoon," she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

"Mom!" I gasp, giggling at her actions. "They are just friends," she hums like she doesn't believe me. Putting the dress back on a hanger. She stands up and hangs it on the closet door.

"I still think you should wear it."

"Alright, I'll wear it," I give in with a fake annoyed sigh. "But, yeah, I haven't booked a flight yet. I need them to be awake for that. They need to be able to pick me up."

"And they still haven't called back yet?" she asks.

"No, they are probably stil-" my sentence is cut short when my phone starts to ring. My mom is quicker than me. Grabbing my phone from the bed. She answers the call, putting it on speaker.

"Well, good morning Nick, did you have a nice sleep?" she asks kindly, having read his name on the contact. Though I can't help but giggle. Already imagining the confused look on Nick's face.

"Good afternoon, Mrs y/l/n," Nick answers, soon followed by the same greeting from the other two.

"Oh, you're all here, how wonderful," Mom talks with delight. "Did you hear the news yet?"

"Ah, no, we just woke up," Clay answers.

"What the news," George asks curiously.

"Oh, George dear, it's so good to hear your voice," I palm my face, which she notices. "Anyways, my daughter dearest has finally received her visa."

"Really!?" Clay's voice is filled with disbelief but excitement.

"Yes, I can't believe you guys ignored my calls," I pout, not that they could see.

"We're sorry," Nick apologizes sincerely. "Who else have you told?"

"Twitter," my mom answers quickly. Almost rubbing in the disappointment she has on my behalf. George audibly sucks in a breath. "But it's alright, as long as you promise to take good care of my angel."

"We promise! 100%," Clay promises wholeheartedly. "Cros my heart and hope to die."

"Good," she says sternly. "Now, I'll give you my daughter. You guys can go discuss a flight," she hands me my phone, standing up from the bed. "I'll be in the kitchen making us some tea, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," I smile, sending her a kiss as she leaves.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, closing my bedroom door behind her. Taking the phone off speaker, I put it against my ear.

"Surprise," I tell them. The line is instantly filled with chaotic screams. They are talking over each other. Here and there I can catch onto a few sentences.

"George, go look up flights," Nick.

"Her room is not ready!" Clay exclaims.

"8pm flight?" George.

"Guys, calm down," I giggle. The screams slowly coming to a stop. "Look, I'm not packed. Mom is a big help and my suitcases are almost ready. But I still have my entire setup to pack and organize for safe shipping-"

"Don't worry about your setup," Clay cuts me off. "We'll get you a new one here."

"I- Clay, that's going to cost me a fortune."

"Y/n, I said we. It's going to be fine. All you have to worry about is the flight. Anything else that does not hold important value to you. We can buy here."

"I-," I huff a sigh, contemplating as I look around my room. "I need to go through more of my stuff first. Can I call you guys back at like, dinner time, my time?"

"Of course, take your time. We'll be one call away at any time-"

"Beside midnight for some reason," I cut Nick off, fake annoyance lacing my voice.

"We said we were sorry!" George says making me giggle.

"I know, I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Yes, good luck packing. If you have any questions on what you do or don't have to bring, just message us okay?"

"I will, see you soon," I grin before hanging up. A content sigh leaving my lips. It's finally happening.

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

// SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

[siyooungi]

hello! i've been reading some of your work recently and your writing is amazing!! could i request something with boa (which im so thankful anyone even writes for her) based on her song "kiss my lips"? you can do anything you want with it, thank you!!

now playing - kiss my lips by boa

Pairing: BoA x Fem!Reader

Idol: Kwon Bo-ah (Soloist)

Warning(s): slight angst..?

A/N: awww, thank you so much! I’m honestly so glad someone requested for her, so I appreciate this.

You and Boa’s friendship ran way back, ever since you were a trainee under SM. Of course, she was already a well-established soloist by then, but she supported you throughout your entire journey. She would always come over when you needed her for support or listen attentively when you wanted her opinion on something, especially your songs.

"Unnie?" Boa looked up at the sound of your voice, drawing her attention away from her phone. "Can you listen to this and tell me how it sounds?" Your voice was becoming quieter as you were becoming increasingly self-conscious at the thought of her listening to your song. She nodded happily and sat closer to you, waiting for you to press play. As soon as you did, you looked down shyly, as you didn’t want to see her reaction as it played. You were completely unaware of the smile forming on her face.

Once the music stopped playing, you hesitantly looked up, only to be met with her bright smile. “That was amazing!” She complimented, turning her attention back to you. “You sound amazing, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but blush at her words, feeling an overwhelming amount of joy at her genuineness. “Thank you..” You mumbled, causing her to release a chuckle at your timidity.

You were an aspiring soloist, and before you even made your debut, she visited you as you practiced the choreography for your title track. As soon as you did make your debut, she was openly supportive, and the whole industry would notice how far her support reached.

You were going over the choreography with your choreographer while Boa was sitting and observing in the back, quietly. She pulled her phone out to record you when you came to a stop, running your hand through your hair as you breathed heavily. Smiling at her phone, she posted the video on her Instagram story. You turned to her as you noticed her through your peripheral vision. "You’re doing great, love!" She shouted and gave you a thumbs up, causing you to put your hands on your knees and laugh. You found her to be so cute.

While perfecting the choreography, you were also vlogging in between breaks. Boa could be seen in the background from time to time, but you weren’t aware of that as you were too busy talking to the camera. However, once you did notice, you focused the camera on her. “Unnie, say hi!” Boa looked up from her phone and waved with a smile, earning a giggle from you. Once you turned away to talk to the camera again, her gaze never left you. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched you, finding you adorable.

She found herself doing that often. She simply couldn’t look away at times. If anything, she spent most of her time admiring you. Even fans had caught onto the way she looked at you, whether it be during Instagram lives or if she was present in the videos on your channel. Your little mannerisms always warmed her heart.

There was one thing she began to yearn for though, and that was your attention. Ever since you’ve been focused on your career, which she is fully supportive of, she can’t help but wish you would spend more time with her. Sure, she understood you would be very busy, especially with your newfound fame, but it did upset her to a certain extent. Not your success, but your lack of attention towards her. She was so used to being with you, and now, with all of your promotions, you haven’t had any time for her. You would send her a text after every performance or when you finished an interview, and her face would always light up when she saw your name pop up.

As usual, she was expecting a text from you since you had just finished your final performance for promotions, which she had watched on TV. However, it never came. Boa noticed you posted on your story, and it was a picture of you and Taeyeon. You were kissing her on the cheek, and she was smiling. It was a cute photo, but Boa wished it was her. She hadn’t seen you in all this time, and the first person she sees you with is one of her friends.

Sighing, she locked her phone and placed it beside her, crossing her arms. She felt a strange feeling bubbling in her stomach, something that resembled jealousy. She shouldn’t be jealous, right? Why would she be? You’re only friends. Her face grimaced at the word. Friends. She even shocked herself with her reaction. Why is she suddenly against the term ‘friends’ when it comes to describing you both? That’s what you were.

Groaning, she picked up her phone again and clicked on your contact. She chewed on her bottom lip, debating whether to call you or not. If you were hanging out with Taeyeon, you’d surely be busy and wouldn’t even pick up your phone. You usually gave your full attention to whoever you were with at the time, something Boa loved but hated as of now. It was a great quality, but not when she was the one who wanted your undivided attention. Disregarding her thoughts, she tapped the call button.

Listening to the rings, she tapped her foot on the floor anxiously. Just when she thought it would go to voicemail, your voice was heard on the other end. “Unnie!” Boa smiled at your excitement. She could sense a smile on your face and her smile only widened. “Y/N-ah!” She mirrored your excitement, causing you to giggle through the phone.

“Is there something you need?” You questioned as you walked away from the chaos in the background, wanting to be in a quieter place so you could hear Boa clearly. “Well…” She trailed off, to which you waited patiently for her response.

“I was wondering if you’d be able to come over tonight. I haven’t seen you in so long!” Your smile grew at her response. Although you were tired, you were more than willing to go see her. How could you pass on the opportunity when you haven’t seen her in some time?

“Of course! I’ll be there in a few.”

Boa felt an overwhelming amount of happiness at your willingness to come over despite just finishing a performance. You both said your farewells and hung up. She placed her phone once again beside her, this time feeling joyful and anticipating your arrival. Wanting to be able to greet you immediately, she chose to stay in the living room and watch TV as a way to pass time.

In no time, there was a knock at the door that alerted her. She paused the show she was watching and quickly stood up, making her way to the door. She opened the door and was met with your smiling figure. Her gaze traveled down your body, realizing you were still wearing your stage outfit. It wasn’t that revealing, but it was revealing enough for her heartbeat to pick up. She may have seen it on TV, but it wasn’t the same as seeing it up close in person. Her gaze shot back up to yours when you cleared your throat. You smiled at her knowingly, and she chuckled nervously.

“Wanna invite me in? It’s kinda cold out here.” You spoke as you rubbed your arms to provide the warmth you needed. Boa immediately ushered you in and closed the door behind you, locking it. You’ve been to her place many times so you were well accustomed to making yourself at home. You plopped down on the couch with a sigh. She sat right beside you and rested her head on her hand as she watched you.

You felt her looking at you and your lips curved into a smile. “You should take a picture.” Boa sat up straighter, confused and somewhat startled by your words. You found her confused expression to be utterly cute and it only made you want to tease her more. “Of me. You should take a picture so you don’t have to keep looking.” You continued, causing her eyes to widen. Her ears had noticeably gotten red and she shifted her gaze from you, trying her best to focus on anything that wasn’t you.

“Unnie, I’m just messing with you!” You playfully shoved her shoulder, resulting in her letting out a nervous laugh. She had no choice but to laugh it off as it was painfully obvious that she was embarrassed.

Boa opened her mouth to say something but the sound of a phone ringing caused all of the words she wanted to say to disperse. You looked at your phone and your eyes widened. “I’m gonna be right back, okay?” You told her as you stood up hastily, making a move to go into another room. Her eyes also widened and she nodded, urging you to go.

She crossed her legs and waited patiently. She couldn’t help but get curious though. Why did you need to go into another room? You usually don’t mind answering calls in front of her. Eyebrows furrowing, she tried her best to listen to what you were saying on the phone. Did she think it was wrong to be invading your privacy? Yes. Was her curiosity overshadowing the guilt she felt brewing? Also, yes. She limited her movement and did her best to be as quiet as possible, only being able to overhear your conversation.

Her head tilted at your hushed giggles. Her suspicions were growing at who you could possibly be talking to. She started thinking of names of idols you’re somewhat close with. Yuna? No, you’ve talked to her with Boa around. Yoon? No, she would be able to hear Yoon’s voice through the phone loud and clear. Taeyeon? No, you were just with her. Unless she was calling you to see if you made it safely. Why would she be the one to know that? Boa’s head was swimming with questions but she was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard you tell the person a farewell.

Acting like she wasn’t listening, she quickly grabbed the remote and pretended to be looking for another show. Once you came back, she looked up at you and smiled. It wasn’t the most genuine and you could tell, but you returned her smile and sat beside her once again, nonetheless.

Silence had overcome you both, but it was a comfortable one. Boa abruptly stopped browsing through the shows, causing you to look over at her. “Who was that?” She asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the tv. Your eyebrows raised at the sudden question.

“On the phone?” She nodded, to which you sat up straighter, and placed your hands on your lap. “Taeyeon unnie.” You answered as if it was nothing. To you, it really was nothing, but not to Boa. She let out a dry laugh, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“Of course.” She muttered under her breath as she placed the remote on the table. “What do you mean by that?” You questioned, turning your whole body to face her. “I’m just not surprised, that’s all.” She responded, still not bothering to look at you.

“Why is that not surprising to you?” You were now feeling strange about the sudden change in her tone. “You and her have been hanging out quite often as of recently, and now you don’t want to call her in front of me.” She stated, now turning to face you. She was immediately met with your confused and somewhat offended expression.

“Why does who I hang out with matter to you?” You didn’t know where this side of Boa was coming from and you didn’t know how to feel about it. In your eyes, you weren’t doing anything wrong. Sure, it may have been odd that you chose not to answer the call in front of her, but you didn’t know how she’d react if you did answer it while she was present. It felt rude to talk on the phone in front of her and not giving her your full attention, especially after not seeing her in so long. You guys weren’t together so the way she was acting caught you off guard.

You could tell that your response had also caught her off guard. Her eyes widened as she realized how she was coming across. You had no idea how she felt about you and her jealousy even surprised her. “I-“ She didn’t know what to say and her lack of response made it evident.

“I think I should leave.” You spoke, picking up your phone before standing up and making your way to the door, to which Boa abruptly stood up. “Wait-“ You weren’t interested in what she had to say and proceeded to unlock the door despite her following behind you.

You opened the door and stepped outside, leaving a regretful Boa standing near the door. “Goodnight.” You sent a short smile her way before closing the door behind you. She couldn’t even bother chasing after you as she knew you did not want to talk to her for the rest of the night or however long you chose. She knew she could’ve tried harder to get you to stay but she simply wouldn’t know what to say if she succeeded.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and went back to sit on the couch. Boa knew she had to apologize, but she would have to go the extra mile in doing so. You were not dating but why did it feel like you just broke up with her?

-

A few days have passed and you still haven’t bothered to text her. You’ve occasionally posted on Instagram and Boa would notice every time, of course. She even continued to like your posts. She would usually comment, but she was scared of doing so after you left her place. She wanted to send you a message and apologize, but every time she would type something out, she would quickly delete it.

From your perspective, you were still somewhat upset with the way she acted and you were most definitely not going to be the one to initiate a conversation. You just chose to keep yourself busy and act as if she didn’t even exist. You were very conflicted in your feelings and she popped up in your mind every now and then. And by every now and then, it really meant every day. You wanted to talk to her but you were too stubborn to do so.

You went as far as hinting at her in the captions of your Instagram posts or when you posted on Weverse. You missed her, which was understandable since you both were together often and it felt weird not talking to or seeing her for so long. She, however, never picked up on your hints. She was just as oblivious as you were to her feelings.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about Boa until you spent this time away from her. Sure, you were close friends but why did you feel so empty without her by your side? You could be hanging out with your friends and your mind would always drift to her, causing your friends to always have to snap you out of it.

-

More time passed and you were currently working on another song. Normally you would have Boa by your side listening and giving her input, so working alone only made you feel weirder. You sighed at the realization that you would not be able to finish this song if she kept popping up in your mind.

You decided you go on your phone and as soon as the screen lit up, you noticed there was a message from a minute ago. Your ringer was off so if you hadn’t checked your phone, you simply wouldn’t have known. You unlocked it to see who it was from and what it said, and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you read the name and text.

7:15pm

Boa unnie <3

“Can you come outside?”

You clicked on the message to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. How did she know you were at the studio? Staring at your phone in utter confusion, you forgot that she was able to see that you read the message due to your read receipts being on. Another message popped up,

7:16pm

Boa unnie <3

“Please?”

You placed your phone in your pocket and stood up before making your way out the door. It was cold outside, so you hoped she wasn’t out there for too long. Knowing her, she was probably debating on actually sending the message and waited before going through with it. With how quickly she responded, she must have been staring at her phone as she waited for your response.

As soon as you stepped outside, you were immediately hit with the cold breeze. However, you didn’t care for that as you were only thinking about one thing or specifically, one person. You ventured further out and noticed a figure with their hands in their pockets as they were looking down.

“Unnie?” The sound of your voice alerted the person and they looked up. The sight of Boa nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs. It felt like forever since you’d seen her and with her now in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to hug her. Still being stubborn, you weren’t going to make the first move.

“Y/N..” She breathed out, a sense of relief washing over her at the sight of you after all these days. The fact that you actually came out and didn’t leave her out in the cold lifted her spirits. Knowing you wouldn’t be the first to make physical contact, she stepped forward and hesitantly opened her arms, testing whether or not you’d accept an embrace. Thankfully, you eagerly wrapped your arms around her neck, to which she happily wrapped hers around your waist.

If she could hold you in her arms for eternity, she would. Happiness bloomed inside of you as you enjoyed the comfort her hug provided. Boa was equally as content and once she pulled away, all she could do was stare at you. Truly soaking in your presence and making sure this wasn’t a dream. Her eyes trailed down to your lips and the movement of your lips brought her out of the trance she was in. Blinking quickly, her eyes shot back up. “I’m sorry?” She wasn’t able to hear anything you had just said, earning a chuckle from you.

“I asked why you were here so late.” You spoke softly, causing her to awkwardly shift her weight from one foot onto the other. “Well..” You looked at her expectingly, waiting for her to go on. “For starters, I wanted to apologize for how I reacted.” She began, clasping her hands together as she looked down.

“I don’t know why— well, I do know why I acted the way I did. I was jealous.” She confessed, causing your eyes to widen. “Why would you be jealous?” Your obliviousness was truly going to be the death of her. It was already embarrassing enough to state that she was jealous, but for the reason as to why she was made her embarrassment insufferable.

“I was under the impression that something between you and Taeyeon was happening. Unfortunately, my mouth was faster than my ability to rationally think and properly go about that situation.” Boa admitted as she occasionally glanced at you to see your reaction as she spoke.

A smile spread across your face as you listened to her speak. She gained the courage to say that, and you appreciated her doing so.

“Well, maybe I could have reassured you if you had informed me how you were feeling a long time ago.” You spoke, which caused her eyebrows to furrow as a result of her being unsure of what you meant when you said that.

“Reassure how?” Now it was her turn to be oblivious. You found her confused expression to be cute, evoking a soft laugh out of you. You took a step closer, feeling your confidence build up after realizing your feelings were reciprocated.

“Can I show you?” She nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. You cupped her face, tilting your head and leaning in to capture her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, completely immersing herself in the kiss and pouring all of her emotions into it. You matched her passion, hoping to convey everything you felt and more. It seemed that she had gotten the message as she smiled into the kiss.

Boa pulled back slightly and looked deeply into your eyes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted that to happen." She whispered against your lips, earning a chuckle from you. You felt a profuse amount of warmth spreading through your chest. “I was thinking the same thing..”

Just as she began closing the space between the two of you again, a gasp was heard nearby. You both pulled away from each other, hastily looking in the direction of where the noise came from. Your eyes widened once they landed on your manager standing there.

“Finally!” They shouted out, your shock now being replaced with confusion. You looked over to Boa, but were met with her smiling. “You knew she was coming?” You asked as you turned back to your manager, to which they nodded.

“How else do you think she knew you were at the studio?”

You were at a loss for words, your reaction bringing a laugh out of Boa and your manager. You were too stunned to react to her interlocking your fingers together, but when she gave your hand a gentle squeeze, you were pulled out of the addled state.

The corner of your lips curved up into a smile as you turned to her. Your eyes trailed down to her lips and the urge to kiss her was incredibly strong, but you had to hold yourself back considering your manager was still there.

“Now that everything is settled, can you both come inside? It is too chilly out here.” Your manager requested, bringing your attention back to them. They smiled and opened the door, gesturing for you both to enter.

Once you made it back inside, you all headed right back to the studio. You were in a much better mood and had a spark of inspiration. Deciding to put the song you were working on in the back burner, you now began working on another one. This time, creating one with a more romantic feel.

With your muse by your side, the lyrics came easy to you. Fondness swam in Boa’s eyes as she watched you formulate your ideas before picking up your guitar and strumming some notes. She listened attentively as you hummed the melody, her smile never leaving her face.

You felt her gaze on you so you turned to her, “What do you think?” You asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her observation. This scenario felt oddly familiar.

“You sound amazing, love.”

[shunxaii]

—★ yang jungwon

x male!soloist!reader

library ! k-pop shelf !

🐧 title : love like you

it was early 2023 that the song 'love like you' was covered by soloist l/n y/n. its popularity skyrocketed when different korean artists reacted to it. around july, different theories about the cover came to light, posted on different platforms, asking and trying to answer the same questions.

why did he choose this specific song?

why was he singing with such a tender voice?

why did it feel as if he was singing to someone?

who was that someone?

was he in love?

was it platonic?

some said it was for his family, who loved him so much. some said it was for his friends, who supported him and his early years into his career. some said it was for a certain member from a boy band, enhypen.

user : hiii!

user : how are you?

user : please make a finger heart!

user : all the love from (country)! 💗

jungwon smiled at the camera and said hi to the viewers, "hello yoi." he adjusted the camera before fixing his hoodie. he scanned through the comments and greeted the fans as they flooded in.

user : what are you doing for today?

user : please notice me!

user : it's night here 😭

user : we love you!

"oh? why are you still awake?" he laughed under his breath. "you should go sleep, it's a school night. engene should take care of their health," he sweetly smiled towards the camera.

user : can you play music?

user : do you know love like you?

user : come to (country) soon!

user : please listen to (song name)!

"love like you?" he read out in cute english. "oh! by y/n-ie. i love it. it has the calming and comforting vibe," he plays with the string of his hoodie. "he said that it's always been in his list of 'to cover' but i didn't think he would release it so soon."

user : release so soon?

user : ITS BEEN PLANNED!?

user : he said?

user : please play (song name)!

jungwon squinted his eyes at the piling comments before making his eyes look bigger, "he didn't tell you? i'm sorry y/n-ie- oh?" he reached forward and clicked on the notification that popped up. "oh. he said it's fine." he then smiled widely, dimples out and continued on like nothing happened.

user : he said it was fine!?

user : what do you mean by that won?

fans knew that yang jungwon of enhypen and soloist l/n y/n had some sort of connection. no, they do have a connection. the tiktok collaborations, reactions to each others songs, and texting during lives didn't mean nothing. it meant everything. it didn't help that articles were being published, claiming that they were outside together at random times.

y/n was adding fuel to the fire by dropping hints with cat emojis, going as far as using 'yoi'. it made fans very suspicious of their behavior. was it weird? no. seventeen and txt were friends with enhypen. was it suspicious? it shouldn't be, because they were label mates. but why was it suspicious?

"good day or night guys," y/n quietly greeted his fans, waving at them with a grin. he sat on the floor, at the foot of his bed with his phone on a tripod. "what's up? how have you guys been?"

user : hi hi!!!

user : i have exams tomorrow :(

user : we love you from (country)

user : please blink three times if you see this

y/n merely laughed and blinked three times. "if you have exams, i think you should use your time to review." he smiled at the comments genuinely. he then pulled out his second phone. "so what do you guys wanna do?"

user : please tell us why you made a cover for love like you

user : there must be a lore behind a cover lol

user : ___________________🐽

user : how long til your next concert? :)

"love like you really touched my heart, especially with the different interpretations people had of the song. i wanted you guys to have interpretations as well, but... i had one reason in mind," he scratched his chin, placing his phone down on the floor beside him. "there's no deep lore..." he laughed, finding their theories amusing. "you guys are going far off."

user : does it have anything to do with a someone?

user : oohh! just a hint!

user : _______________🐽

user : lol why are there pig nose emojis?? 😭

y/n laughed to himself, observing the comments. "half of you are invested, the rest are just goofing around." he then started to smile. a softer and more gentle smile, like remembering something. "it is a someone."

the comments started to fill his screen, making him panic as he tried to calm them down. "guys, slow down, i can't answer all your questions at once. though, i'll make one thing clear. it's someone i have romantic feelings for."

like any other idol, he left them on edge, never answering any other question, leaving them more confused and interested. he never tackled the topic anymore throughout that month, but he still used the same cat emojis.

jungwon smiled, humming to the song playing through the speakers. he was laying on a fluffy and warm bed, covered in many stuffed toys, blankets, and pillows.

"'cause... i think you're so good, and i'm nothing like you..."

the song droned through the air as jungwon scrolled through weverse on his phone, replying to posts. "what makes... you think i'm so special..." he sang along to the song, knowing it by heart as he had listened to it millions of times. he just loves it that much.

"you really like it that much?" a voice startles him, making him look up with a face and a hand on his chest. "sorry... i scared you. you just look cute sitting there and singing it. it's been repeating ever since this morning."

"it's my favorite song," jungwon sat up with a lovely smile. "the meaning for me goes deeper than the theories online."

a chuckle. "that's sweet of you wonie, i'll make more covers for you, maybe even songs." the person neared the bed and sat beside jungwon, who made space.

jungwon's cheeks turned into a shade of pink, "and i'd listen to them everyday y/n-ie." he then pulled the male into a warm hug. "i always will."

y/n's hands stiffened. he didn't know how to react much to affections. but he wanted to be better. "that's so sweet of you... you don't know how much that means to me," y/n hugged him back. his body slowly relaxed as his lips curved into a contented smile.

"i could do about anything... i could even learn how to love... like you."

love like you, the cover of soloist l/n y/n, in my interpretation, would be someone who's not so sure about their emotional capabilities, especially when it comes to love, (in a romantic aspect) causing them to only seek platonic and familial connections and disregard a life where they can have a romantic one. through the disregard, they look at romantic love in a way that it's useless, not something to like, or even seek. in short, something they shouldn't understand. however, once they meet someone, who makes their heart beat so fast, makes them nervous and sweat, makes them want to be with said person more, makes them want to know more, yearning for attention, their view shifts in a slow pace as to which they still need to get used to the change of their mind and heart.

the person that came into their life courts them and the singer is thrown into a world where they can't navigate through the flaws of their heart they once thought was useless. as time progresses, they realize that love is a wonderful thing, they just have to figure out how to express it in a way that doesn't hurt both of them. so, the singer writes a song for their special person, conveying their feelings in a way that's understandable to both of them.

hope you like my interpretation! ^^

- anon from (app)

comments:

user : omooo i love this interpretation!!

user : WOWWW THIS IS A MASTERPIECE!!! i'm posting this on weverse!!

user : is it connected to our jungwon?

user : so the singer isn't sure how to express love and his special someone is always there helping, understanding, and being patient with them!? i wish!!!

user : ohhh to be loved like this.....

[lem-argentum]

HIHI UM BEFORE I MAKE ANY DT POSTS here’s all of the commentary i had from doing the post-ew quests a few months ago :’>!!! JUST FOR CHRONOLOGICAL CONSISTENCY IN MY LIVEBLOG TAG….. THESE PATCHES WEREN’T MY FAVORITE BUT I HAD FUN 💛💛💛

I LOVE ZERO I LIKE HER SO MUCH AND SHE IS SO APLATONIC TO ME. 💛✨💛✨💛 even though they go the ‘ooo realizing the meaning of friendship~~’ route with her — she’s apl. i believe this in my heart. <33 (the line where a kid goes “you don’t know what a friend is???” and she goes “what. you Do?” <333)

this game honestly does fanservice so rarely that when the es.tinien working out scene came up i was likeWHAT????????????? . i feel like i dodged a bullet that they decided to do this with him instead of th.ancred or something because it would’ve been so over for me.

i enjoyed the ru.bicante and bar.bariccia fights a lot >:D!!!! ESPECIALLY THE LATTER I THOUGHT HER MECHANICS WERE REALLY FUN AND CHALLENGING, IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I HAD TO LOOK UP A VIDEO GUIDE BECAUSE THE TEXT ONES WERE TOO COMPLICATED HFNSKN. <33

^*WHO* GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO SAY THIS STUPID GAY SENTIMENTAL LINE. I WAS *NOT* PREPARED FOR HIM TO GIVE THAT ANSWER I WAS SO WHFKZHKEJFKD ??????!!?!/!/? !!!!!!!!!!

^AND THIS PART OF HIS CODEX ENTRY. OW!!!!!!!!!!!

THFNE QUESTS ON THE FIRST. AA HHHHHHHH .WAA AAHHHHH. WAAAAH (<-shadow.bringers fan.) so emotional about it. seeing everyone doing well and being excited to see me and talking about my friends and cheering us on :’). weh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THE R.YNE AND ZERO MOMENTS. AAHH TvT <333!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

^THIS EXCHANGE. I COULD CRYYYYYY SHE’S SO CUTE. MY DAUGHTER. EHEHFKNWMW <333

i liked gol.bez’s story.. and v.rtra and az.daja were so sweet i felt for them. waugh. </3 void quests good!!!!!!

GAIA SHOWING UP MADE ME SMILE TOO. I ASSUME SHE’S ONLY THERE IF YOU’VE DONE THE EDEN RAIDS…?? IN WHICH CASE, YAY. I LOVE U EDEN <3 ^^

kr.ile’s pictomancer outfit is SOOO CUTE. I LOVE HER AND AM SO GLAD SHE’S GETTING STORY FOCUS. (and hashtag ff.vi win, relm mention) <3333

the themes raha represents touch me more than any other character and whenever she turns towards me to say something one-on-one i’m immediately like Okkkk you’re about to try to make me cry. okay. sure. thankyou. 💛

THAN & URI BEING MYSTERIOUS WHILE ALSO GOING TO THE SAME DESTINATION IS SO. HELP. because rudy would ABSOLUTELY ask if he could invite them along or at the VERY LEAST tell them about it + how much he’ll miss them, assuming him and than would be together by now. SO THEY’D HAVE TO EITHER LIE TO RUDY OR DELIBERATELY AVOID HIM WHICH ARE BOTH SO WNFKDJFKD. idk we’ll see where the canon writing goes later or whatever. <3

and non-story related thoughts from when i was playing:!!!!

i got rudy the cool pvp background for his reaper portrait and INSTANTLY when i did a roulette someone complimented it. immediate payoff. thank u red mage in bardam’s mettle <3

i had the sweetest leveling roulette experience in vanaspati where the healer + other dps were both new and i had only done it once, we all died on the second boss except for the paladin so we were all just cheering her on & emoting at her in the chat from outside the arena EHEDFN <33. and then on the third boss it was just me and her who survived so we did it together and ough :’). she kept casting clemency + cover on me to keep me alive and i made sure to keep her in crest of time returned-range and awwh it was so fun . we won and all cheered about it afterwards ehehe <)!!!!!!!!!! <3333

so many of the songs in this game use motifs from other ones and i’m only just now noticing most of them and i’m losing my mind about it . i swear every time i start humming along to one i go WAAAAIT A SECOND…………. (the tomorrow and tomorrow lyrics are in the background of the crystarium night theme. the sharlayan themes use stuff from flow. WHERE IN TIMEE ALL SHALL AS HOPEE BE REBORNNNN. AAHHHHH)

^on a similar note, i’ve been seeing the end.walker title screen this entire time and never thought anything of it but now whenever i open it i’m like TALES OF LOSSSSS AND FIIIIIIRE AND FAIIIIITHHHHHHH 🎶🎶🎶 <333

I LEVELED ASTROLOGIAN TO LVL80 SO I DID THE SHB HEALER ROLE QUESTS AND IM SO WWWAAAHHMFKDNFK. ARDBERTTTTTT. and GIOTT. IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE NPCS EVER NOW I KNEW I WOULD LIKE HER AND SHE IS SO AWESOME AND SHE SHOULD BE IN MORE QUESTS. THANKS. I MISS HER ALREADY. <3 THIS IS MY BELOVED DWARF WHO MAKES FUN OF ME AND HITS THINGS WITH HAMMERS <3333

i want to do all the shb role quests because AGHGH WARRIORS OF DARKNESS/!!!/!!!! but i do *not* want to level a tank class ever TwT. but that + magic dps i will do eventually….. for shadow.bringers………. 💛💛💛

[misc-obeyme]

it's way too early in the morning but I got dropped off early for work 😭 so I'm gonna write ajsjdj

yes I'm glad you noticed about Solomon and Mammon !! He started doing it impulsively. And then sometimes if it has a specific time like "have to stop by bank after work" Solomon will text him back "stopped by the bank yet? :]" It's so cute.

Okay but he DOES find out what seat I got. I very excitedly end up yapping about it, but not before Mammon texts Lucifer the info. Also I'd like to think there's at least one night before the concert that Mammon invites both of them over and they help me make bracelets. I have to write out the phrases, but they can put them together just fine. It's usually just song title acronyms or short lyrics.

And then the day before the concert 👀 Belphie and Beel end up in town. I think they skipped the concert right before my show to get there early and rest, but the day before the concert, they go visit Mammon.

I think I said Beel does casual mukbangs? Levi can't believe he doesn't have a consistent upload schedule but Beel is just having fun. He interacts online when he doesn't have content to post. But him and Belphie coming to the shop to annoy Mammon- I mean visit their dear big brother - Yeahhh... askdkj

Unknown to Mammon, I occasionally watch Levi's streams, but that means I also got into Beel's content because like ?? He's such a sweetheart. How could I not? Yet they've never been brought up by Mammon by name, so no one's connected the dots.

Beel and Belphie sitting on the bar stools usually taken by Solomon and I, and Mammon is kinda annoyed because those seats are taken in his mind. But Beel is happily munching, and Belphie is asking if there's anything to do in the city since they have the whole day free (Mammon tells him to go bug Satan).

I'm debating if Solomon comes in during this. Cue Mammon getting slightly flustered, taking payment without fussing today ONLY because his brothers are there and he can't have them knowing he gives stuff out for free.

(THERE'S PEOPLE IN THE BREAK ROOM WITH ME 😭 I'VE GOT MORE TO WRITE)

I think I also come in, running late because I stayed up making bracelets. "Hi Mammon, here you go, can't talk, already have people asking if they can pick up their records today, thank you, bye!" Cue Mammon getting flustered again and having a cute smile on his face, only for Belphie to start snickering at him.

Also, see, if I don't recognize the person, I will avoid eye contact so hard. I will stare at the ground, at least in public. At the shop I'm better about it.

I feel like Belphie would catch a glimpse of my bracelets, and since he's already been to a few shows, he recognizes some songs/the color scheme. Actually, he's probably into the band too 🤓 He's definitely a pre-hiatus guy

But hearing the word 'record' gets him interested, and he's asking Mammon what I was talking about. If there's a record shop nearby. And Mammon is reluctant to tell him because he doesn't need his brothers going and bothering me.

Unfortunately Beel's research for restaurants when visiting a city also include scoping out things for Belphie when possible. So he definitely knows about the record shop. He was gonna take Belphie there after. Pipes up with the name and everything.

OKAY I NEED TO CLOCK IN 😭 EVERYONE WAS TALKING TO ME AND I WAS LIKE o(-( Because I was writing this. I'll probably write more after work or something. Maybe. Hopefully.

OH YEAH, LOL YOU KNOW MY NAME(S). I added Star on there bc a mutual used starry to refer to me and i was like 🥺 BUT MY MC'S NAME IS PAULA LOLOL

AJSJD OKAY BYE

- ✨

NAME REVEAL.

Okay but for yourself do you have a preference? Would you like me to call you Star or Lupe? I'm good either way of course~

But I love Paula!!!

I love Solomon so much, he's just happy to be Mammon's text reminder buddy~

Okay, and yes I do remember Beel doing mukbangs and I have to say that I LOVE that for him~ I'd watch them for sure lol.

I love them sitting in your usual seats and Belphie kinda clocking on to what's happening! That guy may be lazy, but he's smart!

OMG so are Beel and Belphie gonna visit the record shop???

Ohhh I hate when someone tries to talk to me when I'm working on something like yes hello but please leave me alone lol.

[theredandwhitequeen]

Young Royals episode 1 Queen Shouts loudly Taking medication, looks kinda sick Making out on Wille’s bed, being teenagers  The deal ending with August possibly getting a title but losing his estate, booo The drugs and gun came out August is a slime ball as is His step dad The drive up, snowing The look into the camera The Duke gets to speak Using Erik to get Wille and August to behave, also she was crying She broke down hard, I wonder if this has been happening behind the scenes for awhile. Wille trying to comfort her as well, her crying for Erik Back at School August is back Saw the students Cest la vie the song  Felice is upset in her room, about Sara The girls are worried about her, wearing the same clothes for days Breaking up with a friend can be worse than getting dumped - Madison you tell them Federika is very excited to see Wille and Simon together  First smile we got from Felice is when Wille texts Wille returning  Wearing pink, very cute Farima talking about being crown prince and using his relationship with Simon to get new royalists, when Simon is an anti monarchist, also learning about being crown prince in the summer, that everything Simon does reflects on royal family plus the court and he shouldn’t speak to reporters which I’m betting he has no desire to do. The pee cup came from Linda and she grounded for the rest of the year. She is so mad. Sara, All of this is your Fault. Ouch Simon Poor kids Reporter texted Vincent about the speech, and initiations. Interesting  Photographers at the entrance  I don’t know what Madison and Felice were doing with the locker but it was funny Kissing hello in front of everybody, terrific and cute I’ve told them I’m going to be both The Crown Prince and your boyfriend. Way to earn boyfriend points Wille Looking at August together as he walks away Party plans Stop measuring your body fat August, that’s not doing you any good Vincent knew about Felice and Sara, that he’d slept with both One of the 50 day things was sext a teacher or sleep with a first year. Really classy Drawing on Wille, a heart, no extremes in hair length and no tattoos, not allowed. 😭 I think mama would decapitate me if I got a tattoo  Wille, Simon and Felice in a scene talking about Sara. It’s so good to see them together  Marcus talked to reporters about Simon and Wille. You utter bastard. Poor Simon Simon talking to Rosh and Ayub and them being his sounding boards. Also how does grounding work in Sweden? Is he just prohibited from leaving the house and his friends can come over. I thought grounding meant he had to be home and no friends. Well this is better I guess The Fish!!!!!!!!!! The new picture😍 Wille and Erik on his desk, so cute The shaving scene I like Nils and Wille scenes, asking about Erik. Sara went to Micke’s damn. She just can’t be at home right now but still hasn’t forgiven him Felice intervention, taking her to new York in summer Wille’s room morning New scandal, initiations etc, yikes, article  Principal requested leave of absence, oh god, acting principal. Younger woman New rules, curfew, only get phones for an hour, extra activities canceled, no drugs no alcohol 

[mitchelldailygames]

Heroes of Song Devlog Part 11: Picking It Back Up

I set this game to the side for a bit to work on some other projects, but recently have found some new motivation and have been diving back into it! As always, the design principles:

The heroes are cute.

Kindness matters.

The world is weird.

Sometimes you don’t fight. Sometimes you do.

Health is hearts.

Art Announcement

One of the main drivers of my new motivation is that I got art back! Check back here on the Wednesday after Christmas to see the first piece! You can also follow me on the website I continue to call Twitter to see it.

Having something to look at, something to grasp of this world I’ve been imagining, is very exciting and life-giving. On all other projects I’ve released, I’ve either done the art myself or used stock images, so there were always limitations. Having a very talented artist actually create the perfect artwork for this game is incredible. I highly recommend it. 10/10.

The artist is @warrenbutgnome. You should definitely check out his stuff.

Layout or “The Look”

I’ve recently been trying out some layout ideas and feel like I’m approaching something that I like. You can see it below. The pixelation is hiding some of the art I will be revealing soon, and the text isn’t final, but you can get the idea. I’ll just say, I’m sticking with “The heroes are cute.”

I like having the solid color corners so you can easily find chapters. The dots in that solid color field are the forj’d rune numbers for the chapter number. I think overall, this look is pretty clean and doesn’t interfere with the text. This is friendlier and softer than a lot of the stuff I’ve made (especially recently) which I think is good for this game.

The text will be justified, not left aligned. I’ve already changed it on the document. The fonts used here are Da Pandora for the title/chapter headings and Palatino for everything else. I don’t know what else to say about it, but getting this done, even though I’m a long way off from actually finalizing text and laying everything out, is really encouraging. If you have suggestions or feedback, I’m open to it!

Character Sheet

I’ve also been working on the character sheet. You can find the current version of first page, which contains the essential information for a character, below.

Knowing how much space I actually have while looking at the page on a computer is always a challenge for me. I have a tendency to give way too much space for some things and not leaving enough for others. Looking at it now, I see there is much more space for writing out the second piece of gear than the first. That could definitely be improved. Earlier versions had huge boxes for the character portrait/description, and I like it slimmed down.

I liked the idea of coloring in the symbols with color for hearts, effort, and spirit based on how much your max was. Trying it out with just normal pencils is a little awkward, so I might end up making a version that doesn’t have that so I can free up space for writing out move descriptions or songs, runes, and rituals. I’m also not sure how to get a fillable pdf that allows filling up the images for the pools without doing some programming that I don’t know how to do. That’s definitely no the top priority at the moment, but it’s on my mind. If someone reading this knows exactly how they’d do it, I’d be willing to pay to get it done.

Other Stuff

I’ve been tweaking the rules. I’ve been stat-ing out enemies. I’ve even been working out some downtime systems including a community building mechanic and mini-games for a variety of leisure/non-adventuring activities like fishing/hunting, foraging, and cooking. I also made a list of prompts for getting to know your characters a bit better when nothing else is going on. Sometimes you don’t fight.

I was going to get into all of that, but as I started writing it, I realized it really was its own post. So keep an eye out for that down the line!

The world is weird; kindness matters.

--Daily