#what I would have given to see him perform that dance on a music show

[atinystraynstay]

I Don't Share - Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis: Jungkook was the one that proposed you should be friends with benefits. You both were single and had desires. Falling in love wasn't a part of the plan though.

Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook x Back up Dancer!fem reader

Genre: Smuttttt! Jealous, posessive Jungkook, friends with benefits - Minors DNI

Contains: public sex, mentions of eating out (f. receiving), light spanking (f. receiving), no protection vaginal sex, slight degradation, creampie, hair pulling

Word Count: 2.6k

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You were given the opportunity of a lifetime. What started as a way to kill time during the pandemic quickly turned into you flying to South Korea to join BTS in their rehearsals for their Permission To Dance shows. A little over a year later, you were in rehearsals again for Jungkook's solo promotions with the release of his debut album, Golden. You didn't think your life could get better than this.

Never before would you think that your dance studio closing to meet shutdown requirements would grant you the opportunity of a lifetime. Or that you would meet the guy of your dreams.

Jungkook was around your age, so it was easy for you two to get along. You often would spend late nights going over and over the dance routine for performances and the filming of upcoming music videos. His manager would often ask if he wanted a ride home, but Jungkook would always come up with an excuse.

"No, I'm ok. I want to make sure my hyungs are proud of me when they can finally see this!" Which often made the staff smile that he wanted to make his members proud.

Another one often was along the lines of - "No, thank you though. I am just stuck on this one part of the choreography and I think I'm finally getting it down. I will call security to make sure I get home." He promised every single time to use the resources at the company, but he never did.

He always opted to take Uber rides with you. At first, it was because Jungkook liked being able to talk to someone around his age. He had a solid group of friends, but you were new. Coming from the United States, he wanted to know what it was like to be a 20-something-year-old making it work.

The two of you often shared after practices drinks and meals. "You know, we have to nourish our bodies well. Jin-hyung taught me that well."

Quickly though, his hunger turned into something else. Getting to know you, getting to watch how your hips moved with ease, he began to grow hungry for your pussy. Jungkook was a very competitive guy, and he was determined to be the best at fucking you until you see the stars. He wanted to make you cum and scream until you forgot your name, until you questioned your ability to walk after.

Meals quickly turned into eating you out at your apartment. To be fair, it was his favorite meal of the day. He loved getting down on his knees for you, spreading them wide, and exposing you to him. Only or him. He often liked to blow cool air on your pussy to watch you squirm underneath his touch.

Jungkook thrived on knowing the reaction he could pull out of you. He liked knowing you whimpered and begged for him to lick your pussy, to suck on your clit as if his life depended on it. And if you begged well, he would reward you by sliding two of his fingers into your pussy.

Dance practices weren't the only reason why he would come over. If a recording session didn't go well, you offered comfort by letting him bend you and pound into your pussy. Afterwards, you would always talk about how he was feeling but you quickly learned that Jungkook preferred letting his frustrations out physically rather than verbally at first.

There were just a few more performances left for the group. Everyone knew that Jungkook would be enlisting soon, so nobody was taking it for granted. Every dance, every member of the crew, and Jungkook himself were basically putting their all into every dance practice, dress rehearsal, and performance.

You were currently sitting criss-cross on the dance practice floor, your water bottle resting in your lap. Your thumb moved your TikTok FYP up every once in a while. There was a 30 minute break, allowing some people to go grab lunch while others were taking a minute to just relax.

"So, y/n, did you know someone here in Korea before you moved?"

There was often conversation floating among the dancers. Down time and hanging outside of practice were opportunities to get to know one another, and do a little networking. With the days narrowing down on this contract, you were beginning to consider your options. Part of you wanted to go back home, to reunite with family, but you also were having the time of your life here.

Hearing your name, you locked your phone and set it on the floor. There were a few others who joined you on the floor, in their own worlds until the current conversation started. You felt all eyes on you as the question was directed to you.

"No, I actually didn't," You laughed. A year ago, you never would have had the courage to move across the world by yourself. Being here now, you knew it was the best decision. "So a good dancer, a risk taker, beautiful," one of the male dancers began to list.

You blushed at the compliment. One thing that has changed is your struggle to accept compliments. You knew he meant well, but it didn't stop you feeling as if your face had gotten incredibly hot.

"You've got to have a partner, right? Meet someone here in Korea? I mean, Korean men know how to treat you right," he winked.

You heard one of the female dancers scuff. She rolled her eyes at his words, shaking her head towards the two of you. "Don't listen to him. Stay away from Korean men," she warned before going back to eat her salad.

"You're just upset still about your breakup," he muttered. Quickly, that was followed by a loud smack and laughter from the other members. You watched the one male rub his tender arm, apologizing to the woman to his right. Satisfied, she nodded in acknowledgement before going back to her lunch.

The male looked back at you, smiling sheepishly. "Anyways, are you single?" He asked. "You've never met up with us after practice for a quick drink."

Yeah, I normally can't go out because I'm getting railed by Jungkook after practice.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend back home?"

Decided to speak to yourself, you laughed as a way to break the conversation. Eager eyes were on you, wanting to know more about their American colleague.

"That's my bad for not showing face after practice. I normally get tired and want to go home. Sometimes I'm even here practicing a bit more just to make sure I'm as good as you all. I mean, you guys are professionals."

The group smiled wide at your kind words. You weren't sure how you'd fit in as an outsider, especially if you weren't sure if you were going to be staying or not. At the start of this job, you placed a huge amount of pressure to do well especially as you knew that so many people would do anything to be in your position. You wanted the company to be satisfied that they chose the right person.

"Well, now that it's known that we want you here. You are coming out with us tomorrow night." "Yes, you have to! We'll have to show you around the best parts of Seoul." "And hopefully get you with the best guy." "Or at least go home with the best guy."

Your cheeks turned pink again, which caused all the whole group to smile. How could life get any better?

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The sun had already set by the time you got done with practice. Most of the group had left for the evening whereas you were packing up your duffle bag with all your belongings. While you were very much looking forward to tomorrow night, you always loved a night-in to yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook would want to come over.

"You know, you really should be leaving here by yourself," a voice called out to you.

Startled, you looked over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning against the practice room door. Speak of the devil. You placed one hand over your chest as your racing heart began to settle, very slowly that is.

"God, you fucking scared me."

He let out a laugh before coming into the room. You only could tell how he was moving by the sound of his laughter growing louder. "Sorry, doll, I couldn't help myself," he apologized. You hummed in amusement as you had your back turned towards him, trying to get the rest of your belongings together so you could leave. Because if he was ready to go, that meant that you were to.

You felt his hand ghost over your hip. Zipping up the duffle bag, you slowly stood up straighter to feel him right behind you. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against it. You shivered from the effect and with excitement.

"You seem to really be finding your place here," he said.

His voice was very smooth. He knew the effect he had on you, how you were basically wrapped around his finger. And he used it to his advantage. You were a bit confused as to where this was coming from.

"I mean, I overheard you making plans with the other dancers. I think that's good for you." His hand gently caressed your hip, the touch light as a feather. You were almost in a trance from it all. Just feeling his body heat radiate into your back sent a wave of warmth throughout you.

"But there is one thing I do not like." You were about to look over at him, but were cut off when his grip on you tightened. He yanked you back so you could feel his boner right up against his ass. You gasped in surprise which caused him to chuckle lightly. The laugh sending shivers done your spine. "I don't like sharing, angel."

Everything happened so suddenly. One minute, you were getting your duffle bag, the next you were being pinned against the mirrors of the dance studio. Jungkook's grip was tight enough to inform you he was in charge here, but loose enough to slip out if you felt uncomfortable. Yet, his gaze locked on you told you to stay put.

His breathing was a bit rigid, sensing emotions were coursing through his body. What was on his mind? You noticed his jaw was a bit clenched, almost as if he was contemplating what he was doing or his next move.

"Let me make it clear. You are not going home with anyone else besides me. You'll always come back to me."

Oh god, he overheard your conversation earlier. It was starting to make sense.

"I'll have to remind you if that's an issue." "Then mark me up and make me yours."

Jungkook's breathing hitched hearing you. He wasn't expecting such a response from you but it made him so damn weak. God, you were the death of him.

Not one to back down, he accepted your challenge.

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Smack.

You whimpered loudly at the feeling of Jungkook's hand meeting your left asscheek. It was like an electric jolt. A bit painful, considering he has spanked you repeatedly throughout the evening, but also pleasurable because it made you feel alive. It honestly made you feel powerful.

Jungkook had you on your hands and knees. You were at the dance studio. You knew everyone had left but the thrill of someone potentially catching the two of you turned you on.

With one hand staying on your hip, Jungkook's other hand ran up your spine gently. His touch was still a stark contrast to the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy. Each smack against your ass caused your walls to squeeze around his cock, sending the two of you into a chorus of moans.

His hips rammed into you from behind. It created a rhythmic sound of skin slapping, the two of you moaning, and how wet you were. The last sound caused your cheeks to heat up, much to Jungkook's satisfaction.

The hand on your spine gathered your hair. You were grateful you put it in a low ponytail during practice earlier. Jungkook pulled your head, causing you to hiss in response. The sweet sting of your hair being pulled made you crave more. The sudden movement also caused your eyes to become a bit glossy. Your head tilted back as you met his in the reflection of the mirror.

"Look at you," Jungkook asked. His mouth was curled into a sinister smirk. "You're crying over my cock. Is it not enough for you, hmm? Is that why you wanna go out to meet other guys?"

"No, Jungkook, fuck," he panted out. "You're all I want, all I need." "Oh yeah? Prove it. Cum on my cock. Show me that I really am the only one that can make you feel so damn good."

If it were possible, Jungkook increased his pace. You cried out in pleasure as the intensity of his brutal thrusting caused your arms to give out. You upper half of your body rested against the cool wood floor, causing your ass to move a bit up. Jungkook groaned in appreciation for the change. He couldn't help himself. Smack.

Your mind was hazy. You couldn't comprehend anything besides Jungkook's cock filling and stretching you out. Your vision was getting blurry from the tears beginning to fall as you felt that familiar tingling, warm sensation in your stomach.

In a matter of moments, your vision went white and your toes curled. You screamed out his name. His grip on your hips could be burned into your skin. You never wanted him to stop touching you. Jungkook groaned as his thrusts got harder, determined to meet you at your high. The world around you seemed to stand still while your head was in the clouds.

After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud groan. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, which sent you into a whimpering mess at the feeling. You felt so content. He also felt content seeing some of his cum spilling out of your pussy once he began to pull out.

He swore you've never looked more beautiful. All his.

Lips were being pressed against your spine. You didn't even register that your body had sprawled out onto the wooden surface until Jungkook gently moved you. Your head rested on his chest, your back on the floor. His hand ran up and down your lower back. His other hand reached up to wipe away any of your remaining tears.

You were bringing brought down to reality. You could register the sound of you two heavy breathing, the slight tremors of your body starting to subside. With your head pressed into Jungkook's chest, you could hear his once racing heart beat begin to steady itself.

"You won't forget about me, right?" "How could I ever forget about you?"

There was a pause. Jungkook was the type to usually have a response, or do something in response to what was said to him. Not this time.

You looked up at him, concerned as you knew something was bothering him. Unfortunately, you got confirmation when you were met with his own glossy eyes.

"Look, I know a lot is going to change over 18 months. I don't care if you stay here in Korea or you go back home. I don't like sharing, y/n, so just promise not to forget about me because I'll come back to you. Every single damn time." "I could never forget about you, Jeon Jungkook. I'll be waiting for you, regardless of what happens next."

[carpkoinobori]

[☆] mean girls — momo x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): applause - lady gaga | moments in love - charli xcx | paparazzi- lady gaga | old friend - mitski | mean girls - charli xcx | west coast - lana del rey | pink in the night - mitski

summary: getting on the survival show sixteen was really just a way to kickstart your acting career. who would’ve guessed it’d take such a toll on you?

pairing: momo x actress!reader

tags: not that much angst, happy ending, barely frenemies traumabonded to situationship to kinda friends to lovers, reader is just a little unstable, there is a good amount of fluff though

wc: 9.3k

cw: dieting, mild sexual content, alcohol, cigarettes (smoking), mention of covid, making out (like 4 times)

ex: not beta read, timeline was as accurate as I could make it given the fact that for some reason no one knows where twice was at during november and october of 2017

a/n: is it me if the story doesn’t have either an ed/restriction reference or catholic elements.. I love charli xcx’s music. reader has a “disgraced” older sister

you were 17 years old when you were told you made it onto sixteen.

you were a JYP trainee— not for an idol group, no, for acting. Yet, you were put into singing and dancing classes. It was a bit weird, but as long as you could perform, you didn’t mind.

you did pretty well, actually. You weren’t a top trainee by any means— this wasn’t your true passion— but you were good. You enjoyed dancing, and were pretty talented with hiphop and other less restrictive styles.

your parents had forced you into ballroom, specifically waltzes, even more specifically the Viennese waltz, since you could remember. You were a prim and proper, well-mannered, upper class girl. Perfect for acting, perfect for the silver screen.

Your father was a business magnate— specifically in transportation. He wasn’t like Samsung, no, but a manufacturer of luxury vehicles. He designed trains, bus systems, even planes, at time— he was a talented engineer, of course, but most of the work had now been relegated to employees. When you told him you wanted to be an actor, he didn’t really mind. Your mother didn’t look like she loved the idea, but it’d be good for the family image, so she conceded. After all, you’d succeed, right?

right?

What they didn’t tell you about being on a survival show is how it gets into your head.

you were competitive by nature, fueled by your parents constant reminders you needed to be the best. You were the daughter of a powerful and rich businessman, with his perfect trophy wife— their only daughter needed to be perfect, of course.

you played instruments— violin, piano, flute— were in extracurriculars— tennis, skiing, dance, language classes— had an absolutely pristine record, and perfect grades. You were the poster child of perfection, a face fit for magazines and your family, the girl a mother would tell you to bring home.

But you know, it gets tiring to be so perfect. You hadn’t had any competition— until now, that is.

Sixteen perfect, beautiful, talented girls. Seven spots.

You had never felt more desperate to prove yourself than in that moment.

It was strange, really— you didn’t want to be in an idol group. You had never even considered it. Your passion was acting, it always had been, and it always would be.

but you had never been bad at anything your whole life. Everything you had tried, you had mastered, a desperate fervor to know and prove yourself. But here you were, for once, not the best at something— and it drove you absolutely crazy.

you needed to be the absolute best, the perfect candidate— the prettiest, the best singer, the best personality, the best dancer—

you couldn’t, though. and it killed you.

You met Momo when you were 15. It was 2013, some time in the winter, although you couldn’t quite remember. Some people said she looked like you, but you didn’t really see it.

She had been a trainee for longer— since 2012– you had never really gotten the chance to talk to her, on account of the fact she didn’t speak Korean. Momo was Japanese, same as Sana. They were both close, obviously, and you had noticed they took Korean language classes with a tall Taiwanese girl you never bothered to learn the name of.

There were the trainees everyone knew would debut— Nayeon, Jihyo, Jeongyeon— and the trainees people didn’t really speak about.

You were somewhere in the middle. You had a lot of skills, both in instruments, languages, sports, and acting, but you weren’t a top trainee by any means. You stayed comfortably in the upper middle, a chance at debut but not too high, not too low to be kicked out, either.

You could dance well, of course, although you sometimes felt a burning pang of jealousy watching Momo dance. She was good at it, unreasonably so. It came so naturally to her. Like she didn’t even have to think about it.

and she was pretty, too. long black hair, black eyes you could drown in. You didn’t to stare too long. She was just.. noticeable. It’s not like she ever noticed. When she was dancing, the only thing that mattered was her reflection in the practice room mirror. Her friend, Sana, would glance at you once or twice, whenever you stared.

She knew.

you never noticed.

Practicing for the competition was obviously stressful, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You were determined, strong, not weak. You learned English, Japanese, played the piano, violin, you had kind of forgotten the flute but you could, once— you had skied since you were four, played tennis at six— you didn’t know, yet, but you would graduate high-school as valedictorian, taking the maximum amount of AP’s for the last four years.

You’d practice till you got a move, perfectly. You were the first to enter the practice room and the last to leave.

you know, contrary to what you’d think, your father’s money isn’t what got you into JYP, or their idol program, or SIXTEEN— well, maybe it played a part into getting you into JYP, but the rest was all you. All your “friends”, other kids you knew, same or richer than you, spent their time partying, shopping, crashing cars and drinking.

some, of course, worked like you. There were parents who didn’t care what their kids did, and parents who needed their children to be the paragons of perfection. Usually, the more high-class your parents were, the more in the public eye they were. Korean standards were strict, and if you didn’t mean it, you’d watch your family apologize for you on public television, renounce your name, and at times, wipe you from the will. Most kids got a pass, their parents pulled some strings, and they were free. But others? Well, the kids that were forced to work hard were usually the ones who had to pay a price.

you would not be disgraced like your sister. She lived in America, now, and you hadn’t contacted her in two years. Not like you missed her. Not like you counted.

“Momo, have you noticed that rich girl staring at you?” The dyed-brown haired girl questioned, twirling a pen in their shared dorm.

“What rich girl?” The long haired girl blinked, black hair dyed close to the same shade of her friend.

“The one sitting across from us? The one that the instructor always says you kind of look like,” she reminded, unimpressed, gesturing at her subtly with the pen.

“Why would she stare at me? She’s the daughter of some famous Korean businessman, we’re two random Japanese trainees,” Momo pointed out, causing Sana sigh and lean in a little closer.

“Momo, that’s not what I’m talking about! Even before she got moved to this dorm, she’s always looking at you. Maybe she’s jealous, you two are always getting compared to each other, after all, and I bet she feels threatened-” She rephrased, Momo’s eyes widening before she cut her off.

“Sana! Quiet down! She could hear you!”

“She’s Korean, Momo, she’s not going to know Japanese, let alone a dialect,” she pointed out, crossing her arms, flicking Momo on the forehead with an amused smile. “You know, I’m starting to think that time you hit your head really did have an effect on y-!”

“Actually, I’m fluent in both Japanese and English,” a cold voice piped up. “I don’t speak the dialects, but they’re understandable,” you added, shifting on the bunk-bed to rest on your hands, a carefully blank look on your face.

Sana turned to you in shock and embarrassment, and Momo pointed at her childishly, exclaiming, “I told you so!”

Sana and Momo had only been in Korea for about a year, at that point, and their Korean wasn’t exactly great.

“Ah.. I’m sorry..” Sana began, slowly, in Korean.

“I just told you, I speak Japanese. You don’t have to speak in Korean. That’s why they placed me here, though. To help you two with your Korean,” you informed, pronunciation sharp and undeniably the standard Tokyo-way of speaking.

“Right.. I’m sorry for talking about you,” Sana began, again, feeling a little humiliated, which made her a bit annoyed. She wasn’t a gossip or anything, you just stared at Momo a lot. It was noticeable. You two were constantly being compared to each other for your similarities in looks, after all.

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, with a wave of your hand. “I’m sure it seems like I stare a lot, but it’s just because I like to analyze the competition, not because I’m jealous of.. well, you two,” you voiced, regarding them both with an amused smile.

To be completely transparent, you were a little jealous of Momo. She was an absolutely amazing dancer. But of course, no one had to know that.

“You know we’re going to be on a survival show, don’t you?” you asked, with a tilted head and pointed stare.

“Well, yeah, we know.. but why am I competition?” Momo blinked, pointing at herself.

You let out a sharp, pointed laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You’re not a bad dancer, and don’t rank too low, either. It’s a seven member group. There’s not a lot of room to be mediocre,” your words were calculated, given sharply, seriousness gracing your words. Momo frowned, mood souring slightly at your clipped, dismissive tone. She didn’t notice, though, how serious you seemed— how some cutthroat ideology laced your words.

Sana did, though. As much as Sana presented herself as an airhead, she was unbelievably smart— especially with people. She knew intentions, how to talk to people, how to get what she wanted with words. You knew this, and recognized her for what she was— a clever, determined, but kind girl. She’d do what she needed to do to get what she wanted, of course, but she’d try to help you along as far as she could. It wasn’t clear to you, yet, if she’d give up her space to let someone else take it.

You weren’t sure you’d ever know.

“Anyway, I have some essays to finish. I’ll graduate this year,” you added, breaking the tension, laying on your bed and taking out your school laptop, beginning to write.

The two Japanese girls stared, dumbfounded, and quietly slinked out of the room after a few minutes. It was too awkward, and you seemed so unbothered, unflappable after that little display— some of the other trainees were intimidated by you, whispers of how you were only in this program to “challenge” yourself, or that it was sure you’d debut because of your father, or talents, or how you were the smartest trainee— all rumors, all untrue. You were placed here for a reason unknown to you, and didn’t even rank particularly high at the moment. You were slowly climbing the ranks, though, and had sat comfortably in fifth place by the time SIXTEEN started.

Although, you’re sure all those people who whispered about you in the halls would be shocked to learn that you’d never end up debuting in the nation’s girl group. A successful actress, of course, but an idol? That wasn’t your fate to have.

Right at the end of June, falling into early April is when filming began.

Your life became practicing, training, working out, practicing, showcasing, and only barely sleeping.

You were still in a dorm with Sana and Momo, although a fourth girl— Chaeyeon— happened to be there as well.

She was the first to be eliminated, though, and it was just you three again.

Sana and Momo had gotten very close with another, younger Japanese trainee named Mina. Mina was very pretty, and had done ballet, and you could already just feel she would debut.

You liked Mina. She was probably who you were closest with. She grew up pretty well off, as well, and did ballet. You could relate to her, and she was the only one you’d keep in touch with after the show.

It was getting harder and harder to believe you’d debut.

Nayeon and Jeongyeon would definitely debut— Mina would, too, along with probably Momo and Sana. Dahyun was really popular, as well as Tzuyu, and there were only seven spots. Jihyo was too good of a singer to be sure what the final lineup would be, and Chaeyoung would be a good rapper— it was all so confusing. It made you all the more desperate to prove yourself wrong, though, because a part of you knew, deep down, you wouldn’t debut. A week before the first day of filming, you had snuck out to the convenience store. It was dark, late at night— you had a craving. Your father smoked cigars, your mother drank vodka and whiskey— not mixed, of course.

you were just scraping 18, now, having graduated in February. You couldn’t legally have a drink, or even smoke till 19, but a part of you itched to try it, curious.

obviously, you weren’t going to risk ruining your image. You loitered around the store, scanning the aisles, but ultimately not buying anything, unable to find something worth possibly gaining weight for.

the managers had been particularly strict before the start of the show.

you went back to your dorm, still restless, and exhausted at the same time.

the life of a trainee was draining.

When SIXTEEN began, everything shifted. You and Momo were still dorming together, but Sana was moved with Mina and there were a lot of other changes.

you were becoming antsy and restless. Watching people get eliminated was taking a toll on you. You ate less, slept less, practiced more— it was getting to you.

momo had begun eating less. a lot less. You couldn’t afford to be worried, you had to focus on yourself.

What no one would tell you about a survival show is that bonds are fickle. You wanted to care about other people, but once you had gotten a taste of the applause, the fans, all the love that came with being in the spotlight— you got hooked.

you were popular among the fans, your skills weren’t bad, maybe you could really debut. It started worming it’s way into your head.

the hunger and exhaustion was making everyone a bit volatile, a bit too confrontational— you were guilty of it, too.

you refused to build any friendships, while you were there, but built a very strong rivalry with Momo.

Everything she did, you did, trying to do it better.

You’d practice at the same time, next to each other, giving backhanded compliments on form and criticism to each other’s footwork and lines

You’d try your best to outdo each other, fueled by the constant comparison and the fact that you two were almost never on the same team together.

but when Momo was eliminated, you felt your heart drop.

you told yourself it was good, less competition that way. But a part of you felt.. empty.

you practiced, going through the motions, but it felt wrong. It was all robotic. There was no passion or emotion, and for that, you were eliminated the ninth episode, along with another girl.

from there, you threw yourself back into acting. You made your acting debut about a year later, months after Twice had debuted.

no one would ever know, though, that you had watched of the rest of the episodes, and congratulated Mina on her debut, telling her you were happy the three of them (Mina, Sana, Momo) would get to debut together. You debated on telling Momo yourself, maybe heading to the practice rooms to do so, out of begrudging respect and happiness, but you never did.

and so began the next nine years.

year 1; mid-May, 2016 | Korea

you had just exited the JYP building, into the cool night of the city after light rainfall. May wasn’t ever too hot, an easy 70 degrees out. It was a bit cold, but that was nothing. It was maybe thirty minutes to twelve, the city sparkling like the stars that were drowned out by smoke and light pollution.

You leaned on the building, debating on whether or not to go out to eat or just go straight home. You were pushed out of your thoughts when you heard the doors open and close, glancing at the person exiting the building.

Momo. Hirai Momo, with light caramel hair, now, looking tired, in some casual practice outfit thrown together hastily.

she still looked good.

her eyes were dark, glancing at some message on her phone. The bright white light illuminated her face, and you were about to quietly slink away when you both made eye contact.

“Momo,” you began, always eager to get the first word in, but not sure what to say.

She stared at you, obviously recognizing you. “Y/n,” she greeted. “I heard you’ve made your acting debut. Congratulations,” she offered, and the Korean off her tongue didn’t sound exactly right to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I saw that you debuted. The song was good. Congratulations,” was your reply, tone polite. Momo knew that you and Mina still spoke, even going out to eat together whenever you both had the time, which wasn’t often.

“Thank you,” she replied back, and you hated how awkward everything felt.

“Well, I’m gonna g-”

“Do you want to come with me to the convenience store?” Momo asked, suddenly, immediately backtracking when your words registered. “If you have to go then go, don’t worry about it, nevermind,”

“I’ll go,” you agreed, not entirely sure why you did. “I haven’t eaten yet, anyway,”

the two of your walked a bit far off, entering the convenience store with a little chime and feeling the need to make conversation.

“So.. Momo, why are you practicing so late?” You asked, conversationally.

“We have so many albums and songs lined up, for this year.. we’re working on one right now. I’m sure Mina’s told you,” she murmured, voice low so as to not disturb anyone.

“She’s mentioned that you’re all.. busy,” you agreed, and you noticed how she looked thinner, more tired, somehow older in the span of a year.

she was still beautiful, of course, but you’ve been seeing beautiful people your whole life.

“Is it what you wanted?” You asked, forced lightness in your voice, though it might’ve come out more accusing than you wanted. It wasn’t her fault you got eliminated. Kind of.

She looked at you for a long time, fingers ghosting over some matcha candy you couldn’t name, parts of a life you probably wouldn’t ever see.

“I think it will be,” she replied, looking at the selection of green, instead of at you. the night was warmer on the walk back to your dorm. A grassy, slightly bitter taste sat comfortably in your mouth.

you’d have to start drinking matcha, more.

year 2; early November, 2017 | Korea

Likey had just dropped, and signal had won Twice international success. They were pushing Japan, doing promotions there so constantly you had half a mind to just ask them why they wouldn’t move there, and a nomination to the Korean Popular Culture and Arts Awards.

you were there too, of course, for your roles in a myriad of dramas, at that point.

You had been the lead role in “Strong girl Bonsoon” and “My Ghost” respectively. You were young, yes, 19, almost 20, now— but you had achieved amazing successes, just like the girls you sat near, now.

there was a reason there were almost no pictures of twice at the awards, and you couldn’t find their speeches.

You won, not unsurprisingly, as did Twice, and sat through the performances. You spoke to Mina, easily, but she went to go talk to Jihyo about something, at one point, and you couldn’t really remember or care— both you and Momo could drink now, and they were giving out free champagne.

as the performances closed, everyone had received their awards— you headed to the bathrooms. They were empty, and you stared at yourself in the mirror. Face flushed, hair and makeup still intact, though, black silk dress unmarred by any stains, something you’d bought just to prove to yourself you made it, had your own money now, didn’t need your parents—

the door opened, and Momo appeared inside. It took one glance and the sound of a lock clicking before her lips were on yours.

she tasted like good alcohol and something sweet, your hands in her perfectly styled hair. She pressed you against the wall, your pretty and pink lipstick mixing with her darker one, pulling apart after nearly a minute and a half, panting, your eyes dazed and dilated.

“you have an apartment now, right?” she murmured, breathless.

you did have an apartment, bought the second you turned 19, trying to prove you didn’t need your parents, still. You had made it, for fucks sake.

“I do,” you answered, and you both managed to make it there without any cameras flashing.

your apartment was near the Han river, a testament to your success. It was small, one bedroom, with a large-enough kitchen and spacious living room, large windows that let the city lights in.

the apartment was bathed in a cool, blue glow, by both the night sky, and the building outside the window.

You and Momo had stumbled into the space, hurriedly locking the door without breaking the kiss, barely making it to the bedroom. The apartment had large, wide windows, taking up nearly the entire wall. There were curtains, of course, but they were a bit sheer, and white. The lights of the city illuminated the dark room, letting your fingers fumble with the zipper of Momo’s dress, getting it off.

Her hair was mussed, and you were sure yours was the same, but you didn’t care, right now.

Lipstick stains adorned her mouth, the two of you having created a muted, glossy color, that would later become a favorite, then something you hated, to something you’d think about, fondly.

She took off your dress, carefully— it was Dolce and Gabbana— although hers was much the same, in the sense that it must’ve been designer, as well, although you didn’t bother to check the tag.

Both articles of clothing ended up sprawled on the wooden floor, anyway, forgotten.

you kissed her desperately, the two of you thoroughly lost in each other.

your skin burned, her hands feeling too hot, your brain slowly melting away every other worry other than her.

to be honest, you were a little too drunk to remember everything that had happened.

you kind of wished you did.

Waking up the next day at four thirty in the morning was rough. Running on two and a half hours of sleep, you groaned when you heard Momo’s alarm go off.

she didn’t wake, though, you had turned it off fairly quickly, and the alcohol mixed with the sex— the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, for some reason— had knocked her out cold.

you watched her, for a bit. Hirai Momo was beautiful, you’d always known that. You never really realized it till now, though. Soft, short brown hair, dyed, a peaceful expression, smooth skin bathed by cold light, in a mostly white space.

your apartment was sparsely decorated, feeling more like a museum than a home. You didn’t even call it home, just ‘the house’ or ‘the apartment’. There wasn’t any life to it. It wasn’t a place to get attached to.

You contemplated waking her up. You didn’t really want to, but you knew you had to.

“Momo,” you murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. “Momo, you have to wake up,”

She groaned, turning, screwing her eyes shut. “No.. I’m tired,” was her muttered response, and you could barely even tell if she was speaking korean or japanese (it was japanese, she had only been in korea five years at that point. that’s not enough time to completely switch languages).

“Momo, your alarm went off, you need to get up,” you urged, speaking in japanese in hopes it’d get through her head, better.

She let out a sound of protest, but opened her eyes, sitting up. “What time is it?” She muttered, running a hand through her hair. The both of you weren’t wearing clothes, obviously, but the sight of her was still a little much for so early in the morning.

“It’s fifteen minutes to five,” you informed.

“I have to be at Inkigayo at five thirty,” she exclaimed, eyes widening. “Oh god,” she cursed, under her breath, distressed.

“Look, you can borrow some of my clothes. No one’s gonna know it’s mine,” you muttered. “You can keep it, so we never get caught for sharing clothes. Plus, the worst that could happen is we say you slept over because I invited you to go eat, or something.. it doesn’t matter, we’re two girls anyway,” you explained.

Momo stared at you, dumbfounded, still processing the words that came out of your mouth before agreeing. “Okay, yeah.. can I use your shower?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant when she was naked in your bed, and looked too fucking good for having just woken up. Fuck those instructors, you definitely did not look like Hirai Momo. You wished you did.

you handed her a simple pair of pink sweatpants and a dark red hoodie. They weren’t things you had actually worn, yet, just thought they were cute. Momo wasn’t too far from your height, anyway, so they fit fine.

She showered, changed, and it wasn’t that long of a drive to Inkigayo, and a taxi could probably get her there in fifteen minutes.

it was 5:15, now, and she was drying her hair on the balcony. You had also gifted her a pair of white sneakers, to complete the outfit. It fit their concept, anyway.

you were on the balcony, too, watching the sunrise with a Bohem Cigar Shake hanging out of your mouth, lit.

Momo didn’t smoke, you had learned when you offered her one. She didn’t like the smell.

truth be told, you weren’t the biggest fan, but these were sweet, they left an aftertaste in your mouth a lot of people hated, but you kinda liked it.

You put it out on an ashtray once you accidentally burnt your finger tip, sucking on the mark and snubbing the cigarette out with your other hand.

Momo gave you a slightly concerned look, but you assured her you were fine.

she left in your clothes (no one would ever know, just you and her members) into a taxi you paid for, to perform at a music show you’d watch.

you and momo met on and off for the rest of that year, between promotions and award shows and restaurants and going shopping with Mina and taking pictures together and her visiting you on set—

the public called you great friends.

at least they didn’t see where her hands tended to rest.

year 3; mid-February, 2018 | Japan

you were 20, officially.

Twice had begun their Japanese tour, releasing Candy Pop a week into February.

the 14th was the Gaon chart music awards, which twice attended, of course.

you were still filming some dramas in Korea, but had managed to get time off to go to Japan. For no other reason than the fact Japan was beautiful in February, of course. It’s not like you attended the Gaon chart music awards to see Momo— no, Sunmi had released some good music, too, and of course you were friendly with all of twice.

the after parties for the awards were always fun.

“Momo, wait,” you murmured, breathily, pressed up against some wall in the buildings seemingly-millions of bathrooms.

“What?” she blinked, deep brown eyes blown wide, staring deep into your own.

“I didn’t.. it’s. I got you something,” you admitted, quietly. You handed her a small, dark red box, that you had kept in the small black bag you had taken.

you were wearing 2017 MiuMiu, a black minidress that your stylist had complemented with pearls and silver, tightening the waist and removing some of the collar. What was left was a striking black dress, soft fabric, and a lower neckline, paired with, of course, a vintage black MiuMiu leather handbag.

“Open it,” you instructed, to which the other girl did, to reveal two Mikimoto pearl earrings, having 18kt gold yellow gold posts. You had found it at an auction, they weren’t relatively expensive— $500– and from ten years prior. You thought they’d suit her, and so you bought it.

she just stared at you, a bit surprised, dumbfounded—

“Why’d you get me this?” were the words that slipped out from her mouth. She had the same shade of lipstick on, this time liquid, and your lips were colored with a pink gloss, girlish.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” You laughed, amused, tilting your head. “It’s the fourteenth of February,”

“You got me a gift for valentines?” She clarified, slowly, recoiling, a grimace slowly morphing onto her face.

you noticed, of course.

“No,” you lied, easily. “For the win,”

you both knew it wasn’t true, but allowed yourselves to indulge in the lie just a little more.

you two were just high off the high-life, making it big for the first times in your life.

momo left your hotel room before you saw her in the morning.

the note; “早退してごめんなさい。コンサートがあったんだ。” (sorry for leaving early. there was a concert)

you knew there was no concert the fifteenth of February. momo was a horrible liar, but you knew, later, from photos, they were in an airport that day.

you never asked to where.

(It wasn’t a question, but she did send you a silver-chain necklace, a pearl-heart pendant, march 14th. you hadn’t taken it off)

year 4; early August, 2019 | Korea

you were nearly 21, now.

“Momo, who the fuck is Heechul?” you spat, looking at a news article. The girl, who now had black wavy hair, a little lower than her shoulder, was currently lounging in your bed. Promotions for Dance the Night Away had just started, and she looked better than ever.

Her eyes widened, and she sat up, looking hurt and a little panicked. You never spoke to her like this, not since Sixteen, and you both rarely spoke in Korean, anymore.

“What do you mean? He’s just a friend-”

“Don’t lie to me,” you cut in, sharply. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I gave you those earrings, Momo. Why?” you demanded, the anger masking all the hurt you felt.

she was silent, for a bit, drawing into herself, looking to the side and holding her arms.

“We can’t be anything more than this,” she murmured.

“What?”

“I have a career. I have a group, I can’t just.. leave it all,”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, a little high pitched.

“We should stop. You.. you like me too much,” she decided. “It’s safer if I’m.. you know, with a guy. It won’t be favorable, but it’ll get people off us both. People talk too much, nowadays,” she continued.

“I mean.. it’s just that.. you know, we’re both girls. That’ll ruin both of our careers. And I like being an idol. I won’t.. I won’t just give it up,”

“Momo, are you serious?” You exclaimed, shocked. “You’re refusing to see me, when we’ve been pretending to be just friends for over three years now, and instead.. you’re gonna date some guy? Momo, that could ruin your career, too! No one knows about us, I haven’t told anyone! Why are you being so-“

“It won’t be as bad as if it were us two,” she reminded, pointedly and acidly. “Not all of us have a rich family to fall back on. I had to work to get here. I will not give it all up just because you want to.. to play around, and pretend we’re in love!” She cried, aggravated.

you stared in shock. You didn’t even know what to say, the whole reason you refused to use your parents was your desperation to be independent from them.

you knew what they’d do to you if they found out what you were.

you didn’t want to have to rely on them, in case they ever found out.

you didn’t want to be like your sister.

“That’s not fair, Momo. You don’t-“

“I do!” She shot back. “I do, this is fair! This is my life, this is my career, you don’t get to tell me what I should do! Just- god!” She shouted, throwing her hands in the air, collecting her things. She got dressed, fixed her hair quickly into a bun, and stormed out of your apartment.

“Don’t contact me again,” were her low, parting words.

year 5; early January, 2020 | Korea

you had just turned 21 a little bit ago. the rest of 2019 had been absolute hell. you saw Momo everywhere you went— on advertisements, on tv, heard her on the radio.

and now, New Year’s Day, it was confirmed that she was dating Heechul.

you were in your apartment, still mostly empty save for a few things you had bought for her— like a tea kettle, an assortment of matcha flavored snacks, a second toothbrush—

everything hurt.

you did the only thing you could think to do.

you called your sister.

it was eleven something in the morning in New York, she’d have to pick up.

“Hello? Y/n, why the hell are you calling m-“

she was cut off by the sound of a choked sob, more like a hacking, and a shaky inhale.

“I get it now,” were your broken, pained words. “I fucking get it now,”

“Oh, y/n,” she murmured, quietly.

“I’m so sorry,”

10 years prior; late September, 2010 | Korea

“I’m gay. I have a girlfriend,” were the earth-shattering words your sister, freshly 18, had dropped on the shoulders of you and your parents in the middle of a family dinner.

“You’re what?” Your mother asked, slowly, giving her time to play it off. She stood, steadfast.

“I’m gay. I have a girlfriend,” she repeated, clearly.

Your father and mother stared at her, for a long while. You didn’t really know what would happen, yet— you had never heard your parents even mention their opinion on homosexuality, but there’s no way they’d care, right? It didn’t really matter-

“Get out,” were your fathers cold, flat words.

your sister nodded, once, clenching her jaw. She packed her things, appearing back downstairs within twenty minutes. (she had already packed the day prior. She knew how this would go).

“Wait, why does she have to leave? I don’t-“

“She’s not your sister anymore,” your mother informed, curtly.

“She’s not apart of this family anymore,” your dad restated.

“But.. why?” You asked, barely 13.

“It’s unnatural, and bad for the family image. It’s not good for us,”

you didn’t really think that was enough reason to kick a child out. But you couldn’t argue.

your sister left, that day, passing you her number secretly.

you didn’t have a bad relationship with your sister.

but for a few years, you refused to talk to her. You would not disgrace the family, you would not give up everything—

you just couldn’t understand why she give up a cushy life of luxury to go to school in New York, all for some girl.

“You’ll understand when your older,” she’d tell you, quietly, over the phone, when you both still got the chance to talk— before you had become paranoid of getting kicked out, like her.

“One day, you’ll meet someone you’ll love. You’ll love them, to the point that nothing matters as long as you’re together,”

“I don’t think I will,” you’d reply, so sure. “That’s stupid,”

“It is, isn’t it?” She’d laugh.

“You’ll get it, though, one day,”

you had flown to America, right in the beginning of 2020.

you went to New York, to live with your sister for a bit— you just needed to be around family— family that wasn’t your parents. you got an offer to shoot a drama there, anyway.

you had no idea you’d end up stuck in america for nearly a year, due to Covid.

whatever, you’d think.

not like you’d have anyone to come back to in Korea.

In America, you were more free.

no one particularly cared what anyone was doing— you couldn’t go out, and you were alone in the apartment you had rented.

your sister would come over with her girlfriend— now, wife, because you could get married, here— sometimes, but not often.

you smoked camels, now, unfiltered, by the balcony, overlooking a city so much the same and too different.

you texted Mina, a lot. She kept you updated.

you both made a point not to talk about Momo.

the necklace Momo had gifted you was left in your jewelry box in korea.

the house was a perfect snapshot of your life, then, untouched by changes.

it was a picture frozen in time.

god, fuck this place.

year 6; late June, 2021 | Japan

you were 22, now, having made it back to Korea in late may after finishing your drama, finally getting everything together and back to your apartment in early June. Your return was publicized, there were a few people who still came to the airport even with all the restrictions, but you had made it back to your country.

it had really helped, to get it all out, put everything in perspective.

you still smoked camels, now you drank tequila— the remnants were mementos of a life most people wouldn’t see.

you flew to Japan, though— you had the prospect of an ambassadorship, and they wanted you to fly over, for some reason.

you messaged Mina about it— maybe you two could meet up, go eat. you hadn’t seen her in a while. you spoke, gave her your hotel and room number, and you both agreed to see if you could schedule it.

the next day after you'd messaged her, there was a knock on your door.

you thought it’d be Mina.

Momo had shorter black hair now. It suited her.

Momo had hurt you.

you cried for at least three weeks. She seemed happy enough when you saw her through a screen. she was still with Heechul. She shouldn’t be here.

you opened the door.

momo’s eyes were watery, and she looked up at you, pleadingly.

“Y/n,” she began, voice shaky.

“What do you want?” You snapped, even though you didn’t really mean to.

“We broke up,” were her words. You stopped, for a second. You knew what this was. You were her rebound.

“I-“

“When I saw you came back, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, y/n,” she murmured, crying now. “I didn’t want- I- I just.. I was so scared. But, I just- I can’t- it’s been too long. I can’t keep going without you, I need you, I..”

you pulled her inside, shutting the door, locking it, and pressing her against it. You hadn’t forgotten how her hair felt in your hands, soft and silky, how she always tasted a bit sweet.

people said she was a peach, but she didn’t exactly taste like it.

except for when she wore the peach lipgloss you got her, one time, as a joke.

she ran a hand through your hair, tugging on the strands, pulling you closer. god, she kind of reminded you of herself.

her tears made the kiss taste salty.

this time was different. it was not slow, it had no love in it. she had hurt you, she had left you, and now she was crawling back.

you left marks where no one but her would see. you ran your teeth over her pulse point, but never bit down.

your kisses were bruising and filled with anger and resentment.

this was a bad idea.

this was always going to be a bad idea.

it was only around 11 when you had both felt too tired, resigning yourself to sleep.

momo had hated sleeping alone, without you.

she pressed her face into your neck, eyes screwed shut. you felt a little bad, despite yourself. you had been a bit mean..

“Momo, go to sleep,” you spoke, softly, carding a hand through her short black hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for leaving. please don’t-”

“It’s okay,” you interjected, because you really didn’t want to have to hear the rest of her words. “I don’t have a schedule tomorrow, anyway,” which was not true, you had to go discuss the drama you were shooting at one in the afternoon, but you weren’t telling her that.

they weren’t the exact words she wanted to hear, but they were as close as you could get, right now.

you ran a hand through her hair, as her arm stayed around your waist. she was clinging onto you, like you’d disappear.

you probably should, to get back at her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to quit.

momo was kind of like every bad habit you couldn’t quit— smoking, drinking— they weren’t good for you, but they made you feel better.

she was addictive, like that.

but here, in your hotel room bed, kind of like last place you saw her, now the first time you’ve seen her in almost a year and a half—

she kind of seemed like something you really couldn’t live without.

July 8th, 2021 | Japan

they had flown back to Korea the day prior. You were still in Japan, when you saw the article.

momo and heechul had finally announced their break up to the public.

good, you thought.

you had gone out to eat with Mina a week ago, you both talked about your lives— work, vacations, how busy you both were. you asked about her members.

July 1st, 2021

“How is everyone?” you asked, with a tilted head.

“Everyone’s good, I’m happy we’re back in Japan, I got to see my parents, so did Sana, so did..”

“you can say her name, you know,” you muttered.

“Listen, y/n, I’ve tried not to get involved, but this isn’t good for you two. After you left, Momo could barely sleep. She ate less, too, and she still had to go on dates with Heechul to make it look real. She didn’t even really want to date him, she was just-”

“I know, Mina. But- you know, it’s not up to me. She’s too scared to be with me. She doesn’t really love me,” you chuckled, though it was more bitter than amused.

“I think she does,” she replied. “I just don’t think she’s realized it yet,”

year 7; late May, 2022 | Korea

“Momo!” you called, just a few months into being 23.

you had decided to pick up Momo from the airport.

now, fans would never know, but you just really wanted to see her.

she had been in the U.S. for months, now, touring, and you had missed her.

even with all your miscommunication you both still met up, sometimes— you visited your sister as an excuse when they held their concert in New York City.

you did meet with Momo, after the show.

“How was America?” You asked, in english, as she got into the car. She looked tired, her hair now ash-blue and a little longer.

“Good,” was her response, a tired smile under the mask.

she coughed, and you glanced at her, a bit worried.

“Nayeon and Tzuyu are sick, too,” she mumbled. “Can you take me to the apartment?”

and so you did, the apartment she shared with Nayeon. You helped her with the luggage, and you tried to kiss her but she moved her face— she didn’t want you sick.

Nayeon, Momo, and Tzuyu all tested positive for Covid-19 the following day.

To no one’s surprise, you tested positive for Covid as well, but with very mild symptoms that felt more like an annoying cold.

you obviously couldn’t go to any filmings or schedules, and Mina ended up positive too—

so you drove to Momo’s apartment with soup. Like a lovesick idiot.

Nayeon let you in, and you knew better than to not bring her some soup as well. You handed it to her, and went straight to Momo’s room.

she looked.. sick. coughing, exhausted, you were sure she was achey and had a headache.

her fever wasn’t too bad, on account of all the medication she was taking.

“Momo?” you called, running a hand through the girls hair. “I made you soup,”

she sat up, blearily, looking a little hazy.

“I’ll get you sick,” she mumbled.

“I’m already sick, don’t worry,” you assured.

you fed her the soup, because you were that painfully whipped, talking quietly about what you had been doing since they went on tour.

you made her take some Tylenol, because her face felt hotter when you put the back of your hand to her forehead.

you got up to leave, but she grabbed your hand, tugging you back like a child.

“can you stay?” she mumbled, looking at you pleadingly. you would never say no, of course.

it’s not like you had something better to do.

for the rest of the time you were sick, you would visit Momo, watch dramas with her, sleep in her bed, next to her— you both acted so much like a couple Nayeon pulled you aside after almost a week.

“Y/n, I don’t know how long this thing with Momo has been going on, exactly, but it looks like you make her happy, so.. thank you. It’s been a lot, lately, with touring and Heechul.. take care of her, okay?”

she walked off before you could explain that, no, you two weren’t dating, and you were scared that if you asked her to date you she’d run away again.

you had to go shoot some drama, again, even if you really didn’t want to, after you tested negative.

you both got busy, after that. Especially you— you had so many dramas to film.

February 8th, 2022

@OT9TRANS … BUBBLE MESSAGE 🍑💬 220208 MM: I have watched Call, watched Burning, watched Nothing Serious, and Money Heist. I have watched them all🫠❤︎ MM: i really like y/n l/n nim ♡ She’s my style 🫣

year 8; early January, 2023 | Korea

it was your 24th birthday party— you had turned 24 in winter of last year, but this was the only day you could make it work, because Twice had another tour starting in February.

You invited them, all 9, to noraebang— karaoke. obviously, some of your own friends came, too. You had made a lot of friends in the industry after so many years.

Momo’s hair was still black, grown out a bit more, but not as long.

you all sang and drank— Nayeon, particularly, having a good time singing every Twice song she could.

you sat next to Momo, pleasantly tipsy, and everything felt warm.

it was a little crowded, but you had rented a bigger space than normal. It was dim, the only lights coming from the screen in front of you.

after a little bit, you slipped outside. The place you rented had a rooftop, and you planned to make full use of it.

The skyline had changed from 8 years prior. It used to have less buildings, smaller skyscrapers— now it almost seemed as if the blue and red lights of the city were truly the stars in the sky.

You lit up a cigarette, this time, Cheyenne peach, and took a drag.

you heard a metal door open and shut.

Momo sat down next to you, and you offered her a drag.

she wrinkled her nose.

“They smell, y/n, why do you still smoke them?”

“Just a bad habit, I guess,” you shrugged.

she plucked it out of your mouth, tossing it to the side.

“It’s bad for you,” she chided.

how ironic, for her to say that.

“There’s a lot of things that are bad for me that I still do,” you replied, quietly.

she was silent, for a second.

she held your face, pulling you closer. She tasted like soju, which is to say smooth alcohol, of which you’ve been drinking the whole night.

it was sweeter than usual, because you can’t stand bitter tastes, and you noticed Momo was wearing nearly the same shade of lipstick as six years ago

your hands held her waist, loosely, the both of you sitting back on your heels, only leaning forward for each other.

when Momo pulled away, you felt a little dazed.

“I don’t want to be bad for you,” she mumbled, and all these years had seemed so childish— just two girls, trying to figure it out. You never wanted to hurt each other. It was just fear, and maybe a little shame, and so much love that it nearly drowned you.

“Momo,” you began, quietly. You knew that what you were going to tell her would force her away from you forever, but you didn’t care.

“I love you,”

the confession hung in the air, ringing through resounding silence. Seoul in January was cold, and your breaths could be seen in the air.

when Momo didn’t reply, you felt tears well in your eyes even if you knew this is how it would be.

“I’m sorry,” were your nexts words, and when you hiccuped, Momo finally broke out of her daze.

she screwed her eyes shut, snaking her hand to your nape, pulling you into her, kissing you desperately.

“no, don’t apologize,” she muttered, between gasps for air.

“I love you, y/n. I love you,”

it felt like the world stopped, in that second.

“I’m sorry for.. being scared, but I’m not anymore. I love you,” she repeated, wiping the tears from your eyes, thumb caressing your face.

“Really?” you asked, hope and fear mixing into your words. This could just be some cruel joke, after all, it could-

“y/n,” she said, seriously. “I love you,”

you leaned in again, and it was softer, now, feeling a year roll down your cheek, not from sadness but from relief, and happiness.

“God, Momo,” you choked out. “I love you so much,”

you both stayed like that, for a little under half an hour, telling each other all the things you wished you had so many years ago, making hopeful promises and swearing never to hurt each other again.

“Here,” Momo said, suddenly, producing another small box.

it was a beautiful silver chain bracelet, with a little pink gemstone in the center in the shape of a small star.

momo had the same bracelet on her wrist, though the gemstone was in your favorite color and the chain was in gold.

“Happy birthday, y/n,” she offered, putting the bracelet on your wrist.

you smiled, genuinely, eyes crinkling. You pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, softly, before a teasing smile worked its way onto your face.

“You’re beautiful, too, so do you think you could be my gift, instead?”

that comment earned you a slap on the shoulder and a chiding ‘yah’, but it gave you the view of Momo’s face flushing pink, and the sound of her infectious laugh.

“If you ask nicely, I’ll consider it,” was her response, in the end.

you and Momo were definitely dating, now, and you leaned your head forward, resting your forehead on hers.

“How do you say girlfriend in Japanese?”

Momo’s cheeks turned a little pink, again, and she was well aware you already knew, but she indulged you. It was your birthday, after all. “恋人” she mumbled, but you knew well enough. (lover)

a smile grew on your face.

“I know you already know Korean well enough, so you shouldn’t call anyone else 자기야 but me, okay?” you informed, mostly joking.

“Sure,” she agreed, smile blooming on her face at the thought of you calling her your girlfriend. “Anything you want,”

year 9; early April, 2024 | Korea

Momo’s black hair had stayed the same for almost two years or so.

it was still a bit short, but you didn’t really care.

you were 25, now, didn’t smoke anymore, having been dating Momo officially for nearly a year.

You two had actually gone on a date— you had been commenting on each other’s Instagram jokingly for weeks now. Her fans had been convinced she would “not pull” with her.. strange choice emojis, but they didn’t know you had already fallen head over heels for the loser you were currently sat next to.

you went to go get something to eat, with her, and it was still a little cool in Seoul.

you took photos, together— and posted them— something you would’ve been terrified to do a few years prior, fearing a dating scandal or something worse— the destruction of your careers.

your worlds weren’t as scary, anymore. Twice had been around nearly 10 years, and you had been acting for the same amount of time. The public loved you, and though you didn’t feel like announcing your relationship status to the world, (you were both private, like that) it was nice to know that if anything were to come to light, you and Momo would be safe. Korea had gotten a lot more accepting, over the years.

your parents were still the same, though they had become less strict about it. Your sister came home, sometimes, and your mother might actually love her girlish and kind wife more than her own daughter.

you made jokes about it, frequently.

your dad didn’t know about Momo, neither did your mom— your sister did, but after what happened to her, she wouldn’t force you to tell them. You didn’t think your parents would freak out, demand you to leave and disown you— but you didn’t want to risk it.

on breaks, you and Momo would visit Japan, or any other city she wanted to go to.

if she had a fashion week schedule, well, you’d try to go! Especially as a fellow ambassador of MiuMiu. The public knew you both as close friends, so any antics were now ignored and written off as just friendship.

honestly, your house was better, now, because of her. The apartment was no longer something not lived in, out of a catalog—it was filled with little reminders of you two.

photos of each other, your achievements on a bookshelf, a tea kettle you’d thought Momo would like, her clothes she’d leave there, plants you thought would make the place look better, little knickknacks from traveling, a second toothbrush—

it felt like a home, full of little curios and plants, a reminder of the life you loved with Momo.

and now, as you sat next to her on the couch the two of you had bought together, under warm lighting and lights of the city outside the window, so much different than the one from the skyline eight years ago, completely different buildings but the same cool, multicolored glow, taking pictures for an Instagram post that others would call like it was, a “date”, but never know how real it really was—

you pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling into it, as she took the photo.

she turned to you, an amused expression on her face, albeit a bit surprised, perfectly tinged the pink shade of the lipstick you used to wear—

“What was that for? You know we can’t post that-”

“I love you,” you interrupted, with a stupid smile on your face.

“I love you too, silly, but we still can’t-”

you cut her off, again, pressing a kiss to her lips, discarding the phone, somewhere, smiling as you cupped her face in your hands.

those pictures, of you two kissing? They wouldn’t be posted.

the rest would, of course, a day late— you had gotten a bit sidetracked.

it didn’t matter, though.

you truly, irrevocably, loved Hirai Momo. She was beautiful, talented, funny, kind— you could keep going, there were a million and one reasons to love her.

but for some reason, she loved you back.

A/N: hi guys!! I had been thinking about this plot line for actual weeks but I managed to finish this in 10 days.. crazy.. I only started actually working on it 3 days ago though LMFAO

so.. there was a lot of research put into this fic. I tried to make the timeline as close to the one in real life as possible, but obviously there will be some inconsistencies. y/n is momo’s fav actress if you could not tell.. I wonder why

i don’t exactly love how this fic came out— I kind of lost the plot and repeated myself a lot. it actually came out completely different than how I originally imagined, which is why the song doesn’t exactly match? but I hope you enjoyed!

I will hopefully be posting more frequently.. I have a few things in mind, but my works take me a long time because I usually set them up, get the plot, then sit down and finish like 8k words in two or three days.

not beta read, I’m tired, maybe tomorrow.

please feel free to send asks and reqs! I love talking to you all <33 id love to know what you think..

I must sleep, now. goodnight, byebye!! ><

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

hiii I would like headcanons for the bedroom leaders (if there are many, then only riddle, azul, vil and malleus) reacting to the interpretation of their darling singing and acting the solo of noel's lament from the ride cyclone because for a long time mc wanted to interpret it and did her best~ (I'm obsessed with this musical especially with this solo aaa) thank you and have a good day <33

Rendition of Noel’s Lament | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

The situation has to be very very very specific for you to be able to pull this off. Maybe a talent show or the film club’s go at show production; either way they need you to perform. Of course you’re admirers are more than happy to hear what you’d like to sing even if you can’t sing at all. But they certainly weren’t expecting this:

Riddle Rosehearts

“I-I never-! W-what are they doing w-with their hips!?”

He’s horrified and turned on

Before he’s skeptical of the ballad likeness with vulgar lyrics

Taken off guard once you get to the chorus

But at least he got to witness it

When he finally becomes aware he’ll surely start collaring all those watching as well

If anyone’s going to reprimand your naughty behavior it will be him and only him

“I’ll have to see that performance again, I need to see that again! For punishment obviously!” 

Azul Ashengrotto

“Oh my–!”

He’s mostly just enamored with this sexy bizarre light that he’s taken you in

That or he already imagined this is exactly what you’d do when given the opportunity

But perhaps he can monetize this 

And secure more private showings

Tone down the performance a bit

And we’re in business

“Perhaps you’d be willing to sign your legs open and voice to me?”

Vil Schoenheit

“Of course they’re a performer…”

He’s torn between being entertained and upset

On one hand he’s just pleased your so much as gracing the stage

On the other he’s mad he’s not the only on to witness this

Without an obvious sign that you are his

No matter he can fix that easily 

As he makes himself your costume designer, makeup artist, and future husband stylist 

Dedicated to making sure the eyes of those rotten potatoes are well aware of his ownership

“Don’t I have my work cut out for me.”

Malleus Draconia

“Finally, a performance from my dearest!” 

He for one doesn’t find a problem with the lyrics because he doesn’t know what they mean+ 

To him its a story that is probably beautiful artistry from your world

Though he will not allow anyone but him to watch

It is his treasure to see you dance and sing your heart out 

As he fantasizes about your definite future

If the onlookers have a problem leaving he doesn’t mind giving them a taste of the prickly briars in their loathsome eyes

“Yes my jewel, keep dancing!”

[tomuchabotme]

The way that armys have these 'official' opinions that everyone is supposed to follow is so annoying. Can't they just let people have their own opinions? Cause what do you mean people are not allowed to say Jimin is the best dancer in the group because the 'official' answer is supposed to be J-Hope and you're going against army's rules if you have the 'wrong' opinion?

And I call it 'official' because it's coming from the group itself. The group has these set answers that they always give and their answer to anything dance related is to say "J-Hope!" over and over again as if Jimin is also not a main dancer. That's why there's this misconception that Jimin is only a lead dancer, because with the way the group talks you would think J-Hope has a superior dance position in the group than Jimin and since people know J-Hope is a main dancer they then assume that must mean Jimin is just a lead.

And this all bullshit because these set answers are not even the real opinions of all the members. From example, Jin is supposed to be the answer to any visual related question but some members have talked about finding other members more good looking. And when it comes to vocals we know Jungkook is supposed to be the right answer but Yoongi has admitted to preferring Jimin. But it doesn't matter if they have different opinions, they still stick with these same answers they've been giving for years.

Them acting like J-Hope is a more important dancer to the group is annoying in the same way that Jimin being constantly threatened to be kicked out of the group only to debut as lead vocalist and main dancer is annoying. Because for someone that is not the most important dancer they sure like to give him all the most difficult parts in their choreographies. They sure love to rely on him to get people's attention and given him more center time than J-Hope.

Also for someone who's treated like he's the inventor of dancing, J-Hope sure doesn't dance a lot does he? Cause why does he refuse to dance to his own music? Not once has he had a full choreography for any of his solo songs. Even Jungkook has some, but Jimin is the only member who you can always trust to have a full choreography. If you went to a BTS concert Jimin was the only member that you would get to see actually dance outside of the group songs. He was also the only member people got to see dance live at MMA 2019, since he was the only one who did it live instead of pre-recorded.

And speaking of Korean shows like MMA, Jimin was also the member that would most often participate in dance performances separate from the group. Like when he danced with all those idols at SBS 2016 or when he danced with Taemin at KBS 2017. Just in general he participated in dance performances more than either J-Hope or Jungkook. He did a solo dance to 'Butterfly' at KBS 2015. Did 'Lie/Boy Meets Evil' with J-Hope at MAMA 2016. Did the coming of age ceremony with Jungkook in 2016. Did a 'Black or White' and 'Youth' dance cover with Jungkook and J-Hope respectively, both in 2018. And then there's all of Black Swan. The solo dance in the MV, the other solo dance on MOTS ON:E, and the intro at MMA 2020 that they all participated in but he (and to a lesser extent Jungkook) was definitely the focus of. Jungkook and J-Hope would occasionally be part of these performances but Jimin is the only one that would always be there. It's either all three of them, Jimin and J-Hope, Jimin and Jungkook or just Jimin by himself. But not matter which one, Jimin is always there.

You have all of these things: him having the most difficult parts of their choreographies, him being the member that participates in dance-only performances the most, and him being the only one to always have full choreographies for his solo songs. You have all of these yet I'm supposed the believe that J-Hope is the real main dancer of the group and Jimin is basically just a lead? All because the group keeps acting like that's the truth?

Well, you see, the problem is that if you pay attention you'll notice that BTS's words and actions don't always match. Like, they can say that all members are equally talented and equally valued, but then you listen to their music and watch their performances and you realize that some members are consistently given way less than others. Am I really supposed to believe that they actually think Jin is as talented as Jungkook? Cause it sure doesn't look like that when every line in a song they could give to Jin they decide to give to Jungkook instead and on stage Jin is gonna spend 90% of the performance behind everyone else while Jungkook is always in the front. But sure, they're both equally valued in the group, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

The truth is that BTS will sometimes say things that don't match reality. And a example of that is their insistence in acting like J-Hope is a more important dancer than Jimin despite the fact that when you look at it you'll notice that Jimin is the one actually doing all the dancing. And people notice that. Armys can go online and say J-Hope is better but we all know who everybody prefers. The same way we know people prefer Taehyung's visuals over Jin's. The same way armys will say rapline's music is the best then proceed to not listen to it. It's all juts talk. Cause every single time Jimin and J-Hope have danced in the same stage Jimin is the one everyone was looking at and talking about.

What do people remember from the times Jimin and J-Hope did a dance-only performance at the same place? MAMA 2016? Jimin dancing to 'Lie' while blindfolded. MMA 2018? Jimin's fan dance he got an award for. MMA 2019? Jimin's 'I Need U' dance where only he did it live. And what about J-Hope? Did anyone care about the supposed 'best dancer'? How many people outside of his fans (not even armys, but his own fans) remember what BTS song he used for his MMA 2019 solo? I looked it up and it was everyone's favorite song that is perpetually close to a billion streams 'Fake Love'. But do you remember what that performance looked like? Probably not. But we all remember 'I Need U'.

Do you remember what J-hope's performances of 'MAMA', 'JUST DANCE', 'EGO', 'MORE' and 'ARSON' looked like? Or how much dancing was even in any of them? But even if you're not a Jimin fan, you'll remember 'Lie' (as will all the dozen of idol that covered it), 'Serendipity', 'Filter' (which made everybody lose their mind with only two online performances), 'Set Me Free Pt.2', 'Like Crazy' and 'Who'. And that's because 'Face-off' was robbed of a live performance and I'm convinced the reason Jimin didn't perform 'Be Mine' live is because he's waiting until he can has enough time to give it a choreography, because Filter's younger sister deserves nothing less.

I think J-hope's allergy to dancing to his own songs shows a clear difference between him and Jimin. It's not that he can't dance, and he did technically dance for his latest album, but that was only in the documentary and I doubt any of the songs will have actual choreos when he performs them. No, I think the problem is that for J-Hope his dancing and his songs are separate and he doesn't know how to combine them. But unfortunately for him, combining songs with dancing is one of the most important things in k-pop, and he's still part of a k-pop group performing to an audience of k-pop fans. And that's why his dancing is not as liked as Jimin's, because even if you wanna say he's technically a better dancer that Jimin (which is debatable), that still wouldn't matter because Jimin is simply a better idol.

They're not in a dance competition performing to a panel of judges, they're in a idol group preforming to people who mostly don't know about the technicalities of dancing. People don't care about who's technically better, they care about who's dancing looks better and more interesting. And Jimin's dancing has always been more captivating. He always fully embodies the mood and meaning of the songs, no matter how wildly different those songs can be. He let's the music speak through his body and puts a lot of emotion behind it. He adds his own little flairs to the choreographies and has a distinct style that's very different from the rest of k-pop. And he also always gives it 150% percent, regardless of if that makes it look like he's outdancing the other members.

And all of that is why people prefer Jimin. And armys can say J-Hope is better and complain about how it's not fair that Jimin is the most popular dancer in k-pop because "Jimin already has so much more than J-Hope, why can't J-Hope have this one thing?", but like armys themselves like to say to the fans of other groups, this isn't charity, if we can give Jimin everything we 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 give him everything.

🎯🎯

[deathbxnny]

hello! can you do headcanons of jing yuan, blade, dan heng and luocha with a nilou like s/o? not necessarily a dancer could be any other art that embodies beauty, just her peaceful nature, positivity, innocense and kindness and wanting to make other's happy? thank you alot!

-----♡

A/N: Hello! Thank you for the request! I absolutely love the idea! It's so cute!<33

Content: Established relationship, fluff, dancer reader, romance, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

This man is absolutely whipped for you, that's for sure. He loves absolutely everything about you.

Your innocence and kindness is exactly what he needs as a general with hard and long hours of work. You motivate him to give his all and best everyday. You motivate him to wake up in the mornings with your gentleness and positivity. Your existence motivates him to breathe.

He is proud to have you at his side, always flaunting you to his coworkers and showing you off at any given moment. Who would not be jealous of the general, when he has such a great s/o?

Jing Yuan adores your dances more than life itself at times. He attends absolutely every single performance, no matter how nusy he actually is, and enjoys every second of it.

In fact, he makes sure everyone watches them as well with his influence, promoting your art so well, that absolutely everyone in the Xianzhou Luofu knows about it.

He'd do anything for you and makes sure to keep that pretty smile on your face no matter what.

-----♡

》Blade

He swore to himself, that he'd protect your innocence and positivity with his life. Whilst he sees nothing positive or good in the world anymore, you motivate him to continue living everyday and therefore finds it only fair to protect you from the horrible truths of this world.

You're so different than him and somehow, that makes you two work. You bring warm light into his dark, cold world and he's more grateful for that than he'd ever dare admit. You keep him sane and relaxed on even his worst days with your naturally peaceful nature and he loves you for it. It's what drew him to you in the first place.

He enjoys watching you perform a dance for him, mainly because he's too possessive over you, to let anyone else see it. It is something only for his eyes to see. No one deserves to see you dance, except for him.

Watching you move so smoothly with the music keeps him at ease and makes his troubled thoughts and soul still for even just a moment.

If you look closely, you might even catch a small smile on his face, as his dreamy eyes watch you move.

-----♡

》Dan Heng

At first, he was a little confused and unimpressed with your positive and happy nature... yet overtime, he began falling in love with you for it.

You didn't mind how quiet or reserved he was. You didn't judge him, for not really knowing how to be in a relationship. Instead, you were patient and gentle with him, always so peaceful and kind.

You coaxed him out of his shell with your sweet words and kind gestures, making him feel a warmth he never thought he'd ever deserve to feel again.

He watches your dances with wonder in his eyes, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, as he's completely unable to look away. You take away his ability to breathe with your beauty and dance alone and he doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he'd die, if it meant to see you dance just for him one more time.

He protects you with his life, knowing the cruelty of the world too well to ever dare lose you.

-----♡

》Luocha

The stern doctor and happy-go-lucky assistant/dancer duo people really need.

Your positivity and want to help everyone comes in perfectly here. You sometimes help him out at work, mostly calming and caring for patients, as they receive their treatment.

You keep him calm and focused on very stressful days, always there to motivate him and remind him how far he's come. He truly couldn't do it all without you.

He especially loves it, when you also take care of him as well with your gentle and peaceful nature. Luocha thinks it's nice to be the one taken care of for once and you are more than willing to do so.

Absolutely protects you from more gory sights at work and doesn't let anyone harm you. Your innocence and kindness is something he deems as special in this dark world.

He loves watching your performances alot. They give him peace and a break from all his troubles. If he could watch you all day for hours on end, then he would, without hesitation.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! I'm barely awake rn, so I'm sorry if there are many mistakes! Thank you again for the request!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Part 1: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: SO excited for me and @mountainsandmayhem to bring you a Moulin Rouge Joel Miller series ❤️ We are both so excited to be writing this and hope you love it as much as we do! Hang on tight for the ride of your life between these two on their angsty, beautiful love story 🥰 Comments and reblogs mean the world to us! Chapters are in both reader’s and Joel’s POV. No explicit smut in first chapter.

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Tags: Angst, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, forbidden love, murder, fluff and smut, jealousy, moulin rouge au, soulmates being in love, protective Joel, no outbreak, reader is 20 and Joel is 29, tags will be updated each chapter

Summary: Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Your whole childhood centered around death, but you never thought about the possibility of yourself dying, never thought about how you’d like to go. As your vision blurs and the world begins to silence, you realise that this is the ultimate way to go. For her. Saving her is all that matters, saving the person you love the most in the entire world, even if you’ve never met her.

Sarah, please Joel. Name her Sarah.

At times, your childhood may have seemed sad or tragic to the outside eye, but to you it has been nothing short of amazing. You don’t remember the incident that took both your parents, you were too young, so young that you can’t even picture their faces. You were brought to stay with the only family you had left - your mom’s much older brother.

Your uncle Edward was a quiet and kind man, he was also the owner of Moulin Rouge. A bright and colorful dance hall, filled with sparkling costumes and lively music. For the longest time you weren’t allowed outside of the living quarters, but you remember laughter and cheering filtering through the thin walls. This place was magic to you in your childhood naivety.

You remember begging the dancers to teach you the steps to the songs you overheard in the night. Occasionally, one of them would show you a kick or a twirl that you’d practice alone in your room until the muscles in your legs were stretched and sore, no longer able to support your tiny frame.

During the day, a tutor came in for a few hours to teach you and the few other children that lived there, meals were brought to your living quarters by an older woman who rarely spoke to you. Uncle Edward was alway home for those meals, but often had stacks of papers to go through. Most of the time it was just you and the broken guitar and pottery wheel your uncle had given you. But overall you were alone, far away music and laughter to keep you company.

For your thirteenth birthday your uncle surprised you with dance lessons. He knew how much you wanted to learn, and could practically feel the energy buzzing off you every time your eyes darted to the performing dancers. So he gave in, gifting you with something that might bring you a little joy in the isolated burlesque. A silent way of telling you he was sorry for not being around much and leaving you to delve in your loneliness inside your vacant room.

“Well, little petal,” your uncle says as you blow out the singular candle sitting on top of the small cake to celebrate you turning sixteen. “I think you’re old enough now to come up and watch my diamonds perform. What do you say? Would you like to come see the show?”

You practically jumped from your seat, mouthful of chocolate cake, “Yes, Uncle! Please. Nothing could make me happier.”

“Tomorrow night I will bring you up to see it. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.”

You’d seen the costumes and the women in their makeup before, you’ve even been out to the dance hall and on the stage. But that was only during the day, when the tables were only occupied by up-turned chairs, the overhead lights were off, and the band was nothing more than an empty pit in front of the stage.

The next night, your uncle brought you a new sparkly pink dress, and had the hair and make-up ladies get you all dolled up to watch. You looked at yourself in the mirror and had never felt more beautiful, seeing yourself as one of the famous diamonds of the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

The show was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You didn’t know so many varieties of reds and blues and purples existed. The women kicked their legs in unison, men cheering and clapping as they swooshed their large billowing skirts. The music filled your ears with joy and wonder, the sounds crisper than they were through the walls. Laughter and happiness held you like a tight hug. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

As the show wound down, your Uncle leaned to you and said it was time to head to bed, “You’ve seen the show, little petal. Now the adults will indulge in wine and talk about things not for your ears.”

You didn’t argue, simply kissing your uncle on the cheek and saying, “Thank you, Uncle. I am going to practice harder so I can become a real diamond one day!”

You floated down the hallway. With your eyes still swarming with the bright colors of the show and your future dreams you hadn’t realised that you opened the door before the one to take you home, and this door led to something both sinister and unspeakable - it led to darkness. The room was only lit by candles sprawled across the wall, casting looming shadows of the acts happening before your very eyes.

You stood in the doorway taking in men and women completely naked, rubbing up against one another incessantly. Your tutor taught you that these areas of your body are not to be shared, they are only for you. Yet here they are, almost unashamed as they grind. The men all appear to be having a good time, but the women - they’re crying out.

Are they in pain? What are these men doing to them? Why are some men just watching? They should be helping. Your uncle, does he know that this is happening? Is this what his diamonds do?

Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

You nervously approached your Uncle about it a few days later. “Oh, my sweet little petal. I’m sorry that you had to witness that. I promise you, none of those women were in pain. Not all my diamonds dance like that, and you never will. I meant it when I offered you a spot to dance, fully clothed and on the stage only. I only hope that you do not think less of me now that you know what goes on behind closed doors of the Moulin Rouge.”

Four Years Later

Joel stumbles into the doors of the Moulin Rouge after seeing the maintenance worker needed sign displayed in bold letters outside the burlesque. This was the last place he wanted to end up, the last place he’d be caught dead in; but he needed something, and anything was better than the minimal income of selling his woodwork. He couldn’t get by anymore by only getting one or two customers every couple of weeks, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough to pay the rent of his small, cramped apartment. Wasn’t enough to feed himself day and night. He needed more, and this was his shot.

He pushes the heavy black doors open, quickly tucking his red flannel button-up into his pressed pants, needing to look his best if he wants to get this job. He has to get it, has to impress whoever is the owner of this club.

He finds the first person he can spot, quickly getting the attention of a bartender as he washes crystal glasses with a thin rag behind the sleek bar top.

“Sorry to bother you, but I saw the sign out front that said you need some help with maintenance around here?” he asks briskly as he stares at the bartender with eyes that say he’s desperate. His hands come to rest on the bar top and he fights the urge to nervously drum his fingers along it.

The bartender looks him over as he sets down a glass, nodding his head. “Oh, yes. Let me go grab the owner real quick. Be right back, wait here,” he says as he runs in the opposite direction, disappearing behind a long hallway. Joel nervously pushes back his outgrown curls, silently cursing to himself for buying that loaf of bread instead of getting a haircut. His big brown eyes dart curiously around the club, trying to take it all in.

It’s light outside as the sun glistens in through the drawn crimson curtains, some dancers sauntering on stage as they practice their moves, swaying their hips to a nonexistent beat. Joel averts his eyes and takes in the rest of the large room - it’s filled with tables that are meant for the men to smoke cigars and drink their alcohol as they drool over the women of the burlesque. All lust and no love, the way the burlesque was set up to be. Joel was never into this scene, never fit in with any of those types of men, but he was desperate, he needed work and this may very well be the only way he can get any.

A tall, thin man walks into the room with slicked back sandy hair and green eyes that are as sharp as a snake’s. He eyes Joel carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other stretching to shake Joel’s. Joel wastes no time and reaches a hand out, feeling a firm grasp as the owner shakes his hand.

“The name’s Edward. And you are?” he asks with a gentle smile.

“I’m Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with nerves running through his body, the back of his neck slick with sweat. He’s nervous he won’t get it, nervous he’ll leave empty handed with no job. He’ll fight for it though because he’s a fighter, and he doesn’t give up easily.

“So, I hear you’re interested in the maintenance job. You got any experience?” Edward asks as he leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest as he examines Joel again, taking in his flannel and tan pants, his worn work boots.

“Yes, sir. Got years of experience with fixin’ things. Anything from sinks to building homes. Even have a little woodworking shop on the side,” he says proudly as he tries not to fidget with the buttons on his flannel.

“Hmmm,” Edward hums as he looks him over again carefully, those bright green eyes staring at Joel’s clothes like he’s judging him. Joel swallows down that dry lump of self doubt creeping in. “You seem capable. How old are you? Think you can handle working at nights, too? Gets pretty rowdy around here when the moon comes up, but that’s when we need someone the most,” he presses, eyes shifting over him as his brow raises in question again, waiting for Joel to respond.

“Just about to turn thirty and ‘course. Nights don’t bother me one bit. I can even start today, if I can,” Joel says with a determined smile as he shoves his left hand deep into his pocket, praying he’ll get the job.

“I see. Well then, looks like you got yourself a new gig. See you tonight at let’s say 7:00 pm,” he says, reaching a hand out to Joel. For most men that would be a question, but Edward is a very rich and powerful man, he doesn’t ask for things, he demands them. Joel doesn’t hesitate for a second and puts his grip in Edward’s, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” he says with tears almost filling his eyes. A job, he finally has a job that’ll get him by just fine. No more nights of going hungry. He can finally breathe a second, if not more.

Before he turns to leave, Edward puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him back around carefully. “Oh, forgot to mention something. There’s only one condition I ask of you. Don’t touch my dancers. They’re strictly for the guests that pay,” he says with furrowed brows, his eyes burning into him, as if to see if Joel will flinch at all.

“That’ll be no problem on my part. Promise,” Joel confirms with a nod of his head, his tousled curls moving with the motion.

“Good, good…” Edward hums out. “Alright, Joel. I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wave as he turns around and heads back behind crimson curtains, disappearing into a dark hallway.

Joel can’t help but smile as he heads out the doors of the Moulin Rouge, stepping into the warm sunshine as it bathes across his tanned skin. He takes a breath of fresh air as it smells of autumn leaves and new hope.

Things start to feel like they’re looking up, like something nirvanic was right on the cusp. What Joel doesn’t know is just what waits around that heavy crimson curtain for him. He doesn’t know the beautiful disaster he’s about to step into. A Sparkling Diamond that will take over his life forever. Someone so precious, so special, so indescribably unique. Someone so very - you.

Joel makes sure to get to the Moulin Rouge fifteen minutes early, wanting nothing more than to give off a good impression. The burlesque is filling up quickly as the sun fades away, the bright full moon taking its place in the sky, stars scattering around it.

When he walks inside the double doors, he sees that the dance hall is filling up quickly with men who smoke expensive cigars and drink bottles of whiskey that he can only dream of affording. He makes his way further into the entrance, his eyes taking in his surroundings, noticing that the large room looks nothing like earlier when it was closed.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings as red curtains drape across the crimson wallpaper. The dance floor is littered with burlesque dancers that lift their skirts high and tease the men as they surround them, hoping to entice the wealthiest one. Money is what they’re after and selling themselves is their only shot at making any extra tips for the night.

Joel clenches his jaw at the sight and turns his head, waiting at the front until he finally spots Edward in a black pressed suit. His blonde hair slicked back tight, looking around to make sure his guests are happy and taken care of. When he sees Joel, he walks toward him and puts a hand on his shoulder in greeting.

“Ahh, there you are. Come along now. I’ll show you around,” he says gladly.

After that, he shows Joel the burlesque. He takes him to the maintenance closet and gives him a key to access it - metal tools and large shelves cover the entirety of the inside. Next he takes him down long, dark corridors, past rooms that are locked shut. Just when Joel thinks he's seen it all, they head up to the second story. Sweeping down wooden laden hallways, passed the balcony that overlooks the large city, and through winding rooms that seem to have no end. He had no idea it was so large and spacious here; didn’t even realise people lived here. Joel starts to think more softly towards Edward, sure these women put themselves in vulnerable positions night after night, but they have safe housing and a sense of family and community back here.

Edward takes Joel back down toward the main ballroom where the entertainment is held every night. Just as he latches on to the spiral staircase, he sees a man dragging a dancer with barely anything on into a dark room at the end of the luminescent hallway with red carpet sprawled across the floor. He shoves her in as he starts working his hands up her body, and Joel can see the mass of bodies already in the room as he closes the door, concealing moans and lust on the other side of the tarnished doorway.

Joel gulps and looks back toward the ground, keeping his eyes off the pleasure room. He knows what goes on in these walls, knows what filth lies in every corner. The stench of money and sex encompass the room, he can almost taste it on the tip of his rough tongue. He finds it revolting, men using these women's bodies. No love to be seen in these walls. Only perversions and sexual desire. He turns away sharply and descends the stairs, almost running into the back of Edward.

“I believe one of the wooden tables over by the stage needs some maintenance. The legs are collapsing, think you can do something about that?” he asks with a raised brow as he points at a dark wooden table with the legs barely hanging on.

“Sure. Probably just needs some tightening up. Easy fix,” Joel nods.

“Excellent. I have guests to greet, so fix that and then come find me,” just as he turns on his heel, he stops and looks back at Joel. Green eyes narrowing, a finger pointing in Joel’s direction. “Remember,” he says with venom in his voice, “Do not touch my dancers. They’re only for paying customers, and you cannot afford them.”

Joel only nods, letting Edward know he understands. With that, Edward turns and heads for the main doors, greeting more men as they pack in like sardines. Joel sighs and heads for the maintenance closest, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that shoots through his gut at the backhanded warning Edward gave.

Don’t touch the dancers…you cannot afford them.

Even if Joel could afford it, he would never do what these men are doing. The soft, beautiful women of this place deserve to be treasured, not pawed at and used. He wasn’t a rabid dog. He could control himself unlike all the other men that crowded the Moulin Rouge.

He grabs up a metal wrench and shoves some nuts and bolts deep into his pocket. When he makes his way back to the table he starts to assess the damage. This would be much easier to fix in his well lit workshop, but there’s no carrying this table away from the stage and through the crowd of hungry men.

Now that he’s thrust in the middle of the wooden dance floor, he can see the burlesque dancers seeking out the richest looking men, sitting on their laps and letting them put their dirty paws all over their bodies. The men laugh, carrying on conversations as they fondle their breasts, leaning down to trail kisses up their necks. Some get up and lead the women down the long, dark corridor. Back to the pleasure room. Back to their impending doom.

The three men at the table next to him have one girl propped up in front of them, all of their hands grabbing different areas of her body, asking her if she wants all three of them; the men are easily twenty years older than the petite and innocent looking blonde in front of them. Joel feels for the dancers, but there isn’t anything he can do. It’s business. It’s all about the fucking money and pleasure. Pleasure sells, and this is what most men desire. Sex.

The room grows louder as men cheer from the crowded tables. Some swarming the end of the lit up stage to get a peek at the next performer. Some start chanting, yelling in demand for the next poor soul to dance across that stage, right into the pit of vipers that are ready to spit venom at whatever girl walks out next.

The cigar smoke lingers in the air as crystal glasses clink in cheers, alcohol spilling over on the tabletops. Joel knows that’ll leave a huge mess for him and the other staff to clean up after closing. He tightens the bolts under the table, winding the wrench as he tries to turn his focus away from the lust filled crowd. They’re just a bunch of sick fucks who get off on ripping away the innocence and dignity of women. Nothing more than their play things. Theirs to possess and own for a few hours. It’s cruel and vile, disgusting in itself.

Joel was never the type of guy to use a woman. He’d never dream of hurting anyone. He was thoughtful and charming, a man who minds his manners and works hard for everything he has.

He digs harder into the leg of the table, trying to mute the hooting and hollering that is getting louder by the second. The sounds of the men start to overlap until it’s muffled and pressing on his eardrums, running along the nerves that wire his brain. He concentrates on the task at hand, shutting out the noise as he tries to fix the table.

“The Sparkling Diamond!”

“She’s coming on stage now!”

“Look, look!”

The men nearest him yell to each other, babbling about the Sparkling Diamond as the lights turn crimson and dark around the room, crystal chandeliers send glistening reflections across the expensive tailored suits that fill the crowded room.

“Here she comes, boys!”

Just then, the lights go out completely and a spotlight shines on the wide stage. Crimson curtains splay over the sides, exposing the long walkway where dancers show off for the men. The crowd goes quiet, a few whistles shrouding the silence as a slow, sensual song covers the room. The men pound on the stage, yelling for the Sparkling Diamond to come out. Joel thinks she must be something special if she has the entire room practically panting with anticipation. The wild men crawl towards the stage, pushing each other to get to the front so they can get the best view. Joel doesn’t know anything about a Sparkling Diamond, but he’s intrigued. Just what were they getting all worked up about?

Before he can comprehend what's happening, he hears the click of heels travel across the stage. He rises slowly, seeing the pretty figure that dances under the bright spotlight, the men now screaming and throwing their hands out, begging to get a touch of the enchantress that graces their presence. When she’s fully in view he freezes, dropping the wrench to the floor as it crashes with a loud thud against the spotless wood. It suddenly feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Joel braces himself against the table, the sight before him nearly knocking him back down to his knees.

It’s you.

The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. Long, soft curls cascade past your shoulders and bounce around with every move you make on the lit up stage. Your short pink dress barely grazes the curve of your thighs as your arms raise overhead and you spin slowly. As you bring your arms back down, your red painted fingernails caress your curls, then tease the jawline of your flawless face. Your cheeks flush from the attention before you gently bite the tip of your finger, red lipstick sitting matted to your delicate lips.

Joel thinks they look soft to the touch, delicate even. Your lips call to him, almost scream his name. Joel, Joel, Joel. And he wants to answer it. God, does he want to answer that call.

He watches the way you twirl, fluttering your eyelashes as you look down at the men, seducing them effortlessly. Performing is what you were meant to do. When you finally look at Joel he falls completely apart, all his threads coming untied in a heap, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He stands there frozen, sinking his nails into the hardwood table as he sucks in a shaky breath, almost unable to fully take in the vision that stands mere inches before him. He can’t hear the carnal men anymore, can’t smell the cigar smoke that encases the air, can’t focus on anything that even remotely takes his attention from the beauty that lights up the room. He can only focus on you. He feels a pull from his chest, like an invisible string, forcing him to look at nothing else but you. The Sparkling Diamond that draws men to the Moulin Rouge, and the one thing he knows will get him fired.

Your eyes sparkle and shine like a rare gemstone, pulling Joel in like a siren’s forbidden song, a lull that drags him under the dark depths of the sea. The smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes, a sadness there that he can’t quite place. The men claw and reach for you like starving pigs, acting like you’re just a piece of meat to pass around to all the others to get a quick taste of.

It makes him sick the way they objectify your body, only caring about what’s underneath the short shimmery dress you wear. Joel doesn’t stare at your curves, doesn’t get sucked into whatever fantasy the rest of the men are in. He just stares at your eyes. Beautiful, sparkling. He’d cross oceans just to have a chance to memorize each fleck and color that maps out those starry eyes. Like roadmaps to his soul, leading him home to the deep depths of those glistening irises. And that’s when something snaps, he can’t - no, he won’t let any of these men put one grimy finger on you. Whatever it takes he’ll do it. He makes a silent vow to keep you safe, protect you at all cost.

There’s only one condition, don’t touch the dancers.

Edward’s voice plays through Joel’s mind on repeat, warning him to not tempt fate. But fate had already been tempted when he saw you up on that stage. He’d quit, starve, be homeless on the street if it meant he could have a chance to be with you. He’d give it all just to be able to touch you, to know you, to have you. He’d leave it all for you. His sweet, Sparkling Diamond.

You spin and turn, kicking your feet up to show off your smooth, long legs that all the men drool over. You turn to the right, drifting your eyes in the direction of a man you’ve never seen before. You almost freeze as he stares right back at you, big beautiful brown eyes gazing into yours as he gawks at you reverently. But his eyes don’t travel down your body like the other men’s do. His eyes stay fixed on your face alone, staring up into the pits of your soul as you suck in a breath and try to focus on the beat of the song.

His long tousled curls drape over his forehead, almost falling into his brown doe eyes that seem to suck you in. He’s tall, broad shouldered with thick biceps that cling to his rolled up button-up flannel. Spidery veins cascade down his arms and end in massive hands that stay clenched by his sides. His tanned skin seems to glow as he stares at you with brown eyes that melt into your own like a candle stick, wax flowing down slowly, sticky and new. It’s captivating. He is captivating.

It's like you’re stuck in a haze, thick clouds that cover you and wrap their fog around so you can’t see, can’t hear anything anymore. You try to focus on the men that praise your body, try to avert your eyes from the handsome stranger, but that organ in your chest you force yourself to ignore is almost screaming at you to run to him. Two souls colliding into each other that were destined to meet. Just like twin flames.

Soulmates.

You blink once, twice, peeling your gaze away from him, turning the other direction, forcing yourself to stay bright eyed, hoping your smile doesn’t lower. You come face to face with a gentleman with a large top hat that screams your name and reaches his arms out, desperate to get just a single touch from you that he hopes will become more.

You turn back around and find that heated gaze again with the dark brown eyes, your own eyes going wide as they draw you to him. He looks a lot like your saving grace. Someone that wants to come in and sweep you off your feet.

Again, he just watches you silently, eyes searching yours as he seems to clock into your mind, reading your thoughts like a book from front to back. He won’t find anything there except a longing for something more. An escape. Happiness. And maybe he could be that for you. Maybe, just maybe he was destined to find you. You can feel it in your chest, that ache and pull that draws you to him.

Your uncle won’t like this. Not one bit…

Joel watches your entire routine, never once letting his eyes drop from you. He watches as you disappear into the crowd of men, narrowing his eyes when he sees the way they grab at you and beg to have a dance with the Sparkling Diamond. It makes him want to strangle every single one of them slowly.

Please, just one dance?

Sparkling Diamond! Care to have a drink with me?

How about a little fun in the red room?

You politely decline each offer and just smile as you pass the men by, trying your best to not meet the stranger with the pretty brown eyes’ gaze. He’s so handsome, so very easy on the eyes. You try your best to look at the men with money, knowing this is what you’re here for, to give them a show so they’ll pay to come back. Try as you might, that thin string snapped the second you saw his brown flecked honey eyes. You don’t want to do this anymore.

You turn where you stand and look back towards the stage. You search as men cram around you and over the top of an older man’s shoulder you can see him, clear as day, still staring at you with a trance-like expression on his face. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, curling your lips into a shy smile and you swear you see his pretty caramel eyes light up like fireflies in the night.

Just when you’re about to walk over to him, you feel your uncle pull you away in the opposite direction. “Come on, little petal, got some nice men that’d like to meet you.”

You follow him helplessly past some drawn crimson curtains, already over the drunk men that will press their chapped lips to your face and place their grimy hands all over you. You’re finished though, over all the fake smiles and laughter you are forced to sell these men night after night. When you look back over your shoulder you can’t see him anymore. No more pretty brown eyes that make you feel somehow safe. You don’t know him, his backstory, his name, or even his age, but you’ll find out. You have to, you just have to.

After finishing fixing the two broken tables and putting them back into order, Joel gets another visit from Edward as he saunters over with a big smile and a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Everything going alright?” Edward asks as he pulls on his black tie and straightens out his long tailed coat.

“Yes, sir. Finished fixin’ those tables for you. They should be good to go now,” Joel answers as he stands up straight with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Excellent!” Edward goes over to the wooden tables and knocks on the top, inspecting Joel’s work as he looks them over carefully. Once he’s satisfied he gives Joel a strong pat on the back and nods. “Did good work, boy. Think we’ll keep you around.”

Joel smiles at the compliment, thanking him for the opportunity. “Oh, there’s actually something else that needs to be done. You remember that room we passed on the second floor? The very back room by the balcony? The one that says Sparkling Diamond?”

Joel’s eyes go wide as he recalls passing a big red door with the letters spelled out in fake diamonds. That has to be your room. He should’ve noticed it sooner, maybe asked about it. But he didn’t know that room would belong to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn’t know it until now.

“Uh-yeah. What about it?” he asks cautiously, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation of what Edward would say next.

“The sink in her kitchen is dripping and some of the lightbulbs are burnt out. There should be some in the supply closet. Think you can handle taking care of that now?”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “Absolutely. I’ll get right on it,” Joel says urgently.

As he turns to leave, Edward calls his name. “Oh, Joel. Before you leave tonight, go ahead and have a beer. It’s on me.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been offered a free one before, always had to pay money that he didn’t have to get one. “Oh, thank you. I… I appreciate it.”

“You earned it, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Edward asks with his eyebrows knitted together and gaze heavy on Joel.

“I’ll be here,” he promises.

“Alright, take care now. I’ve got some business to attend to so see you tomorrow.” Edward turns and walks back into a sea of rich men.

Joel pushes his way past men in black suits and black ties, cigars hanging from their open mouths and drinks spilling over their glass cups as they talk about money, sex, stocks, and women. He tunes them out and keeps walking, ignoring the nasty stares he gets from not being in a suit himself.

As soon as he grabs the bag of lightbulbs and a few plumbing tools, he heads up the grand staircase with red carpet sprawled across each step. He makes his way up the stairs, down the narrow dark hallway and stops before he turns the corner. He stands just a few feet from the pleasure room. The red room as they call it here.

He can hear the moans and cries coming from the room, can smell the stench of sex that whisks through the air. He wonders if you go into that room night after night, letting the men with dirty claws sink their nails into you, feasting on you like blood sucking vampires.

His jaw clenches up as his nails sink into the meat of his palm, his face becoming hot with heat as he imagines you splayed out on an open bed while the men take and take from you until you have nothing left to give. Until you’re just a used up rag doll for them to toy with. He snarls and turns the corner sharply, putting those dark thoughts out of his mind. If he had his way he’d make damn sure you’d never set foot in that room again. He’d slaughter a whole fucking mass of men if he had to. No one should lay their filthy hands on you as far as he’s concerned.

He walks through the long corridor, passing door after door until he finally gets to yours. He takes a deep breath and turns the golden doorknob slowly entering the dimly lit room with pale pink wallpaper. He gently shuts the door and when he turns around he stops in his tracks, hand sliding off the doorknob as he sees you standing in the middle of the room. Naked.

Your skin is soft, probably as soft as the back of a rose petal. Your legs are long, smooth, and enticing. He wonders what it’d feel like to run his long fingers over your creamy thighs. You’re bent over, ass in the air, as you unbuckle the straps of the high heels you wore on stage. Your hips are curvy, shaping your round ass into mere perfection. Your full breasts peek out from the corner as your long waves spill over your shoulders. You’re absolutely perfect, stunning, a work of pure art.

Joel knows he’s fucked now. He knows. After seeing how beautiful you are, he can’t turn away. He shouldn’t be standing here gawking at you while you change, but he can’t move. He’s stuck like glue, an immovable object that can’t be pushed. He’s in trouble, so much trouble.

He loses his balance when you bend over again, exposing a different view of you that nearly takes him to his knees. The bag of bulbs falls to the ground with a large crash, and you turn with a quaint gasp as you take in the man that stands before you. It’s him, the man with the dark eyes.

Your eyes go wide, quickly reaching for a thin, sheer robe as you wrap it around you and cover the parts of you that are completely exposed. You breathe hard, your breath coming out rushed and fast. He does the same as he just stands there staring, no air left in his lungs as he stands in front of the beauty that takes his breath away. And then it’s silence, only rushed breaths and pining eyes.

The longer he stares into your captivating eyes, the more he knows he’s fucked. There was no way he was getting out of this now, no way to back down. He was going to make you his one way or another. You would be his. Period.

[brights-place]

Trollex X Rapper! S/O

Pairing: Trollex X S/O

Warnings: Lots of Fluff

A/N: Okay my first ever thought today to get me distracted was listening to music so I just shuffled some songs form one of my playlists and a rap song was playing while I was writing and I was like ‘Oh shit I gotta write this!’ Now here we are!

- Trollex with a Rapper! S/O YIPPEEE it was so fun to write this

- When you first met Trollex asked you all about your genre listening to how you explained everything and told him that a rapper is a musical poet technically your job was blending rhythm and rhyme to express stories, emotions, and ideas. They craft lyrics, hone their flow, and perform with energy that captivates audiences. Rappers often reflect on personal experiences or societal issues, becoming voices for their communities like what you did

- He couldn’t stop being interested in you after that and get pulled in more when you rapped into the microphone to show him an example with an random beat he gave

- He can’t help but raise a brow at you sometimes when you rock up to the studio and wait for creativity to strike, usually spending all night to work on your music he gets worried sometimes and tells you to relax and have some fun with him at the Techno reef Parties

- He would definitely make beats for your song and let you freestyle your way with the music he had given you.

- He love sit when you rap especially when you insult someone in an rap battle he finds it funny to see your smirk or smile

- He loves when you write and perform some of your rap songs or hip-hop music.

- He hates how your genre was criticised though sometimes… scratch that he hates when anybody discriminates and insults someone’s genre or music (it’s technically their race in Trolls)

- He loves you with all his heart but can’t help but notice how you and Prince D would vibe to hip hop together and rap he’s jealous of your bond since your technically in the same music genre even if your appearance was different your genre was the same

- Trollex though loves when you share your earbuds/headphones with him to show him some New rap songs or hip hop music you enjoy fucking falls in love with you all over again

- He had tried rapping once since you begged him to do it he was good like REALLY GOOD

- That mother fucker was good at it… not as good as Bruce though that man could go off (Bruce is VA is the guy who played my favourite character in Hamilton Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson. NEHGEHE)

- He glows and has an bigger smile when you praise him as he quickly tackles you into an hug and snuggle into you which leads up to you holding him close to your chest and rubbing his back as he sleeps on your peacefully

- Trollex can’t help but admire how you hold your mic and go off at anybody or just have fun with it

- He loves how you send out messages through your rap speaking up and talking about issues and your own experiences while on stage.

- You know how I said he makes your beats? Well you also come by to his place and surprise him with an rap you wrote out of boredom without realising and asked if he could help make an beat for it

- he did and it was sold so fast 😭

- Trollex loves when you sing normally though even if you rap all the time he loves when you just sing in an slow pace and wants to dance with you slowly even if both of you were used to the loud techno and hip hop music

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: here's one for jude 😁 they're childhood friends, have known one another for so long, everyone says they are a perfect fit but jude brushes off the idea because deep down he doesn't want to admit he's in love with her, she on the other hand doesn't have time for relationships cause of her career as a ballerina. they stop talking for about three years until they meet again in madrid, she's dragged by her girlfriends to see real madrid play, that's when she sees jude, they reconnect with jude finally ready to confess his feelings, however one of his teammates tries to jump in the way. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 761 words

(author's note: everyone thank @findingnemosworld for her amazing requests !! i did change the ending a little so i hope thats okay 🫶)

Jude always thought that Y/N was the most beautiful girl in the world. Her smile could light up a room, and her laugh was like music to his ears. They had been friends since he could remember, spending most of their childhood years as an inseparable pair.

What Jude didn’t realise is that Y/N felt exactly the same about him. His happy-go-lucky personality made her enjoy being around him, and the side of him that was ever-so caring made her fall head over heels for the boy.

But through Jude’s move to Real Madrid and Y/N’s gruelling career as a ballerina, the pair had fallen apart. This shocked everyone around them, as anyone who looked their way would assume they were a couple. There was no one else in the world who would've been more of a perfect fit together than Jude and Y/N.

Jude Bellingham wasn’t scared of most things. He’d played professional football for years. Suffered online abuse and gone through many hardships throughout his life. But the idea of telling Y/N how he felt about her had him shaking with fear. He valued her friendship more than anything else, so when he had to let his best friend know he was moving away, it broke his heart.

Y/N was devastated. Jude’s departure had made her lose her drive and motivation and her ballet career was suffering because of it. Her coach was pushing her to her limits to distract her from the gaping hole that Jude had left behind in her life with his departure.

Time passed, and the pair hadn’t spoken in months. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t think of one another every passing minute, of every passing day.  

Y/N had a break in ballet performances, and it just so happened that her dance group’s next show was in Madrid. Her friends had been given tickets to a football game, and she blindly agreed to go. Her friend, who had been given the tickets, was married to a player from one of the teams playing, and Y/N desperately needed a chance to relax.

Jude was sat in the changing rooms. He was listening to Vinicius Jr. give them a pep talk before their game against Sevilla. He had a strange feeling his his stomach but he couldn’t place it. 

"Jude, are you okay?" Luka asked him, noticing the look on his Jude's face.

“Yeah man, I’m fine”, Jude responded, brushing off his friend’s concerns.

And so the game began. Y/N and her friends sat, immersed in the game. She always used to watch Jude play, and the interest in football had stuck, even after he moved away. However, when the line-ups were announced and the players walked out, Y/N felt sick. She hadn’t seen Jude in three years since his move to Madrid, and the painful memories rocketed to the forefront of her mind.

Jude ran onto the pitch. As he stood through the pre-game formalities, his eyes wandered over the masses of spectators that had turned up to watch their teams play. However, his eyes widened when they connected with those belonging to a familiar face.

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. The look she shared with Jude was one full of shock and pain. Jude mouthed ‘meet me after the game’ and she understood immediately.

It was an interesting game that resulted in a draw. Each side fought hard, but neither of them could grasp the winning goal. Jude had never been so eager to leave the pitch as he rushed over to where Y/N was waiting for him.

As he stood in front of the girl he had loved his whole life, he faltered. Jude knew he couldn’t hold his feelings back any longer.

“Y/N, I love you. I have for so many years and I-”

“Jude, I love you too.”

Jude stopped talking. He had been waiting to hear those three words come out of her mouth since he had learned what they meant. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He stepped forward, cupped her face with his hand, and kissed her. 

Jude poured every ounce of love he had for Y/N into that kiss. The fondness he felt for her was unbeaten, the years he spent hiding it, filled with regret.

Once they broke away, the looked at eachother. The look was not filled with pain this time, it had been replaced with love and tenderness.

The pair left the stadium, reunited and ready to spend their days together.

[stellocchia]

i was wondering if you have any ideas for how hopper chara would look besides being yk chara + if you have any other theater au ideas you wanna share :D

Sorry it took me a while to respond, but I actually wanted to try and design Hopper, so here's a look at them:

Humans are not my strong suit, but I'm satisfied with how they came out!

The glitching gets more or less intense depending on how much determination they've managed to accumulate. If the determination gets too low, they become translucent and lose their corporeality (is that what it's called?).

As for other details on the AU:

Gaster is the director. He's the boss here, meaning he chooses the play they're gonna perform, assigns the roles, and directs all the behind the scenes stuff too. He does not act because he feels that his appearance is too unsettling for people (he's just very insecure).

Asgore only looks behind the scenes. He works on the lights, the costumes, the props, and the scenography. He has too much stage fright for acting, but he likes keeping busy, so the behind the scenes stuff is perfect for him.

Killer is an actor, but he also helps with the costumes because he discovered when giving it a try randomly one day that he actually quite enjoys the process.

Hopper also takes part in the acting, but also helps with the lights and whatever technology there is. They're an iPad kid, they're good with that stuff.

Mettaton of course is the star of the show. He always tries to get the main roles (all of them. He'd play both Romeo and Juliet if given the chance basically). He also always insists that they should try doing a musical because he's a big fan of those, but so far he's never had any luck

Undyne loves acting but she's unfortunately really not good at it. She's got so much passion though that Gaster always gives her a role. Though, for the most part, she tends to take care of dance choreographies and whatever other physically demanding stunts she manages to convince the others to put in.

Also, I mentioned it before, but all of them had some troubled pasts.

I mentioned that Hopper was locked in a never-ending fight with the Player. However, with the cast of their world being unaware of the Player's existence, they were just left with the feeling of unease around Hopper given by the fact that they'd been possessing them. After getting rid of the Player, Hopper couldn't handle the constant suspicion and distrust from everyone else, so they tried to erase themselves... Thankfully, Core found them in time and offered them an out.

Asgore is from a classic AU and he's still dealing with the grief of losing his kids, his wife, and having to kill all those children. He's especially awkward around Color because he can see the human souls and the guilt that resurfaces paralyzes him every time.

Undyne comes from a Dancetale AU. Unfortunately, she was always just as aggressive as a classic Undyne which ended up making her rather unpopular in her world. Especially since she was just as rough with Frisk as she's always been and, well, with Frisk being the savior of monsterkind that was... quite something. That said, she doesn't particularly care about what people think. She's got a girlfriend and a best friend in her Papyrus and those are all the people that matter to her.

Mettaton is from an Underfell AU. He was built exclusively as a murder robot and he can't fight to save his life. It goes without saying that he was considered a failed experiment and he was sent to be dismantled. He managed to talk his way out of the execution but only just barely, though that did mean that he wasn't front and center when the human came in, so he managed to survive their rampage. All the survivors were led out by Core, but Mettaton avoids them all as much as he can. He does, however, get along with the Flowey from his world who also did manage to survive.

Gaster is just a cryptid ngl. My guy is supposed to be scattered across time and space but he said 'no' to that. Nobody is quite sure what his deal is. He's there though. And he's got a passion for theatrics and literature. He sometimes mentions things like "I'm banned from most AUs" or "I lost my teaching license due to The Incident™". He's such a weirdo, but it's hard not to get along with him.

[atinystraynstay]

Play Nicely - Lee Chan

Synopsis: "I got a preview of what it would be like not to be yours, and I hated it so much."

Pairing: Idol! Dino x fem reader

Genre: PG-13 - slight angst, slightttttt smutttt if you squint, jealousy ft. The8, established relationship, possession

Word Count: 2.1k

Dino wasn't used to sitting on the dance floor, being in charge of the music. He was normally the one in front of the mirror, learning the choreography. This time around though, Dino had to take the backseat in order for Minghao to practice the choreography for his upcoming music video.

He was in the midst of preparing for his newest solo single. It was a bit sexier of a concept compared to Hai Cheng released last year. This time around, it had a heavy influence compared to the group's Light A Flame number. Minghao wanted to step out of his comfort zone, to show off his full range of dancing capabilities especially now that his collarbone has fully healed.

Being the good friend that you are, you volunteered to help Minghao with the choreography. By no means were you a professional like the rest of the group, or really like any extra the company could have hired. However, you wanted to take a challenge. You've always been curious about the world of dance, especially after watching Dino command the stage with his capabilities.

Minghao was ecstatic about the opportunity. Not only because he could take his time since you were helping as a friend, but he felt more comfortable doing the dance with someone he knew. This style of dance was newer to him as a solo performer, so being able to do it without feeling like he was going to waste someone's time really benefitted his learning process.

Dino was also very blessed to see you step up to help one of his friends. The maknae was a bit hesitant to introduce you to his friend group. He knew his members could be intimidating but also knew he was often subject to most of the teasing. Not always, but most of it when Mingyu was MIA. He just didn't want to give them anymore ammunition or have you dragged into it.

It brought him great joy to see how easily you were accepted by the group. Sure, there was some teasing here and there. However, his 12 brothers were just pleased to see their youngest happy. That is all they wanted for him anyway.

You were wearing a blank tank top, your hair pulled back into a high ponytail. You were also wearing a pair of black leggings. Your facial expression showed you were relaxed. Maybe the two of you should take dance classes together? He was intrigued by the opportunity to see you dance, wondering what you were capable of.

"I'm just afraid of making a fool out of myself," Minghao explained. He ran his hand through his hair as he stood before you.

Being the comforting friend that you, you placed your hands on Minghao's shoulders. Staring into his eyes, you smiled gently. "You're not going to make a fool of yourself. You're one of the best dancers I know, Hao. We'll practice for however long you need so you can feel confident." Minghao smiled at you, nodding at your words

While Dino knew the interaction was innocent, he couldn't help but feel the sting in his heart. One of the best dancers you knew? What about him? He bit his lip as he stood up straighter. He could out dance Minghao if given the chance.

The rehearsal started lighthearted. Minghao was showing you the basic dance moves and keeping enough distance, so you could learn through trial and error. The three of you would laugh at the moments of awkwardness. it helped you feel at ease to be out of your element. It was such a lighthearted environment.

"Why don't we try it this time with the music? I think you got the basics of the dance down now, y/n!" "I can also pause it if you need to go over the steps again," Dino reminded.

You looked excited to try it with the music, and Dino and Minghao wanted to help you keep that enthusiasm. They were honestly grateful you were willing to help out, but wanted to keep it fun for you as this was a new experience.

However, once the music began to play, the mood shifted. it went from innocent and playful to seductive and intense. The track was a bit deeper than Seventeen's more lighthearted, poppy sounds they've been doing over the past few months. Quite frankly, it screamed sex appeal.

Dino has never wanted so desperately to pause the music, pause the intensity between the two of you. But he didn't want to be selfish.

Realizing where he was, he let out a sharp breath through his nostrils. He did his best to compose himself, not wanting to make a scene especially when he was with you and one of his best friends. He had to control himself. Neither of you were doing anything malicious, nor would you ever. You loved Dino too much to ever do something so careless whereas Minghao had too much respect for your relationship and the two of you as people.

Dino was just starting to realize maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

His blood boiled as Minghao's eyes were trained on you. You were able to capture the attention of everyone in the room. And honestly, Dino loved watching you thrive and flourish in anything you did. You could just be cooking up lunch for the two of you, and he was always left speechless.

Internally, he knew he should be grateful that his best friend was looking out for you. You meant the world to each member, especially since they knew how happy you made their maknae. And Minghao was doing everything he could to make sure you didn't get hurt while dancing.

It just wasn't far that Minghao got to be this close to you when that's all Dino was craving. He was craving the feeling of your body heat against his. He wanted to stare into your eyes until the world stopped spinning. And honestly, he wanted to be the first and only dance partner you had.

As the song played, Dino's jealousy just grew. Minghao guided you in where to place your hands, how to move your hips. It made Dino's mind fuzzy as he remembered all the things your body was capable of, how good you could make him feel. But he was seeing red as he watched Minghao maneuver you around, how your hands trailed his body.

The ending post is what drove Dino feral. Your back was fully pressed up against Minghao's chest. Your head was tilted back to face him thanks to the light hold Minghao had on your neck, his thumb on your jawline. His other hand rested on your hip, close to your upper thigh to keep you close.

The only sound that filled the air as the music died out was the sound of you two breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling. Dino was only used to that sound when it was the two of you in his bed.

Sensing eyes burning through him, Minghao looked over. He was about to ask for Dino's opinion but froze when he saw the glare Dino held. It was so unlike his younger member, so he was a bit surprised. Yet, he was intrigued to see how else he could push his buttons.

Leaning in close to you, Minghao whispered in your hear. He made sure he kept a bit of distance as to not overwhelm you, but give the impression Minghao was kissing your ear. Anything to drive Dino up the wall.

"Why don't we take a five? Give your lover boy a chance to breathe?"

You tilted your head in confusion before taking a look over at Dino. You've never seen him with his jaw clenched so tightly. You were afraid he was going to break his teeth with that kind of hold on his jaw.

Untangling your bodies, Minghao and you stepped away from with each other. Even though you were aching to know what was bothering your boyfriend, you were overjoyed with how well that first run-through went.

"I'm going to get us some water. Be right back," Minghao announced almost too happily.

I should have nothing to worry about. It's my best friend fulfilling his goal, but it just happens to be with my girlfriend. With his hands all over MY girlfriend. Fuck this.

Once you two were the only ones in the room, you turned towards your boyfriend. You couldn't help the gentle smile that tugged onto your lips at the sight of your pouty boy. Dino has always been seen as far more mature for his age, probably because he wanted to fit in with his hyungs since Seventeen's debut days. Yet, in this moment, he resembled a little boy who was not getting his way.

You were taking tiny steps towards Dino. You were convinced he hasn't moved an inch since rehearsals started. He was sitting up straight with his back against the glass.

"Have I ever told you I hate sharing?" He grumbled.

You giggled and shook your head. Your reaction caused Dino's scowl to deepen as his head shot up towards you. "Sorry," you whispered, apologizing for your reaction. You didn't want to just cast his feelings to the side. This was just a side of Dino you've never experienced before.

"Baby boy, you're not sharing me with anyone." "Damn right I'm not," he muttered.

Before you could even respond, Dino leaned forward to grab your wrists. You gasped lightly at the movement but allowed Dino to guide you in the direction he desired. He gently pulled you down so you straddled his lap. His knees propped up so you could lean back and rest against them.

Once you got situated in the new position, his hands let go of your wrists. Instead, they perched themselves on your hips to keep you secured on his lap. Your arms wrapped around Dino's neck. One hand resting on the base of his neck, the other on the back of his head.

"You only go home with me at the end of the day."

Dino didn't know what took over him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently at first against your neck. Your fingers gently running through his hair now, gripping slightly. The action caused him to growl against your skin, causing butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach. His lips were like a magnet to your neck.

"Don't ever think I'm willing to let anyone get that close to you again. You hear me?" The kisses were no longer soft pecks. They were open-mouth kisses that traveled up and down your neck, as if he was searching for it.

As his lips were right by where your jaw and neck connect, you felt your breathing hitch. You pulled yourself closer, unaware that the movement had caused you to rub against Dino's hardening boner. His teeth sink into your neck before he began sucking on it to ease the temporary ache.

He needed to get you home. Or at least somewhere where nobody could walk in on you two.

"You drive me absolutely mad, baby girl. I'm so lucky." "And I'm all yours," you reminded him again.

His mind got fuzzy at the softness of your voice. He squeezed your hips lovingly before letting his tongue glide over the reddish-purple hickey forming on your neck. Just one mark that would remind everyone who you belonged to.

"I guess I'm not filming dance rehearsal today," Minghao announced.

Hearing Minghao's voice, you blushed hard. You were going to move off of Dino, wanting to apologize for the PDA. Yet, Dino didn't let you move. If anything, his grip tightened on you to keep you planted on his lap.

Also so Minghao didn't see the boner that was becoming more and more prominent.

Dino slowly pulled away before looking over at his older member. His body was a bit relaxed even though he still wished he could swap places with Minghao in a few minutes. Minghao looked amused, not knowing that his younger brother could get jealous so easily.

"Sorry, Minghao," Dino chuckled. 'I just couldn't help myself." "You could have at least waited until rehearsal was done. At least you didn't make my dance partner too sore she couldn't move. I'd like to just finish and get one ore run-through down."

The two of you nodded, understanding Minghao's request. You were here to help him after all. Turning towards your boyfriend, you kissed his cheek lingeringly. You could feel his smile grow beneath the kiss. "We'll pick up later," you promised him.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

As you pushed yourself up off of his lap, there was a loud gasp behind you. "Dude, you have a boner?! In our dance studio?! I'm going to have to bleach my eyes after this!"

And there's the normal dynamic Dino was used to.

[ur-boyfiend]

hai , here's some chan x reader fluffy domestic stuff, if anyone wants to see a continuation lemme know ^^

you’re lying in bed on your back, eyes closed and earbuds in.  your skills at zoning out are strong, so you’re not very aware of your surroundings. you don’t have any plans for today, but your friends and boyfriend like to stop by unannounced, so you don’t particularly expect to be left alone all day. 

that’s why you’re not that surprised when you feel someone's weight drop on top of you. you pause your music and pull out your earbuds, looking up slightly to see a mop of curly blond hair. laughing quietly, you gently run your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair, and he leans into your touch. 

“what’s goin’ on channie?” he seems more tired than usual, which is saying something. he mumbles something in response, but his face is still buried in your chest so you can’t actually tell what he’s saying. 

“love, i can’t hear you.” 

he lifts his head up to look at you, and his expression almost reminds you of an upset puppy, “people don’t know how to do their jobs. i came in and nobody had finished their part of the project, you could tell they all expected me to finish it for them. so now i’m doing the entire project myself.”

you frown, knowing that being one of the best students in the music department meant people assumed chan would do their work for them if they asked. you’ve given plenty of students deadly side-eye when they tried to bother chan, but most of them just try again when you’re not there. 

“can you tell your professor?” 

chan just shakes his head, “i don’t wanna tell the professor because that’d give them the chance to get their shit together. i’ll just do the project myself and leave their names off of it, their loss.”

you laugh quietly, appreciating the pettiness. you were probably a bad influence, but because of chan’s default sweetheart personality, you were glad he wasn’t letting people take advantage of him anymore. 

“if there’s any way i can help let me know, alright?” 

“you have your own classes to work on, i don’t wanna use up your work time.” 

you shake your head, “the biggest assignment i have right now is my end of semester project for my visual arts class, my team for the year end fashion show is actually ahead of where we need to be since we’re all prone to hyperfocusing on the work.” 

chan grumbled slightly, “imagine having a team that do their work, what a concept.” 

you gently scratch at his scalp, still running your fingers through his hair, “is there anyone else in your class you could team up with? maybe not for this project, but for future ones?” 

chan shrugs, “i try not to interact with people unless they interact with me first, i don’t need to prompt people to bug me.” 

you snort, knowing how he feels. people used to treat you the same way, the difference is you’re just a lot more intimidating than him, and people figured out pretty quickly that you weren’t gonna do their work for them. 

“i think one of my friends was talking about his boyfriend needing a new team for his assignment, i’m pretty sure another one of our friends is in a similar situation… lemme ask real quick.” 

he hums in confirmation and you grab your phone from where it sat abandoned on the low shelf next to your bed, quickly putting in your passcode and opening the ‘dance hoes’ groupchat. you know each other because of how often the performance and fashion departments work together, everyone in the chat had done modeling for you at some point. 

you send a quick text, ‘hey can the catboys get online?’

quickly you get responses from two of the other chat members, both asking what was going on, one much more kindly than the other. you’re pretty sure chan has fallen asleep on you, but you keep playing with his hair as you ask the pair about what they’d mentioned earlier. 

they both give quick confirmation, and you explain your idea. both disappear for a second, before confirming that their boyfriends were down to meet up with everyone. you decide to work out a meeting time later, so you set aside your phone and curl up with chan, tugging a blanket over both of you and closing your eyes, falling asleep in your boyfriend’s arms.

[kittyball23]

Memory (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: JD, Spruce, and Clay come to terms with their Grandmother Rosiepuff’s fate

A/N: Requested by JoltJackalope on Wattpad :)

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe she’s… gone.”

Spruce said the words slowly, like he was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his Grandma had died. John Dory and Clay peered at him with similar looks of disbelief.

“I mean, I guess I can believe it,” Clay spoke up in response, “but just… not the way Branch said it happened…” He thought about how their youngest brother had described it, picturing a Bergen swiping her away to a terrible fate. His stomach churned in an unpleasant manner.

John Dory’s imagination wasn’t too different, and it made him feel guilty. Being the oldest, he had the most memories of their Grandmother. How she’d supported the five of them, encouraged them to follow their dreams and cheered them on as they did so. One particular moment stuck out to John Dory. And, unbeknownst to him, the moment he was thinking of was a significant one in Spruce and Clay’s memories too…

“Let me take you to a better plaaaace,

I’m gonna make you kiss the sky tonight

Yeah if you let me show the waaay,

I’m so excited, to see you excited!”

John Dory just couldn’t seem to quit singing. He was proud of their song - it was catchy, and a hit among everybody in the crowd who’d come to see their band. Singing it twice didn’t seem to be cutting it, but the show had to come to an end. Thankfully, he could rest at ease knowing that he and his brothers would perform again.

While JD was more focused on the performance part of it, Spruce couldn’t help but recall how many girls he’d made faint after they’d caught a glimpse of his exquisitely toned body. Clay on the other hand was a bit sore, having given it his all when it came to the dancing, but he knew it was completely worth the grand applause the audience had given afterwards.

“They loved us!” their younger brother Floyd exclaimed, looking absolutely touched by the prospect of so many Trolls supporting their music as he made his way backstage with the others.

“Of course they loved you, sweetie,” a gentle voice responded. The boys grinned a tad wider when their Grandma approached them, with Baby Branch inside of a little carrier at her front. The youngest BroZone brother was only a couple months old, still not able to join his older bros up on the stage to dance and sing just yet, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t cheer them on. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and blurbled happily.

“You were ALL wonderful,” Grandma Rosiepuff continued, gently leaning over to caress Floyd’s cheek. He blushed a little and she chuckled fondly. “Do you know why?”

The magenta Trolling looked up at her. “Why?” he asked in a small, curious voice.

“Because each of you is special,” she responded. She looked over at JD first and smiled.

“John Dory, you had a dream and you made it come true. You created an amazing band that you love being a part of.  Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.”

JD beamed. He liked the sound of that! Grandma was right. His brothers believed in him. And he believed in his brothers. They could accomplish TONS of things if they just continued to work together as a team!

Their Grandma addressed Spruce next. “Spruce, you have a passion burning inside of you unlike anybody else I’ve seen. You'll succeed on what you set your mind to, so long as you never let it burn out."

Spruce smiled at her. “I won’t, Grandma,” he promised.

“Ooo, ooo, me next!” Clay called out, jumping up and down, and raising his hand up in a playful manner.

Rosiepuff giggled. “Clay, being able to make anybody laugh is a fantastic gift. You’re a fun little guy, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem knowing how to keep things real when they matter.”

“Nope, I don’t think so either!” Clay chimed back in reply, living up to his jokey personality and doing a goofy little dance.

Rosiepuff had to laugh again, and then spoke to Floyd. “Floyd. Your talent to write songs is beyond incredible. You don’t have to be afraid to sing or dance in front of a lot of people - you have great friends by your side.” She gestured behind him at John Dory, Spruce, and Clay. “If you ever feel like you’re in trouble, just know that they’ll be there for you. Always.”

Floyd responded by giving his Grandma a hug.

In the baby carrier, Branch giggled.

“And I can’t forget about you, Branch!” Rosiepuff said, nuzzling the top of his rich blue hair. “You, my little boy, are so lucky. You have the best big brothers in the world!”

Branch babbled something babyish that they knew meant he was so grateful for it.

Rosepuff smiled down at him, and then opened up her arms to the others. “Come here, boys!”

John Dory, Spruce, and Clay crowded around to join their Grandma, Floyd, and Branch, all warm and happy in her embrace...

... And feeling nothing like that now.

John Dory sure wished his Grandma could hug him right there and then and provide the comfort he needed. Her hugs always felt like they could cure anything, including the guilt he felt for not upholding to her words.

Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.

Well, he hadn’t had his brothers by his side, and he hadn’t achieved his goal of having BroZone be together forever.

Spruce hadn’t let his passion die down… in some respects. Of those did not include performing though, which he felt bad for. His Grandmother would’ve perhaps been happy that he was able to start and raise his very own family, but a little sad to see that he didn’t have that desire to get up on a stage and sing anymore like he’d used to. He had tried to bury his boyband days behind him, going as far as to even change his name.

For Clay, it was very rare for a joke to slip past his lips nowadays. Grandma had told him to keep things real when they mattered, though he’d taken it to a much farther level. In fact, his humorous side had almost gone away completely. He no longer chuckled or snickered as often as he used to, and he'd believed that being serious was the way he should continue about his life. But, if he was being truthful, he really did miss that side of him that Grandma said could make anybody laugh. Snubbing it felt like snubbing his Grandmother.

Regardless of their individual reasonings, all three brothers felt as though they'd let her down.

John Dory hadn't realized that the one person he might've wanted to speak to again - aside from the brothers he'd silently hoped he'd make up with one day - was his Grandma. There was so much he wanted to tell her about his adventures out with his caterbus Rhonda, seeing the world.

Spruce would've liked to have told her much about his newfound understanding about relationships, and the true love he'd found with his wife that was so much better than any meaningless fling he'd previously had in his youth.

Clay ached to hear her sweet little laugh again, seeing the smile spread on her face that was because of a joke he'd cracked, and wanting to show her the cool tuck-and-roll trick he'd learned in Putt Putt Village.

A simultaneous sigh heaved from the three brothers.

"I mean, we could see her again one day... right?" Spruce asked.

John Dory didn't understand. "Bro, Branch said she died, though!"

"No, dude, he meant, like, somewhere else," Clay clarified, gesturing an arm up and out, the direction towards the sky.

JD cocked his head, not sure what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, until it came to him. His brothers were talking about a better place, one that was not their world full of troubles and regrets. One where Grandma Rosiepuff was free of her suffering, and where they may go one day when they grew old themselves and passed on.

"Ohhh," he said, nodding once and answering honestly.

"Yes. I think so."

__________________________________________ A/N: I guess this could take place when the brothers are waiting for Branch to return after my oneshot "By Your Side"? (and for that matter, before the oneshot "Reconciled")

[elainsgirl]

why do people deny what elriel has? It baffles me that people actually try to make their scenes they have together into something else and saying its not romantic. we elriel's get called delusional for believing our couple could be endgame even when they have multiple scenes together that backs up our opinions and not one bonus scene that people just nitpicked and did everything they could possibly do to see if their ship could be endgame?!?

sorry, but, no. Im going to keep believing in elriel because I actually read the books and I don't just stick to a bonus chapter and believe a ship could possibly be endgame. thats like with cassian and emerie, when people thought they would end up together, and guess what? they didnt! like we are going down the same road again people!

Also. The fact that people are trying to make gwyn into a main character is laughable. why can't we see that she's just a side character with potential? why are people trying to replace elain with her??? "rhys will love gwyn and be besties" "auntie gwyn" "gwyn will be the savior". im actually sick and tired of acting like I actually cared about gwyn (I liked her character obviously) but she was just there to me, just like emerie. This fandom is just something else.

Hey Anon, I hope you’re having a great day 🫶

I totally get the frustration & annoyance, trust me, it gives you a headache trying to wrap your head around how people are genuinely doubting elriel over a ship that doesn’t even have any romantic scenes. I mean, elriel - a couple which goes back 3-4 books, is genuinely being rivaled with Gwynriel? Two characters that canonically don’t even want each other? They’re being so forecefully shipped over the silliest things. “Gwyn glanced at Azriel in Ch43? Omg its soooo clear she has feelings for him 🤭”

“Did you notice the way Azriel half turned when Gwyn squeaked? AHHHH HE LITERALLY CAN’T HELP NOTICING HER ITS SOOO ROMANTIC!”

Yet when it comes to elriel?

“Elain blushed bcs Az smiled at her? Pffft Sjm was just trying to show us how uncomfortable and awkward Azriel makes Elain” (no joke this was something an anti actually argued once)

You know what happened w that bonus chapter? It was over-exaggerated and over-romanticised.

Imagine this. You absolutely hate elriel and when you first read the bonus, your worst nightmares have come true. Azriel is in fact wanting Elain. There is a mutual attraction and want between them. Your hope that Elain secretly wanted Lucien has gone up in flames or the hope that Azriel didn’t actually want the blandest character in the series has also gone up in flames. Your distraught. Disappointed but then comes along another fmc in the bonus. A female character you actually like, over elain. Ofc you’re going to use that as a way to ship her w Az instead of accepting the obvious. Elain & Az are endgame. Poor Gwyn is simply a self-insert as well as the “better” option for Azriel as she is more widely liked. Her whole interaction w Azriel has been so inflated that when you look at it with unbiased lens, you just find it silly.

How many times have we been told that the shadows love gwyn? That they’re so playful with her? That they performed an entire salsa with Gwyn? Going off this alone, it seems so romantic right? Yet when you actually read the scene,

“Her breath curled in front of her mouth, one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. As thought it had heard some silent music”

How disappointing is that scene compared to the way Gwynriels promote it? The shadows aren’t given any emotions. There is no way to tell they’re being playful. Its not even plural, it was one shadow that danced with gwyns breath. It can’t just be me finding this so unbelievably plain.

Then you get told by gwynriels that Gwyn and Az bantered! They had a simple conversation in which Gwyn herself couldnt care less + Azriel actively was trying to be polite. “Gwyn allows Az to open up so much! We find out he sings” im being honest- if you made it this far not knowing Azriel is a singer despite it being in the literal name, shadowsinger, thats just you being odd. Can’t forget the kicker - “The image sparkkng in his chest, where it glowed quietly”.

But you know what? This could have just been an amusing crackship. Yet, its when antis come for elriel with their stupid takes that get you annoyed especially when its just mischaracterising Elain and Az purposely. THAT becomes bothersome. EL and GA stans have turned Azriel into a toxic, possessive incel that needs to be isolated in therapy away from all women - excluding Gwyn, ofc, gwynnie is the ONLY one that can help him through his disturbing issues bcs Gwynnie is just the best. She will make him realise how foolish he was being over Elain. How his feelings - Az questioning his belief, religion and system, being ready to fight a BD for her, wanting to beg on his knees for Elain were simply a front bcs he didn’t want to admit he’s falling in love w his little gwynnie poo.

Elain? She’s just confused. She doesn’t know what she wants. She’s in denial, Elain can’t handle how badly she wants Lucien, she’s trying to push it all down. You know whats the funniest? Eluciens yap day and night about how toxic Az & the IC are for infantilizing Elain yet the little hypocrites do the exact same thing when it comes to Elains character. Or they apparently need her pov to know how she truly feels about Lucien bcs Elain losing her boldness and saying verbally - she doesn’t want a mate, is not enough.

. They have to make elriel toxic bcs thats the only way their ships can happen. Its not possible otherwise.

As you said, elriels dont need the bonus. The ship is more then canon within the books, the bonus simply gives more insight into Azriels character in acosf, but gwynriel? The bonus is their entire foundation. Without it they have nothing aside some out of context scenes. For eluciens? They need the bonus to back up their whole “elriel is toxic agenda”.

Keep on shipping elriel, anon. You’re shipping a couple that have had genuine interest in each other, that have had multiple scenes developing them from Azriel figuring out elain is a seer when only her her mate was suppose to figure it out, too Nesta noticing a charged glance. From Azriel staying up late at night talking to Elain too Elain gifting him a personalised headache powder. Elucien & gwynriel have absolutely nothing when compared too elriel. Im sorry, but Az chuckling bcs of Gwyn isn’t compared too when Elain made him laugh so joyously it cleared the shadows from his eyes. Elain, who mentioned nothing when Lucien showed up hurt - went out of her way to make Azriel a headache powder to help him feel better.

people would ship Az with anyone. They’re that desperate for another Li aside from Elain. I can guarantee you, if there was another fmc Az had interacted with, gwynriels would split so damn fast - kind of like what happened when Bryce and Az interacted. Antis were so desperate - they shipped Az and emerie in acofas calling Elriels toxic for not succumbing to the likeliness of that ship. Its a cycle. Fandom hates certain character in a ship, looks for alternative ship, ships them, ship sinks and fails then they have to accept the ship they hated sm. Cycle continues.

Didn’t you know anon? Since Gwyn has a second name and her heritage is known- it immediately means she is now THE most important character especially over Elain. Whose an archeron. The family the spinoffs are about. But that doesn’t matter. Gwyn does not follow the typical fmc pattern sjm has laid out, she isn’t a main character anytime soon. Her stans love saying she is due to her appearance in the bonus but elain also appeared in Azriels AND Feysands bonus. Going by their own logic, Elain is the next fmc. Gwyn was a lovely character in acosf, but she isn’t set to be a main character. Elain was. Gwyn was created for Nesta, she’s Nesta’s bestie. Almost eveything about Gwyn, is linked to Nesta. We have now had Nesta’s story,therefore Gwyn has served her main purpose.

Even gwynriels know that gwyn isn’t an important character as of now bcs she has no ties to the IC. She hasn’t met Feyre, the Main character and sjms biggest voice in the series. Gwyn and Rhys aren’t buddies. He will be a Hl to her. She is simply Nestas friend. Nothing more.

I used to like her character but gwynriels and her stans kept on shoving her down my throat yapping about how awesome & great she is compared to Elain, who was boring. Her stans hated elain so much, bringing her down whilst uplifting Gwyn that I now just can’t stand Gwyn. I haven’t reread acosf bcs I don’t want to go through any gwyn scenes. I dont interact w Gwyn content either. I viewed Gwyn the same way you did. She was a side character to Nestas story. She was great, but didnt stick out to me.

As sad as it sounds, the only reason so many people are obsessed with Gwyn is Bcs they’ve potrayed her as another Li for Azriel. Otherwise, she would have been treated the same way Emerie has been treated. As a side character.

Just to end off: Anon, Gwynriels and Eluciens make themselves look foolish when they claim elriel aren’t romantic or obvious. How am I suppose to take their ships seriously when they can’t even acknowledge elriels’ foreshadowing and romance clearly displayed in the books? If you’re claiming you saw absolutely nothing going on between elriel - but gwynriel were so obvious to you - then thats just embarrassing for you. It’s clear that there’s some denial going on.

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Part Eight

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: The Winter Fete goes smoothly, a perfect evening followed by a foiled assassination. A few days later, you and Aleksander journey into the Fold.

Warnings: canon level violence, minor character death (not graphic).

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist • Next Part

Music and conversation fills the ballroom of the Little Palace, as noble men and women mingle amongst the Grisha, all decked out in their finery for the Winter Fete.

The people are still buzzing with excitement after Alina’s performance. The power of the stag has given her a new burst of confidence, and you’re glad to see her step into her power.

Aleksander appears behind you, his head tilted down to speak directly into your ear.

“The matter has been dealt with.”

When you had warned Aleksander of an assassination attempt on Alina within the walls of the Little Palace, you know he had been upset. The thought of any of his Grisha not being safe here must be distressing for him. As a result, you had left the issue with Aleksander.

You nod, raising your drink to your lips as you murmur your response.

“Genya and Marie?”

“Both safe and unharmed.”

“Alina?”

“With Fedoyr. He will not leave her side unless she is with either of us.”

“And the perpetrator?”

At one point, you might have thought all your questions would annoy Aleksander, but now you know that he would never look down at you for being prepared.

“In custody. I will see to him later this evening.”

“I’ll join you.” His lips part, as if he’s about to protest. “Please. I want to know if I’m right about his motive.”

Aleksander nods slowly, though you can see the reluctance in his eyes. You wouldn’t be in any danger, but perhaps he doesn’t want you to see him while he interrogates someone. As if that would ever drive you away.

“You look incredible, might I add.” He says in a low voice that has a shiver running down your spine.

Warmth spreads over your cheeks, and you look down at your outfit. You and Genya had collaborated on the design, and you are very pleased with the result. The material is wonderful, and it fits you perfectly.

“I see you’ve brought your summer colours out early for occasion. A bold move.” You tease, referring to his black kefta. The same kefta that he wears every day. He narrows his eyes at you, and you take another drink.

“Your fiancé is approaching.” You nearly choke on your drink in alarm.

“What? Why?”

Once your gaze lands on Vasily, you see that he is indeed heading in your direction, and you turn to Aleksander with wide eyes. The corner of his mouth quirks in amusement as he answers.

“I believe he wants to dance with you.”

You place your glass down on a nearby tray, and begin to fidget with the chunky emerald ring on your finger.

“Oh no.”

Genya had helped to teach you the basics of all the dances that would be held at the Fete, but you’re far from confident. Certainly not confident enough to dance with a Prince - let alone the Crown Prince that you’re engaged to.

“Your Highness.” Aleksander greets him with a bow, and you do the same. Vasily smiles politely at you both.

“Might I steal your assistant from you, General Kirigan?”

“I’m off duty tonight.” You remark, and Aleksander sends a look at you, no doubt reminding you to pretend that you’re enjoying your engagement.

“Then I am most lucky.” Vasily says with a smile that looks incredibly forced. You mirror his smile, and decide to show Aleksander exactly how good you are at pretending.

“I believe I’m the lucky one, Your Highness.” He inclines his head.

“Vasily, please.” He insists. “Would you care to join me for the next dance?”

First name basis already. You are engaged after all, but the two of you have only exchanged a handful of conversations over the last month, which has been quite a relief.

You have the distinct impression that he’s only asking you to dance because of his mother’s insistences. Looking down for a brief moment, you smile and offer him your hand.

“I would love to dance with you, Vasily.”

He takes your hand, leading you through the crowd, and you cast one final look at Aleksander before he disappears from your view.

Vasily leads the dance, and you misstep on a number of occasions, your face burning with embarrassment every time. The conversation isn’t too awkward, despite several pauses as you go through the motions of the dance.

He asks you a few questions about yourself, and your answers don’t require too much thought. Remembering his interest in horse racing, you decide to mention the subject. For the first time, his face lights up, and he explains about his most recent purchase.

You know very little of horses, only what Aleksander has taught you, but you try to follow his explanations as best as possible.

Once you finally get into the flow of it, you think you could enjoy dancing. Only as soon as you start to think that, the music draws to a close.

When you step off the dance floor, the two of you linger beside one another for a long moment. You wonder whether he wants you to stay by his side now. Then someone calls out his name, and he turns in their direction.

Looking back at you for a brief moment, he gestures towards them.

“Please excuse me.” He says. You nod, bowing your head politely.

“Thank you for the dance.”

A slightly apologetic smile tugs at your lips as you remember the small wince on his face when you had accidentally kicked his shin. He takes your hand in his own.

“Have a wonderful evening.” He tells you, rather distractedly, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. Then he steps away, melting back into the crowd.

The eyes on you soon find something more interesting to look at, though you still feel the weight of them as you weave through the crowd back to Aleksander.

He smiles softly when he sees you, finishing the last of whatever drink he had secured while you were away.

“How was it?” He asks, and you breathe out a small laugh.

“I’m sure Zoya found it very funny. She’s usually the one I’m tripping over during combat practice.” He frowns slightly as he places his empty glass down.

“Fedoyr told me you were doing well.” Now it’s your turn to frown.

“He must have been exaggerating.”

“Very well then.” He holds his hand out to you, and your brows lift in questioning. “Show me these atrocious skills of yours.”

With a small sigh, you take his hand in yours. There’s no arguing with Aleksander, though if you weren’t in public you might have tried to. But he has a reputation to maintain, and people would question your relationship if you openly defied him in such a manner.

“I can understand why you might have some difficulty dancing with His Royal Highness.” Aleksander muses quietly as he leads you through the crowd.

“Because I’m a poor dancer?” He shakes his head.

“On the contrary.”

Raising a brow at him, you wait for him to elaborate as you take your position on the dance floor. Nerves fill you once again, at the thought of making a fool of yourself two dances in a row.

Aleksander’s hand settles on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and you look down quickly to check your feet. He hooks a finger under your chin, raising your eyes to meet his, and the pad of his thumb grazes delicately over your cheekbone. His next words are a low murmur that sends a thrill through you.

“You need to trust your partner.”

Then the music begins.

Aleksander leads, and every step you take is synchronised with his own. Not once do you tread on his toes as you spin around the ballroom in his arms.

With every turn and dip, you find yourself unable to look away from him, or to fight the smile growing on your face as the music sweeps you up.

“Is the Fete living up to your expectations?” He asks you. Your smile widens and you nod.

“It’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

Something softens in his eyes as he spins you around fully. You’re glad Aleksander had asked you to plan the Fete. It had been nice to think about more trivial things, like having the chandeliers polished or commissioning an ice sculpture, rather than tracking down a mythical creature or fighting a war.

There’s a moment of silence, before you decide to bring up what’s been lingering in the back of your mind all day. This is the first time you and Aleksander have truly had the chance to speak with one another today.

“Are you certain Baghra won’t try anything tonight?” Aleksander’s brows crease together for a moment.

“She shouldn’t. But I have my men keeping an eye on her, as a precaution.” You nod.

“I meant to ask you about it before, but with all the preparations going on, it slipped my mind.” He nods in understanding, and you smile almost sheepishly as you add, “I may have created my own contingency plan, just in case.”

The corner of his mouth quirks with the edge of a smirk.

“I’m hardly surprised to hear such a thing.” He spins you, pressing your back flush against his chest for the next few steps. His lips graze your ear as he asks, “What is it?”

Turning your head, your gaze settles on his lips before they drift up to his eyes, and you remember that he had asked you a question.

“Alina will be spending the night with Nadia and Marie. A Winter Fete sleepover. That way Baghra won’t be able to find her, or get her alone, and Alina remains unaware.”

“An excellent idea.” He praises, and your cheeks flush as he spins you back around to face him.

“Thank you.”

There’s a small smile on his lips as he observes your reaction.

“I believe I should also be thanking you.” At that, your brows draw together in a small frown.

“What for?”

“Tonight. You’ve made everything… quite perfect.”

A comfortable warmth settles in your chest, like the glow of the summer sun over your skin, and you watch his expression carefully as you speak your next words.

“I know you don’t particularly enjoy the Fete.” His lips part, as if he’s about to make some sort of excuse. “I can understand why. Grisha are people, not party tricks. You shouldn’t have to prove your value to anyone.”

There’s a moment of silence between you both, where the sounds of the ballroom fill the lack of conversation. Aleksander’s eyes move away from yours as he assures you in a small voice,

“I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

Once his eyes meet yours again, you see the emotion in them, and you’re surprised you don’t stumble over your feet. A soft smile touches your lips, as you respond in an equally low tone.

“I already know.”

Aleksander smiles.

“Of course you do.”

»»---------------------►

Zoya leads you and Aleksander down the rough stone stairs, your footsteps echoing.

“Has he talked?” Aleksander asks her.

“A lot of lies. Ivan’s with him.”

The iron gate swings open with a screech, and you follow the two of them down into the catacombs underneath the Little Palace.

Stone walls encase you, the small space illuminated by a plentiful number of torches, flickering their amber light over the shadows.

Ivan stands straight with his hands folded together, and beside him a man sits tied to a chair. The man has a shimmer of sweat glossing over his features, some bruises already forming on the side of his face, and his clothes are crumpled, evidently from a struggle.

“I’ve been swindled. Hoodwinked.” The man says, his wide eyes looking at each of you as you approach him.

“My guards tell me that they caught you at the scene of an attempted crime.” Aleksander states calmly, his hands resting unclasped on either side of him.

The man opens his mouth, gaping for a moment, his eyes frantic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, stumbling over his words. “I’m an entertainer. Oskar. Oskar Krepkov.”

Aleksander raises a brow at you.

“My assistant here organised every aspect of the Winter Fete. Including the entertainers. Does Mr Krepkov’s name ring a bell?”

Keeping your eyes on the man in front of you, a crease of feigned concentration crosses your face before you respond casually.

“Funnily enough, it doesn’t.”

“How peculiar.” He muses, walking slowly towards the bound man.

Grasping hard onto his forearm, Aleksander pushes the man’s sleeve up to reveal a series of black tally marks tattooed onto his inner arm. Each mark represents a successful trip across the Fold. There’s a startling number of them.

“Well that certainly is entertaining.” Aleksander says, his fingers pressing hard into the man’s skin. “You are the Conductor, Arken Visser, are you not?”

Visser swallows hard, trembling under Aleksander’s gaze. Once Aleksander releases him, he steps away, his jaw tense and his eyes dark with anger.

“You smuggle Grisha out of my palace.” Aleksander snarls furiously.

His frustration is tangible in the air, prickling over your skin. When Visser looks hopefully back at you, whimpering a quiet plea, your resentment rises to the surface and you snap.

“You profit off frightened children and desperate families. Don’t look to me for sympathy.”

If Aleksander is surprised by your outburst, he doesn’t show it.

“Would you like to hear my theory?” You ask lightly, but don’t wait for a response before you continue. “I think, a certain West Ravkan General has ambitions to rule his own country. To do so, the Fold would need to remain intact, which is where you come in, Mr Visser.”

The facade of frightened innocence slowly falls from his face with every word of your accusation. When you finish, Aleksander continues, circling Visser with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“You made a deal with him.” As Aleksander passes Ivan, the heartrender wisely moves out of the way. “You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin.”

Visser straightens, staring back at you both with a resolute expression as Aleksander returns to his place beside you.

“That’s right.” He says. “Zlatan offered me a million to kill the sun summoner. So, give me half that. I can get close to Zlatan.”

Aleksander turns his head aside, and Zoya unfolds her arms, turning to leave. Ivan pauses for a moment, before he follows her.

For a moment, Aleksander’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of questioning and acceptance lingering there. He’s expecting you to turn away. You remain at his side. As their footsteps recede, Aleksander says quietly,

“No. I think I’ll handle that myself.”

With that, he steps back, turning on his heel, and you do the same. Aleksander brings his hand up, curling his fingers lightly as he calls forth the shadows.

“But I can help.” Visser calls out as the two of you walk away. “Tell me how I can help.”

Aleksander pulls his hands together, cupping his fist for a moment before he releases his right hand. With two fingers pointing upwards, he flicks them back in a tossing motion as he remarks in a low voice.

“You already have.”

Even without looking, you can sense the shadows swarming from the depths of the catacombs, creeping towards Visser. You hear him struggling to break free, panic in his movements, as the shadows lengthen around him.

Aleksander holds the door open for you, as Visser chokes out his final breath in the shadows.

»»---------------------►

“You should rest.” Aleksander insists from where he’s sitting at the head of the makeshift bed in his tent. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

You shake your head, continuing to pace beside the foot of the bed. Tomorrow, you journey into the Fold. Hopefully, Alina will be able to fend off any volcra that come for you, but you’re still worried.

“Too much to think about.” You argue, but you still decide to lie down on the bed beside him regardless. Together you stare up at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Are you certain our plan for Zlatan will work?” He asks you. Mulling it over in your mind once again, you nod.

“If he’s coward enough to not risk crossing the Fold himself, a scare tactic like this will be enough to startle him and his followers. It’ll give us a time advantage to gain the upper hand. A show of strength, with limited casualties.”

Aleksander nods along with your reasoning, but you can’t suppress a small sigh as you run a hand over your face.

“I just hope I’m right.”

That isn’t the only thing weighing on your mind, and Aleksander seems to know this. His thumb rubs a slow circle against your bare forearm, that you’ve cast up over your head.

“Are you afraid of the Fold?” He asks softly.

There’s a pause before you admit,

“A little.”

He breathes out a small laugh.

“You don’t have to say only a little to spare my feelings.”

“Are you afraid of it?”

He goes silent at your question, but his thumb doesn’t stop its comforting motion. You wait patiently for whatever response he is considering.

“Did I ever tell Alina about Luda?”

There’s a softness in his voice, making his words feel fragile, and you study his face as you shake your head.

“She was a healer. The only healer we had at the time. There were less than twenty of us, in hiding, together.”

“When was this?” You ask in a near whisper.

“During Anastas’ rule.”

He nods grimly when he sees your expression sadden knowingly. Anastas was the King who placed a bounty on Aleksander’s head, dubbing him the Black Heretic, which eventually led to the creation of the Fold.

“She opened up a clinic, it was only a small cottage in the woods, but she wanted to help people.”

Looking up at Aleksander, you can see how distant his gaze is, lost in his memories.

“Ravka was growing worse for Grisha, day by day. I begged her to join us in hiding and she agreed, albeit reluctantly.”

His eyes darken, and you know the story is about to take a painful turn.

“The King’s guards found us before we could leave. Together, we tried to hold them off but Luda was wounded.” His jaw tenses. “I killed them all. But I couldn’t save her.”

Turning your body over to lie on your stomach and face Aleksander, you take his hand in your own. There’s a small smile on the edge of his lips, but he looks down sadly.

“She died because of me.”

You shake your head, and immediately try to comfort him.

“All you did was try to protect her.”

“And I failed.” There’s a sharpness in his eyes as he lifts his gaze up to meet yours. “I couldn’t stand it any longer. Watching my people die. Seeing them frightened and helpless. My grandfather thought merzost could be used to control people.”

The mention of merzost has your stomach plummeting. You hope that Aleksander will never have to resort to such measures again.

A different version of Aleksander, scarred and pale, exhausted by the creation of shadow monsters, fills your mind. An Aleksander you hope you will never see.

“I faced the King’s army alone, buying the few Grisha left enough time to get away. I tried to bend his army to my will.”

“Instead you created the volcra.” You say in a low voice. “Merzost always comes with a price.”

He nods slowly.

“My price was the Fold. Though I’m not the one who continues to pay for it.”

You can’t imagine how he must feel. Accidentally creating a blight that scars your country for centuries, claiming hundreds of lives. How heavily those losses must weigh on Aleksander’s shoulders.

“Alina never finds out how the Fold was created.” You tell him quietly, your thumb tracing over his knuckles delicately. Aleksander’s eyes are on you, as you watch the movement of your digit. “I think she just believes what Baghra tells her. That you created it in a mad ploy for power.”

“Did you ever believe that?” You shake your head.

“I always thought there was some sort of explanation for it.” Your eyes lift up to meet his. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“Thank you for staying to hear it.”

Neither of you speak after that, simply lying beside one another until you both fall asleep.

»»---------------------►

The next morning is bright and cold, despite the first signs of spring arriving. Pulling your cloak tighter around your body, you follow Aleksander and Alina as they walk through the camp at Kribirsk.

All around you, First Army soldiers stop and stare. Some kiss their saint tokens, while others pray openly for your safe passage. You don’t believe in the saints, but a small part of you hopes that prayers still carry some weight.

The rest of the passengers have already boarded the skiff, so the moment you set foot onto the deck, the final preparations are made. Alina stands at the head of the bow, staring the Fold head on with Mal at her side.

“Are you ready?” Aleksander asks you, coming to a stop at your side.

“I think so.”

He turns his head, looking up at Zoya. With a simple nod, he orders her to move the skiff. A breeze ruffles your hair as she calls forth the wind to fill the sails. The skiff moves forward, plowing resolutely towards the Fold.

No turning back now.

The darkness engulfs your vision, and without thinking you reach blindly for Aleksander. Even in the pitch black, you find him. His hand is warm, and he provides you with a comforting squeeze as his fingers curl tightly around yours.

Your eyes adjust slowly to the darkness, and the light of the blue lantern at the centre of the skiff provides you with some assistance.

As each second passes by, you grow more and more nervous. Alina’s hands remain at her sides, and the volcra cry out in the distance. Sickening screeches, that you’ve only ever heard in your nightmares.

“What are we waiting for?” You ask in a whisper.

Aleksander turns his head to look at the ambassadors and dignitaries assembled behind you. They shift nervously, looking around for any sign of movement lurking in the darkness.

“Building the anticipation.”

“As well as my stress levels.” You mutter, and Aleksander dips his head down to respond with amusement in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Ivan will keep an eye on your heart.”

How can he be joking at a time like this? Then he nods at Alina, and she casts her arms out.

Light blossoms out from within her, illuminating the deck of the skiff, and you breathe a sigh of relief. She channels her power into a long pathway, lighting the way for Zoya to guide the skiff onwards through the Fold.

In the distance you can see a bright dot of sunlight - Novokribirsk.

The sight of it brings some of your nerves back, as you remember what is to come - the rest of your plan.

Volcra continue to scream from within the Fold, and at one point a crooked talon reaches through the barrier of light, though it retreats with a whimper as the sun scorches its rotten skin.

The passengers seem much more at ease, and some even move to the side of the skiff to stare into the Fold.

Before you know it, you’ve reached the edge of the Fold, and the port at Novokribirsk is visible over the stretch of sand that covers the distance between you and Zlatan���s men waiting to ambush you. As Aleksander had ordered her previously, Zoya brings the skiff to a stop.

At your request, Aleksander had informed the Grisha about your plan. If things went awry, you wanted everyone to be on the same page - knowing that Zlatan is the enemy not Aleksander.

“One more demonstration.” Aleksander calls out, and the people behind you stare with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

In the book, Aleksander uses Alina’s power to push the Fold outwards. Because of you, he doesn’t have access to Alina’s power. But you still have hope.

In theory, Alina’s light has carved out a space within the Fold. That darkness still exists, her light has only moved it, and you’re hoping that Aleksander has the strength to redirect the darkness towards Novokribirsk.

There’s a small familiar rumble, as Aleksander begins to summon the shadows.

“You’ve all seen what the sun summoner can do. Now bear witness to what I can do, now that the Fold is ours to control.”

He brings his hands together.

A frightening storm of darkness surges forward, heading towards the town. Even from this distance, you can see people running away in terror. With any luck, Zlatan will be one of them.

Aleksander’s brows are furrowed in concentration, and for a brief moment you worry that he might not stop. Then he drops his hands. The darkness halts in its wake, skirting the edge of the docks.

Silence falls.

The Grisha and soldiers surrounding you grin wildly, shock and delight filling their faces. Ravka is no longer a deadbeat country, fighting wars it can never hope of winning. For the first time, in a long time, the people have hope.

Aleksander turns to the ambassadors.

“Take what you have seen back to your own countries. Tell the Shu Han. Tell the Fjerdans. The Fold is no longer the burden it once was for Ravka. We are entering a new age.”

You’re reminded of something Aleksander should have said to Alina, when they had journeyed to Os Alta at the beginning of the book. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end.

Aleksander looks back at you with triumph shining in his eyes.

The age of Grisha power has only just begun.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova @mxacegrey @budugu @cynthianokamaria @scarlettqueen190 @eloquentree @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sorrow-and-bliss @biblophilefox82 @tartiflvtte @rainbowgoblinfan

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

[official-wonho]

[INTERVIEW] K-pop Star Wonho Marks Return to Music After Military Enlistment

The Korean singer released his new English-language single "What Would You Do" ahead of his American fan tour this December.

In September, a little more than a week after completing his mandatory military enlistment, K-pop star Wonho returned to the stage — and to Wenee, his collective fanbase.

“I was so nervous that I wondered if I had ever been so nervous on stage,” says Wonho in November, two months after hosting his first “Welcome Back Wenee” fan event. “I think it was the most nervous I ever felt before, kind of where I felt my mind go blank. But I was really excited about meeting my fans — and by meeting them, I felt more alive after.”

Wonho is getting ready to reconnect with even more of his fanbase. The 31-year-old singer is coming Stateside in December for a multicity U.S. fan tour, which coincides with several performances as part of the annual holiday-season concert series “Jingle Ball.” “I haven’t seen them in a very long time,” he says of his American fans. “So I thought if not now, then when?”

It’s 10 p.m. on Friday night in Korea, and the singer is working late, discussing his upcoming projects over Zoom. He was one week out from releasing his first single and music video since going on hiatus in late 2022, the English-language ballad “What Would You Do.” “This single was kind of a surprise for my fans, and I’ve been watching and seeing their reactions every day,” says Wonho, who references his gratitude for his fans in response to almost every question about his career and time away from the industry.

The singer has given fans a behind-the-scenes look at his return to music this fall through a series of videos, showcasing moments like him getting fitted for his first fan event, attending dance rehearsals, and attending Seoul Fashion Week in October. 

“I didn’t have to show my good looks to anyone during military service,” says Wonho, who has distinguished his visual identity through a muscular physique. “To be honest, I gained a little bit of weight and I didn’t really care that much about my style. But as we saw in the outfit-fitting video, after I tried on different outfits, I [realized] that I needed to get back into working out more.” 

While he concedes fashion choices to his stylists when it comes to his public appearances, Wonho adds that he tends to personally gravitate toward Japanese brands and silhouettes that are easy to move in. “These days, I really like outfits that are oversized and comfortable, but I can wear the same outfit to dance practice or to work out or to a fancier event. I like having an outfit that encompasses all of these different styles,” he says.

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the minnesota wild as High School Musical characters

did I take this too seriously? yes. have I spent the last week thinking about this? also yes. anyway, the context: we were assigned the wildcats by a swede. @babygirlspurgeon kept tagging things with HSM lyrics. @wildaboutmnhockey created the masterpiece video of the mn wild set to getcha head in the game. so now here I am!!! this has been meticulously constructed with the help of my friend who doesn't know anything about the wild beyond what I tell her (shoutout to zoe for being balls to the wall no matter what I throw at her! who else will discuss the misc. cunt levels of the wild players with me). anyway to make this easier on ourselves we constructed a reality wherein High School Musical is being recreated on ice & instead of basketball in the plot it's hockey, so this is NOT about who's most like a character etc (though that ended up being a large part of it anyway whoops), but who could embody them best in a production of it. since the cast for HSM is not...particularly large, I was really getting down into the weeds with minor parts to fit (almost) the whole roster in here, so most everyone has their moment!!! anyway. and lastly. I am just saying that mounting this show during intermissions could maybe fix the nightmare this season has been & bring the team together. because they are. after all. all in this together.

tldr: this is basically a fancast of HSM using only the minnesota wild. I am not explaining myself any further

***

Troy Bolton // Matt Boldy

look. we really had to waffle between many options for Troy and this is where we ended up. my thoughts on matt boldy have been semi-well documented at this point, so mr. white bread bimbo feels like an organic option for this role. I feel like he can really serve us some mid-range semi-insensitive high school jock realness + angst without trying too hard. plus: I feel like he'll play off Shawzy as Gabriella really well.

Gabriella Montez // Mason Shaw

for as fucking annoying as Gabriella is at points, there's an earnest authenticity there that shawzy so easily embodies. his "let's play hockey" moment from playoffs 2023........he has the emotional RANGE and will murder When There Was Me and You in cold blood. plus, much like gabriella does for troy in HSM, mason will be able to coax that emotional performance from boldy as troy with his whole do-it-for-shawzy energy. what else can be said!!! the boys love him!! so don't worry, shawzy!! you soon will be soaring. flying. and breaking free.

Sharpay Evans // Marcus Foligno

marcus foligno the man that you are. he can and WILL serve the cunt necessary to be Sharpay. he will commit body and soul to bringing this role to life, though we may have to adjust the line "evaporate, tall person" to be more appropriate. anyway. I would give SO much in this life to see moose perform Bop to the Top. who will fund this with me.

Ryan Evans // Mats Zuccarello

known funky little man mats zuccarello does SO WELL as Ryan in my mind. his dancing has been well documented so you KNOW he's gonna absolutely kill the game with those jazz squares (it's a crowd favorite! everybody loves a good jazz square), plus his affable, everyman, team-first energy is exactly what the role of ryan demands. also: the idea of him as ryan and foligno as sharpay....chef's kiss.

Chad Danforth // Ryan Hartman

hartzy...hype man for the boys...put him a series of shirts with chirpy slogans on them for my enjoyment please!!! then make him walk around with sports props for the entire production. anyway, hartzy gives me the requisite jock bro energy necessary to pull off chad's role, as well as the bitchiness needed to essentially sabotage something that is making his best buddy troy happy. plus. I'm just SAYING. given chad and ryan's dynamic in HSM2. I am eyeing him and zuccy with anticipation.

Taylor McKessie // Joel Eriksson Ek

he's going the distance. he's going for speed. he's being cast as the tenacious captain of the scholastic decathlon team. mr. september is nothing but committed to his craft and this seriousness and dedication is EXACTLY what we need for taylor. that being said, our boy jeek is up for some shenanigans given the right situation, so will he manufacture a situation to rudely disrupt the decathlon & basketball finals? but of course!!

Kelsi Nielsen // Connor Dewar

who ELSE is going to bring enough weird girl energy to the table?? I feel like dewey 2 would take this SO seriously and the role of kelsi, while at times beyond fucking annoying, demands nothing but sincerity and dedication. he wouldn't be able to NOT take this seriously. this man has also stated that he would be a writer if not for hockey, so we can really get some method acting up in this bitch. essentially: put a bowler hat on that beast and watch him go.

Ms. Darbus // Marc-Andre Fleury

this role had to be rotated in my mind a lot before settling on a casting choice. I mean, goalies are weird, and I feel like flower would bring jussssst enough bizarro energy that would perfectly drive a middle-aged thespian who, for some reason, allowed a high school student to write and mount a musical that seems to make little to no sense. maybe it's all part of a large prank. who knows.

Coach Bolton // Jake Middleton

I can't pretend this is anything other than typecasting, I'm so sorry. I can't look at middsy without being reminded of the dad from Inside Out, plus "the mustache is saying pushing 50" according to my friend. I can also perfectly envision middsy yelling WHAT ARE THOSE TWO DOING IN A TREE with great dedication, so. assigned dilf at HSM casting

Lucille Bolton // Jared Spurgeon

does spurge deserve a larger role? maybe. possibly. probably. but look: once we cast middsy as troy's dad, spurgeon was quick to follow as troy's mom. who are we to fight the natural sexual chemistry of these two? anyway. assigned milf at HSM casting

Jason Cross // Brandon Duhaime

typecast as dumb jock from a team of jocks. what does that say about you, mr. duhaime??? anyway, dewey 1 is really going to deliver on the clueless but loyal bro vibes here. as a bonus. a very IMPORTANT bonus. I have to note that at the end of All in this Together jason is the one to remove kelsi's bowler hat and help her shoot a basket in a VERY flirtatious manner. and I AM all about putting the deweys in that situation, so help me god.

Zeke Baylor // Frédérick Gaudreau

he IS a sweetheart!!!!! a sweetheart!!!!! someday you WILL make the perfect crème brûlée, freddy!!! & your boys will love you for it!!!!

Martha Cox // Brock Faber

the glasses are giving nerd. and then THIS is giving pop and lock and jam and break.

Skater Who Plays the Cello // Jon Merrill

do I need to explain this one????? c'mon. he's so believable as a skater kid and ALSO as someone who plays the cello. the duality of man is contained in jonny "vibes" merrill.

(tbc)