#which literally just did not occur to me i was like what about my wave screams predator...

[vamptastic]

I keep forgetting that my voice now has me reading as a cis gay guy most of the time. It throws me off a lot

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[solarnomoon]

tame - nishimura riki

ni-ki always stood out to you, or atleast, in his own way. when you started noticing him more, it was easy to like him.

pairing >>> ni-ki x male reader

tags >>> college au, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings >>> swearing, substance usage, suggestive themes

wc >>> 3,073 words

author's note >>> ni-ki is just so freaking pretty i want to give him the biggest hug and never let go＼(≧▽≦)／ also js remember this is ooc also if you guys ever to just talk about random enhypen stuff or virtually anything im always down to talk n stuff anyway i hope u guys enjoy this one!! it kinda spawned out of nowhere and also all over the place so idk lol bye!!

it wasn’t like you to fall for a boy so easily. at least, not in the way that occurred, especially for a guy like nishimura riki. it was cheesy, to say the least: you two have been acquaintances since middle school, quite literally knowing each other for 6 years now, even now attending the same university (completely unintentional, of course). you always just kinda knew him as that lovely kid that was the same height as you, even throughout high school. don't get it twisted, you weren't that tall, but regardless of the fact, he was the same height.

the first time you saw him the summer after high school was at your orientation. you were placed in the 12th group, and when you reached the meeting spot, you noticed riki immediately, much, much taller than before, giving you two a height difference that wasn't present before. the second thing you noticed was the drop of his voice, which you discerned from his "yo, y/n!" coupled with a slight wave.

"ni-ki? what-" and before you even finished your sentence, the orientation leader interrupted, telling the group as a whole that they were about to start as you happened to be the last person they were waiting for. your conversation had to be put on halt until 20 minutes later where she began a tour of the school.

while you began to follow the group to the first destination, ni-ki reconvenes with you after speaking to a couple of the other group members, nudging your shoulder with his own to get your attention. "y/n, i didn't know you committed here? i thought you were gonna go to ucla for sure," he questions you with a voice of slight familiarity.

"no yeah, i was, but i thought about it and i just wanted to go here." he hums in acknowledgment, giving a few seconds of downtime before you begin to speak again. "dude, when did you become so tall? and have that deep ass voice? weren't we like basically the same height a few months ago?"

a few other differences were left unspoken but assumed nonetheless. first off, his hair, which historically was left black and much shorter throughout highschool, but now was longer with an ombré effect going from a light grey to black at the ends. secondly, his style, which flipped 180 from sweatpants and a normal shirt to something straight out of k-dramas. and lastly, his piercings, double lobes with a helix on both. or maybe one? point is, he looked good. too good.

he laughs, knowing this must come as a shocker to you because last time you checked, he was completely anew. "well for one, i turned 18 and was basically allowed to do whatever i wanted with my body. for some reason i went through a second puberty," he signals your height difference by putting his hand out flat at the top of your head and then bringing it to his, just shrugging. "also, i got a modeling job that allowed me to buy random ass clothes. so... yeah!"

your mouth slightly ajar combined with your head tilt let him know you were still in fact lost, so he continued on. "well, you know that dance group i've been in since a few years ago right?" the nod coming from your stature allowed him to finish the thought, "so basically some of the guys in that group like... told? their manager about me and gave me a chance to attend one of their casting calls, and i made the cut."

the group stops in front of the library, allowing you guys to sit down at one of the slabs nearby, half listening to your tour guide, but more focused on conversing with one another because you two had already toured the school when filling out college applications.

"wait, congrats ni-ki, that's insane!" you turn to him, giving him a quick cheeky smile with two thumbs up, and he just chuckles at you, putting his face into his hands at the sight of your cuteness playfulness. "what, did i say something wrong?"

"n-no, it's just... nevermind..." he tsks at you, not wanting to reveal the fact that he found you cute for a second.

you two continued to chat about anything and everything, eventually learning more about the guy that you would've never known previously. for one, he hates the color pink, even though all of his friends tell him that the color suits him—even his model designer thinks pink is his most suitable color. you also learned that the group that he's apart of, enhypen, is actually pretty popular on tiktok and youtube: garnishing over 4 million subs on youtube and 2 million followers on tiktok. he's also been with his group for multiple years now, and you even met some of them at sports events and stuff, like sunoo and jay.

other things include the fact that he has an older and a younger sister, he loves to dance, he likes to play piano, and one time he met jung ho-yeon before she was on squid game and he was so confused on why they looked so familiar, he thought they were long lost siblings or something. then he found out that she's korean.

he still believes it though...

soon enough, you guys find yourselves at the end of the orientation, having made friends with others, but especially between you two. you asked him if he could hang out during summer, but he has plans to go to japan the rest of summer, so you just plan to hang out during your time in college.

᧔◍᧓

the one thing that you didn't talk about was your rooming situation, so imagine your surprise when you're in the middle of your move-in, and in the hallway, you see ni-ki, walking into the suite right across from yours. "no fucking way, nishimura riki." you yell to him due to his headphones over his head, and he turns over and immediately puts a grin onto his face.

"y/n l/n." he puts his box down and walks over to you, embracing your smaller body, allowing you to practically melt in his scent and hug. once he lets you go, he just gazes at you, still smiling. "how have you been?" he leans against the wall in his cool-guy-esque fashion, but after talking with him the entirety of orientation, you know that he's a lot more of a nerd and introvert than he lets on.

"it's been good! honestly dude, i missed you." you don't miss the fact that his cheeks slightly flush with color, losing the eye contact that was previously held. "how was fucking japan, you looked like you had so much fun on your story and shit!" while asking, you point toward his box, silently questioning if you could come in and help him with his stuff while you updated each other.

while speaking, he brought you to his room that was surprisingly extremely decorated: full of neutrals and darker tones with some pop of color, many boxes and clothes on the floor but already pretty put together.

"wow, you're already way farther in the move-in than i am—i feel like there's just so much fucking stuff," you explain, taking a seat on his bed. you bounce on it a couple of times, mouth wide open by how comfortable it is. "wait, ni-ki, how did you do this?"

"mattress topper." he replies, placing his last box down on the floor and beginning to re-arrange his clothes onto the outside hanger he had bought. "looks like we're gonna be neighbors, y/n," he said in his deep tone, always catching you off-guard, but somehow giving you a tinge of butterflies in your stomach.

"yeah!" you chirp, excited to explore the newfound friendship with ni-ki.

᧔◍᧓

after the first month of university, many people in both of your guys' social circles had created a conceived notion around ni-ki: that he was a nonchalant, cool guy.

you knew this wasn't him at all though.

but you understood why people had thought that of the guy. for one, he's 6 foot something (he doesn't tell you his exact height just to tease the fact that he's much taller than you). next, he dresses stylistically as if every day is his last waking day. lastly, he loves to observe, and not talk much, but every time he did, he always had something witty or something flirtatious to say.

that is until people saw how he was whenever he was with you.

the cool guy persona had completely shifted into something more friendly, more recognizable as a regular person. ni-ki explained his day rapid-fire, telling you basically everything that happened, showed you a specific dance that he and his members had learned, or maybe gave you a sneak peek of what he was gonna wear to some fashion show. he also would tell you about his interests, the things he did on the side, even the people he met. when his friends saw how different he acted around you, they confronted him first, then confronted you after.

"what did ni-ki say?" you ask, wondering why he acts so different around yourself than other people.

"he just said that's how your dynamic was." heeseung had shrugged. "even though we've been members together for like 5 years now, i've never seen ni-ki open up this much to someone. it's like you guys are like... dating or something."

the sentiment gets a cough out of you, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. "w-what?! of course not, we're just friends!" you deny frantically, waving your hands in front of him. "me and ni-ki are just friends."

just then, an arm wraps around your waist, a voice entering the conversation, "who's just friends?" ni-ki questions, smiling at you and heeseung.

of course, heeseung just looks at you, looks at the arm around your waist, then at ni-ki, and back to you. he raises his eyebrows and puckers his lips before walking away. ni-ki turns to you in confusion. "what's that all about?"

᧔◍᧓

as time went on, you and ni-ki had become exceptionally comfortable with one another, becoming each other's ride or dies. unfortunately for you though, it meant he had become increasingly flirtatious with you. you knew he was straight, he had explained his previous crushes to you and what he was looking for in a girl, but you on the other hand had fallen susceptible to his advances, convincing yourself that this is just what friends do.

on his birthday, he had brought you to smoke at the "top of the world," so he called it, which was literally just a trail that led you to the top of a scenic cliff. romantic, you thought, but you knew it was just out of you two becoming best friends.

"y/n-ie," he starts, the nickname sticking after calling you that one drunken night during halloween. "what do you think about teddy bears?"

you passed the joint back to him after taking a hit. "teddy bears? ni-ki, what the fuck are you on about??" the words come out a little too harsh for your liking, so you quickly follow-up, "sorry, i didn't mean it like that."

ni-ki gets up and turns to you. "that was kind of mean," he pouts, putting out his joint before putting back into the metallic holder he had thrifted. the taller had shifted slightly closer to you, wanting to lean his head on your shoulder. it was a little awkward due to the height difference, but the guy made it work, and it made you begin to sweat on your palms.

"sorry, ni-ki." even through the nervousness, you had half a mind to pretend like nothing's wrong, so you lean your head on top of his just barely. in case he questions it, then you could always play the ambiguity card: 'i didn't do anything, it was all you.'

"it's okay baby." he also started calling you that after thanksgiving, when he heard sunoo calling you it. he crossed his arms and wouldn't talk to you for the rest of the day until you came over to his room and asked you why sunoo called you baby and he couldn't, so after that it was a deal that he was allowed to.

you checked the time, which just hit 12 am. "oh, happy birthday ni-ki." you tell him, reaching from your tote bag for a smaller, paper bag within. you hand it to the guy, looking into his eyes for validation. "for you, it's not a bomb, i swear!"

he takes it from you and opens it, revealing two keychains that matched, alongside bracelets from his favorite brand. "y/n..." he trails off, not knowing what to say to you.

"i know, i know, the bracelets are expensive. but ni-ki, you're my best friend. i would do anything for you." you tell him, not wanting him to freak out.

the bracelets had been on his mind since the summer, you remembered from one of the random conversations that you had during orientation, and even though it was a long time ago, you knew he had been wanting them for months, but couldn't allocate the right funds to get it, especially because he was building his closet at the time.

"y/n... i... thank you." he finally stammers out, looking back at your eyes. even in the pale moonlight, you could discern the water in his eyes, but you knew that he hated when he cried, so you didn't say anything of it. "you remembered, huh?"

"uhh, duhh! of course i did," you joke, attempting to lighten the mood. you place your hand onto his shoulder to give him some comfort, but he takes that arm and uses it as leverage to push you onto your back, crawling on top of you. "w-woah, ni-ki?!" you yelp in surprise, not comprehending what just happened.

he just grins, placing his large hand on your face, rubbing your cheek softly. "y/n..."

little did he know though, this was your final straw. you couldn't take it anymore, the incessant flirting, the changes in his behavior around you, hell, even the constant sleepovers that he asked you all the time. so you did the only thing you could think of: run.

᧔◍᧓

of course it didn't really work though.

he was miles more athletic than you were, so he caught up to you within like 5 seconds which is honestly embarrassing on your behalf but you were too sad and a little turned on to even care.

"ni-ki, let go of me, i can't take this anymore!"

the taller just holds your arm, but the rest of his body was frantic, like he was afraid that if he let go he'd lose you for good. "w-what, y/n, what! you can't take what?!" he yells, not knowing what happened.

you twist your head around, looking at him like he grew a second head. "what do you mean, this! i can't take it, calling me nicknames and pet names, flirting with me constantly, sleeping over, acting different around me than your friends. friends don't do this, so you need to st-" and with that explanation, he gently grabs your head, leans down, flutters his eyes shut, and places his lips onto yours.

the scent you know and learned to love floods your senses, and with that brief moment of confusion, he grabs your waist and pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss. and considering this is all you've wanted for the past months, you allow him to take your lips, kissing him back with the same softness.

after moments pass you by, eventually he lets go of you, wanting to look at your reaction. "y/n, i really like you. i kinda... always have. even since we were in middle school." your mouth opens to say something, but you let him speak. "you were always so... cool. and i just... i wanted to be something to impress you... if i'm being honest, i knew you were going here, to this college, sun told me, so i wanted a chance, a possibility, anything to impress you."

he lets go of you, reaches into his pocket to fish out the matching bracelets. "these are beautiful y/n. but, it would be more beautiful if i could put this on you, use this as a courting gift even, and show you that i really do like you, and i want to be yours."

he unclasps the bracelet, handing out in front of him. "will you let me?" you reach your arm out, allowing him to put it on you.

"yes, nishimura riki."

᧔◍᧓

with that, nothing really changed. except for the fact that you and ni-ki are now dating, of course.

people around you realized that the cool nonchalant guy was ni-ki from the dance group enhypen, giving him massive amounts of popularity quickly (you didn't even know popularity in college existed...)

however, it also came to light the fact that you were dating ni-ki, and you slowly began to be known as y/n: the ni-ki tamer, which was crazy in your opinion, but ni-ki loved the title, so you let it slide.

other than that, you started to become integrated with the rest of enhypen, the rest of the members seeing how ni-ki changes when he's with you, but they realized it was for the better as you all hung out, as they saw a side of him that didn't even know existed.

you loved enhypen, they took you in as their own and integrated you into their friend group, even giving you free dance lessons just so you could also join in some of their choreos.

"guys," you pant, exhausted from the lesson ni-ki was giving you. "why did you not tell me that ni-ki is considered the best dancer in this fucking group? and why did you let me take lessons from him?" you complain to the rest of enhypen, who are watching from the sides.

"you have to suffer like we have," jake shouts while jungwon cheers for you.

sunoo and jay also just laugh, the former explaining, "i swear, before you, ni-ki was a fucking nightmare if we didn't get the choreo correct."

"alright, enough talking, more dancing, y/n, one more time."

you love ni-ki. but damn sometimes you regret falling for him.

...

nah, not really though.

[tetragonia]

A Wave of Feelings

Rafe Cameron x F!Pogue!Reader

Blurb: Rafe and (Y/N) got into an argument for God knows how many times, about literally anything when they breath the same air, ranging from a small accident to a heated one about their cultural beliefs. But something in the air was different this time. Or was it only in the air? Not something in their heart and mind when the two of you finally realize something big that could change your lives?

Note: I have always wanted to write an angst especially for this character and it has occurred to me one day that arguing/miscommunication plot is kind of my fave trope so here we are lol.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, argument, bad writing lol English isn't my first language. also, soft!Rafe in the end!

Words: 1490

The sun hung low over the Outer Banks as Rafe Cameron and you found yourself embroiled in yet another heated argument. This was clearly not the first time you both got into an argument. Some of them were heavy like that one time when your best friend asked you to go to the party just to talk to Rafe (which she did) but then he dumped her after the party and she cried for weeks on your shoulder, or some Kook-owned properties that limited your access, or some insulting banter between Rafe and your friends (that got you realized how much he hated JJ).

But most of the time it was just about silly things: when he knocked up your beer accidentally, when you sailed in front of him and accidentally splashed some water (it didn't even make his already oily hair wet), or when you were napping in a near beach and he claimed that it was his territory (he was in the Cut area, for God's sake!). You two always found a way to argue.

This time, your voices clashed like crashing waves, echoing off the walls of the old shipwreck where you had sought refuge.

"You're impossible, Rafe! Always acting like you own this place, roaming around thinking that you're so much better than us Pogues," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. Pogues always owned this place, not some rich snobby kids like him, you thought.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his temper flaring and pride wounded. He hissed, "Maybe if you Pogues have some ambitions, you wouldn't be stuck in the same place your whole life!"

Oh, this was definitely one of those heavy arguments.

Your fists clenched at your sides as took a step forward. Your voice trembling with emotion. "You have no idea what it's like to struggle, Rafe. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

For a moment, you needed to convince yourself that you saw Rafe's gaze softened. You wanted to believe that a flicker of remorse crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a defiant glare. "At least I don't have to scrape by just to survive. Maybe if you Pogues worked harder, you'd actually amount to something."

His words struck deep, a painful reminder of the challenges you and your community faced every day. You recoiled as if struck by a lightning, your eyes stinging with unshed tears and your face was red, "You don't know anything about me, Rafe. You don't know what I've been through."

Your argument drew the attention of Sarah who was nearby with John. She was one of your best friends and you felt nothing but pity every time you realized that she shared the same blood with Rafe. With a furrowed brow, she stepped between you two, her hands raised in a gesture of peace trying to calm you down.

"Hey, what's going on here? Can't you two go five minutes without arguing?" Sarah pleaded, her voice filled with concern and annoyance. She must be tired with all these arguments, you thought. But those were all about Rafe's incapability to control his temper! And that might or might not be your issue as well...

Rafe shot you a scorching glare before turning his attention to Sarah. "Stay out of this, Sarah. This doesn't concern you."

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you stepped forward beside Sarah. "You're the one who concerns everyone with your existence!"

"What did you say to her, Rafe?!" Sarah looked at you with a concern. You were one of her strongest friends and she rarely saw you tremble like this. "Come on, talk it out like an adult, will ya!"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "Talk? What's there to talk about? I said, stay out of this, Sarah."

His gaze turned to you, "You think you know everything, (Y/N). Being the weaker one of the community, blaming us for having some money. If you said that I don't know anything about you, then you also don't know anything about me!"

His words cut like a blade across your pain. Your expression softened, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes and you were not sure whether Rafe realize that or not. "Let's just cut it out. You would never understand what I've been through. What we have been through. Let's go, Sarah. Let's get out of here."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing concern, her heart aching for her brother and her best friend. She knew there was something deeper at play here, something that neither of them wanted to admit.

"Come on, you two. Let's take a step back and calm down, especially you, Rafe," Sarah suggested, her voice gentle yet firm. She glared at his brother. His face was as red as you, his forehead frowned deep.

You and Rafe exchanged a wary glance before reluctantly exhaled a deep breath. As much as you hate him, as much as you didn't want to admit, you really want him to apologize. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a palpable sense of unease.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the right words. "Look, I know things have been tense lately, but I really can't bear another sight of you guys bicker over things. If you still want to do that, please not where I can see you. I need you two to be in your best behavior when I'm around. Especially with you, Rafe. I have enough of you already."

Rafe's gaze softened as he looked at his sister, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "You're right, Sarah. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sarah still held her concern, but she relieved to see them finally finding common ground. "It's okay. Now I'll leave it up to you. I can't mom you around like this, geez."

She walked away from you both. She lived long enough with both you and Rafe and there was no way she did not realized that beneath the surface, there was a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born from unspoken feelings and unacknowledged desires.

You stood still, refused to meet his gaze. The wind blew your hair as the sun began to set. You started to feel the chill and instinctively hug your own body, fixing your shirt together. You accidently drew a sharp breath when a cold wind sent chills down your spine. You sniffed and looked over the horizon. Refusing to take even the tiniest glance at him, you kept looking at the sea while stroking your upper arm.

Despite the heat of your argument, Rafe couldn't ignore the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, making you appeared small and vulnerable against the vast expanse of the beach. His heart ached at this view.

You didn't see that he wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around you and shield her from the biting wind; his hesitation to offer you warmth and comfort in the midst of your argument.

But his pride held him back, a barrier he had built long ago to protect himself from vulnerability and pain. Yet now, standing on the windswept beach with you before him, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was out of line."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Rafe's apology, your anger momentarily forgotten as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. You had expected him to be stubborn, to be the usual Rafe: to dig in his heels and refuse to back down. But instead, here he was, standing before you with such humility you'd never seen before.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the shore. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Thank you."

And with that, Rafe's resolve crumbled completely. Ignoring the voice of doubt in his mind, he opened his arms and pulled you into a tight embrace, provided you with the warmth of his body against yours. He could feel the softness of your hair against his cheek and he kissed your head softly it almost gave you a heart attack.

So you were not hallucinating all this time. The glances, the gestures, the underlying concern for her.... He felt the same way, too.

In that moment, with the cold wind whipping around them, you knew that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for you. And as you stood together on the windswept beach, you both vowed to never let your pride stand in the way of your connection again.

[realwildernessbaby]

... can i request some nsfw for melissa hat. with shauna or reader i don't even care just use this as your free pass to write literally anything with melissa i can not think of anything specific. thank you

──¸.☆ PERV

a/n: not proofread so...

warnings: swearing, masturbation smut, oral (m!receiving), fingering m!receiving)

pairings: melissa hat x reader

It started with little things. she noticed the way your hands gripped the fresh red meat as you cut it. or the way you kneeled down to start a fire, your fingers wrapped around the sticks in a practiced manor as you struck them together. she saw it all. that quiet blonde girl who seemed as if she had nothing but innocent thoughts behind her glassy cerulean eyes was actually struggling to breathe every single time you walked by.

it became obvious to her few close wilderness friends. immediately after every small interaction the two of you had, she was racing back to her hut, a wave of fiery heat washed over her face. another one of those interactions occurred today.

“oh my god”

gen snickered as she leaned into akilah’s side, watching melissa scurry away to the comfort of her wood hut.

“jeez… is she okay?”

akilah whispers, sounding genuinely concerned to which gen laughs and shakes her head. gen’s demeanor is completely opposite to melissa’s, who at this point in time is pacing back and forth in her hut, tugging at the loose stitches on the hem of her muscle tank. it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the heat building between her thighs, which you are completely oblivious to as you carry out your daily chores.

after a long internal battle, melissa closes the drapes to her hut door, and sits awkwardly on her makeshift bed. she shoves her hands quickly down her boyshorts, applying pressure to her clit over the fabric of her panties the way she believes you would. ‘i’m not weird, i’m not weird, i’m not weird’ she repeats to herself like a motto as she imagines your fingers between her thighs.

once you finish up your daily chores you skip over to nat.

“anything else?”

nat looks up from her lap, twiddling her thumbs. she awkwardly meets your gaze, her voice coming about a bit raspy. you assume it’s from stress.

“yeah, um… would you mind checking on melissa? gen said something about her not feeling well?”

she says, in a skeptical tone.

“it’s getting dark, almost time for dinner and uh… she needs to set the table.”

she continues, to which you nod and agree. the trip to melissa and gen’s shared hut is a familiar one. you typically wake melissa up to start chores for the day as she sleeps in later than anyone else. she’s probably staying up late, but why?... whatever. you hear the sound of fabric rustling as you step up to the hut, awkwardly knocking on the wood. a surprised gasp is faintly heard from the inside of her hut.

“hey… you feelin’ okay? nat wanted me to check on you, so…”

you yell awkwardly through the barrier between the two of you. you infer that melissa quickly gets up due to the racket you hear, a strange thing for someone who’s “sick” to do.

“um. i’m fine.”

melissa blurts out quickly. that doesn’t sound like the truth.

“are you sure? i’m coming in.”

you push the drapes to the side and step into her hut, watching as melissa quickly sits up against the wall, almost instinctively shoving her right hand into her pocket. she appears a bit messy. her wavy blonde hair is disheveled, her shirt slightly riding up to reveal her toned abdomen which your eyes trail over for a little too long. you inadvertently take your lower lip between your teeth at the sight. it’s subtle, but just obvious enough for melissa to notice and quickly divert her gaze, her heart thrumming in her chest.

in this moment, it became obvious to you what you did to her. the way she pushed her legs together, subconsciously held her breath, and fidgeted with her hands. she was whipped for you. so, what do you do? oh, you’re gonna play along.

“you don’t seem too good. here… lemme check if you have a fever.”

melissa visibly tensed up at this idea, her eyes wide and glued to your body as you lowered yourself to your knees and crawled over to her. you sat with your legs folded beneath you next to her, leaning over her body and placing the back of your hand on her forehead. she shivered under your touch, seemingly unused to this kind of contact.

“mm… you’re hot.”

a complete lie. you were unable to feel a fever. but the words got such a sweet reaction out of her, it made a chuckle slip past your lips. that got to her. 

“wow… your face is so red, too. you must be really sick, huh?”

a nervous whine escaped melissa. you lean in closer.

“what are you?...”

she breathed out, her voice quivering.

“taking care of you.”

you whisper through a smirk, before smashing your lips against hers. melissa freezes like a deer in headlights, before easing into the sensation as you add movement. your lips move against each others in a natural rhythm as if it wasn’t the first time. you position yourself over her in a quick movement, your hips straddling hers, and your arms caging her under your body. she was completely trapped, yet relishing in the sensation of it. you add your tongue into the mix, flicking it out and tracing along her bottom lip, as if begging for an entrance, to which she eagerly gives you. the second melissa parts her lips, a moan leaves your throat and enters hers. in return, she gives you her tongue, which you greedily take. it’s slick with spit as it dances with yours, lewd wet noises filling the air.

you break apart for a second to look down at her, the two of you panting together.

“fuck…”

the curse leaves her mouth, almost whispered. you move your hands up under her shirt, tantalizingly trailing your short nails up the bare skin of her stomach. this sends an intense shiver down her spine like a lightning bolt, so strong you can feel the girl shake beneath you.

you push the shirt up over her head in a swift motion, leaving her in her sports bra and shorts. your lips press into her neck, leaving subtle nibbles every few kisses. 

“i know how you feel about me… what you’ve been doing.”

melissa’s breath hitches in her throat at your claims, the sudden interrogation making her nervous, yet intrigued.

“how do you do it? desperately rub yourself in circles? push your fingers into you imagining they’re mine?… maybe you’ve been stealing my clothes to grind onto.”

melissa whines nervously, stammering.

“i…”

she trails off, to which you chuckle, your sloppy open mouthed kisses moving from her neck to her chest.

“all of the above, perhaps?”

and without a warning, you feel up her chest, eliciting a moan from the nervous blonde. you rule out the possibility taking your time, quickly pulling her sports bra up over her head and discarding it somewhere in the hut.

“such a pretty girl…”

she whined at your comment as you smirk down at her body, taking in her features. her soft breasts, hardened nipples, nervous goosebumps visible all over her glistening pale skin. you ate up every inch of her body with your eyes. 

“don’t say that…”

she breathed out, her voice taking on a sheepish tone.

“why not? is it making you too wet?”

you whisper teasingly, trailing your right hand down and quickly dipping it below the waistband of her shorts. your fingers drag through her folds over her underwear, feeling the heat through the fabric.

“mhm. i think it is.”

you pull your fingers away, melissa groaning at the absence of your touch and bucking her hips up into the heel of your palm. you move yourself up off of her, crawling down between her legs. melissa looks down at you with an anxious (or maybe eager???) look in her eyes. the index finger of each of your hands hooked around her waistband, pulling her gray boyshorts down to reveal an unexpected pair of black panties with a little bow.

“these are cute.”

you tease, smirking down at them. you desperately want to get them off though, quickly pulling the black lace down her legs. once those god forsaken fabric barriers are finally off her, you spread her soft legs open, hands wrapping around her thighs from underneath to keep them in place.

you’re met with her pretty pink core directly in front of your face. your mouth waters at the sight of her stiffened clit, the pink flesh glistening with arousal.

“such a pretty pussy.”

you moan out, the vibrations sending shock waves up her body. 

“fuck- please… please.”

melissa whines out, seemingly mindlessly begging for pleasure. in response, you lean in and attach your lips to her throbbing clit, a lengthy moan clawing it’s way out of her throat. after a few flicks of your tongue, you start sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. you aren’t even aware when the blonde throws her head back, leaning onto her elbows for support from the overwhelming pleasure.

she already feels on the edge. as you suck, you flick your tongue out, teasing her quivering entrance. she feels too empty, and you know it. 

“please… need you-“

that’s all the convincing you need to slowly trail your fingers toward her hole, tracing around the opening. a string of whispered curses and quick moans leave melissa’s mouth as she eagerly waits for your next move.

you begin to push your index finger into her entrance at an agonizingly slow pace, waiting for her reactions to make sure she feels good. melissa groans as she adjusts to the difficult squeeze, her tight walls clenching onto your single finger. you begin to suck on her clit again as you push your middle finger into her, slowly curling them together towards her sweet spot.

“fuck~ oh god…”

melissa moans out, not even trying to quiet her moans from the outside world, too wrapped up in the pleasure. you find the perfect rhythm, curling your fingers as you suck on her clit, slowly thrusting in and out of her. a very particular thrust makes her cry out, your fingers lingering on the sponge like flesh within her.

“are you close, baby? you getting close for me?”

at the sound of your voice, her walls begin fluttering around your fingers. you suck extra hard on her bud, curling your fingers at a practiced rhythm as she climaxes with a loud cry.

you don’t pull out, though… you fuck her through it, making her legs shake intensely and wrap around your head. she’s trying to get away from your touch, yet push herself into it at the same time. the feeling of overstimulation runs through her entire body, her hole continuing to pulse even after the extended orgasm. melissa’s strangled moans turn into shaky cries of pleasure, and finally, you stop.

a sigh of relief leaves melissa’s lips, her tired eyelids opening to look down at you. she relishes in the sight of your messy appearance, glistening arousal dripping down your chin. melissa laughs.

“you fucking pervert.”

[itsjustrosee]

hiii love, not sure if you’re taking requests for Minho (maze runner) but if you are, could you write one where shy fem reader gets caught in a situation where her shirt accidentally rips up in front of everyone in the glade (you can choose the interesting situation of how that occurs lol) and she is bare, then feels vulnerable cause the gladers start whistling and stuff but Minho immediately takes his shirt off and covers her to protect her.

She feels safe with him and he is protective of her even though they haven’t talk much as she hardly sees him cause he’s a runner- mutual pining ig 🥰. And maybe it could end in some spice hehehe

stop it this is literally such a cute prompt I squealed when I read this. And spice is my specialty so I'm glad you asked me to include that😜. I hope I've done your idea justice!! And yes I am always taking requests and looking for new things to write so honestly ask away!!

PROTECTIVE (Minho x fem!reader (one-shot))

Context: Pre Thomas, look for summary above ^

Warnings: Cursing and spice

Word count: 2.8k (sorry this one was a bit short)

! I proof read but there might still be spelling mistakes !

Being the only girl in the glade was definitely a struggle at times. Obviously Alby had set up rules and regulations for all of the other gladers to follow to try and make you feel as comfortable and welcomed in the glade as possible, but there was only so much he could do. Though no one had tried anything physical with you, you always found a way to overhear hushed conversations regarding you and your body.

However, during your time in the glade you were able to become close with Chuck, Newt, and a few other boys. You could always find yourself laughing and hanging out with them the way they did with everyone else. They never treated you differently just because you were a girl, which is what you had grown to greatly appreciate.

You had been in the glade for a little while. In fact, today had been the 4th month since your arrival, and you knew this because a new greenie ascended from the box this morning.

His reaction getting out of the box was to be expected. He gave the normal theatrics, looking like he was about to have a panic attack, asking question after question, and then actually having a panic attack. But unfortunately he was harder to calm down then most. And being keeper of the medjacks, and baring the title of, 'the caring one' around the glade, it was up to you to calm him down. You didn't mind it though, he was a really sweet kid and he didn't even look to be much older then Chuck.

"I feel bad for the poor greenie." Newt sighed before continuing. "I mean, I feel bad for everyone who has to come down here and deal with the whole 'trapped in a maze' bit, but he's just really young." Newt explained while he plucked a blade of grass from the ground and held it in his hand. You and Newt always tended to come and hang out by the garden whenever neither of you were out working. And because you were finally able to get the new guy to calm down, he was taking a nap on one of the beds in the medhut, and since the medhut had been particularly slow otherwise, you and Newt were able to talk a bit before dinner and the bonfire.

"Yeah, I get what you're saying." You say with an exhale. "It's still difficult to come to terms with this whole thing, even after being here for a few months." Newt gave you a silent nod after you said that and neither of you said anything afterwards.

Newt was always good company. Neither of you had to talk and fill the air with conversation because being silent around each other was almost comforting in a way.

The silence between the both of you had been broken though, when you both saw Minho and the rest of the runners run out of the maze and begin jogging towards you both, probably heading to the maze room. The maze doors began to close, incasing you in glade for yet another night.

As Minho passed you and Newt, he greeted both of you with a wave and continued to jog past you.

Though you have been in the glade for a bit, you and Minho had never really spoken to each other before. Your schedules definitely didn't allow for you guys to talk to each other, considering he was always in the maze and you were always in the medhut. However, there was something about him that totally drew you in, you just didn't know what it was.

"Someone has a crush, huh?" Newt said with a smirk as he turned his head to look at yours. Immediately you turned your attention back to Newt.

Shit you were totally staring at Minho just then.

"A crush? Your talking like a child right now Newt." You say with a bit of an attitude.

"Well it's not like you're denying it." Newt says with a chuckle as he begins to stand up from his sitting position on the ground.

"Oh slim it." You say while rolling your eyes and taking Newts hand as he helped you up so you can both start heading to dinner.

Both you and Newt woke up the greenie and took him to dinner, and the evening continued like any other. Everyone was welcoming of him and it was good to see him laughing and actually talking to people.

Eventually, Gally and a couple others began to set up for the bonfire, so you took the quick opportunity to freshen up in your hut. It was honestly really nice of Alby to force Gally and the other builders to make you one just so you felt like you had enough privacy.

You changed into a pair of shorts and changed out of your tank top. You put on one of your favorite/ only shirts, which was the perfect balance of baggy yet tight on you. It was going to get colder throughout the night so you wanted to have a bit more clothing on, and you also couldn't stand the idea of being in your tank top for another second. Definitely not after sweating your ass off in it the entire day.

You joined up with everyone else and soon the festivities began. Everyone, including yourself, was drinking Gally's very shity brew and of course the greenie almost puked after one sip. Needless to say, the drink was a bit of an acquired taste, but he would get used to it. Gally was playing that stupid wrestling game with the rest of the gladers and everything was going as per usual.

You had found yourself a seat on a bench next to Newt, and you allowed your back to rest on the bench, letting out a sigh as you began to relax. You sat closer to everyone else than where you would normally sit, because you were still trying to keep your eye on the greenie. Minho, Chuck, and a group of about 10 others were sat down with you on surrounding benches. Voices and jokes filled the air and your stomach began to hurt from laughing so much.

It was times like these that mattered most when you were in the glade. It reminded you that though you were all trapped here, at least you were making the best of it. Without this type of structure, you'd bet that even Alby would've gone mad by now.

"Hey I'm going to get another drink, do you mind coming with?" Newt asked me, already up out of his seat and in front of me.

"Yeah sure, I could use another glass anyways." You explained while taking his hand.

All of this would've been fine if your shirt hadn't snagged on a loose nail from the bench.

As newt pulled you up from your seat neither of you had realized what had happened until way too late, the damage was already done by that point. Your shirt wasn't made out of the best material, so the entire thing had completely ripped off of you.

So there you were. Stood in front of an enormous group of boys wearing nothing but your bra, which only provided the bare minimum amount of coverage.

Apparently the rip from your shirt was loud enough to earn the attention of everyone, even Gally's group who was stood further away from you. It took you, along with everyone else, a moment to fully comprehend the situation. And in that moment you would've been more then happy if a griever showed up and swallowed you whole. Nothing compared to the amount of embarrassment you were feeling in that moment. Especially not when you began to hear whistles and laughs from some of the boys.

By this point you had both of your hands covering your chest, and your mind was completely blank. What the hell were you even supposed to do in a situation like this? It would take you ages to live this down, and of course something like this had to happen right when you thought everyone was getting over the fact you were a girl.

Newt stood there staring at you along with everyone else in the group of people who were sitting with you. You could see a couple guys in front of you let out laugh a laugh, which only caused your eyes to well up with tears.

You had never cried in the glade. Not once. You couldn't let yourself.

You didn't cry when you arrived from the box, or even when you were ostracized for being the only girl. But still you couldn't help but feel so utterly humiliated.

Even though it had felt like you stood there on display for hours, it had only been at least five seconds since your shirt had ripped off. Before anyone else could turn their heads to look at you, Minho got up suddenly.

He took his shirt off quickly while walking over to you, and you took your arms away from your chest, allowing him to pull his shirt onto you so you were no longer stood half naked in front of anyone. You were shocked by his gesture. Out of all the people in the glade, you had never thought he would be the one to protect you like this, but you were thanking god he did.

As he stood towering over you for a couple more seconds you couldn't help but take in what he looked like shirtless. And jeez, lets just say all this running he does pays off. He looked like he had been carved out of stone by the gods. His abs looked chiseled on, and you were going absolutely feral for it. In the most respectful way possible though of course.

Half of the glade looked just as shocked as you, and the rest looked disappointed. You heard groans and curses from Gally's group, as if they were annoyed with Minho.

"Oh come on Minho, you really had to ruin it for everyone, huh?" Gally said, and it was obvious that he was already through multiple glasses of his moonshine. His snarky comment was warranted by a couple of snickers and laughs from the other boys sitting with him. Minho turned around to face him and at this point they were stood with a bit of distance between each other, but still not much. And it was safe to say that Minho looked like he was about to maul Gally.

"What did you just say?" Minho questioned, his voice dark and menacing as he began taking steps towards Gally.

"Oh what, you going to defend your girlfriend?" Gally contested while slurring and hiccupping between words, getting in Minho's face as he said it.

"She doesn't have to be my girlfriend for me to treat her like a normal shucking person, Gally." Minho said while firmly standing his ground.

It was quiet for a moment before any other response was made. You and the rest of the glade were just staring at them, and honestly you were thankful that the attention was finally off of you.

If it wasn't for Alby pulling the two boys apart, the night would've ended with someone bloody and bruised, and someone, or both of them, ending up in the pit.

Alby pushed Gally away and grabbed onto Minho's shoulder as he led Minho back over to me. "Minho take (Y/N) back to her hut and get her situated. I'll deal with Gally." Alby says, clearly annoyed with what the night had turned into.

You and Minho both silently began walking back to your hut. You wanted to thank him, you needed to thank him, but you just didn't know how you were going to. As he opened the door to your hut and both of you stepped in, he closed the door and you just stood looking at him. You were still flustered from him being, you know, without a shirt, but you had to compose yourself.

"Thank you Minho. For um- you know, giving me your shirt and stuff." You say while looking at the ground, your cheeks red from embarrassment as you painfully recall the whole situation.

"It was no problem really." Minho said as you looked back up at him.

"Yeah it's just- I don't know what I would've done without you-" And although it sounded cliché, you meant it. Your voice began to break after trying to continue, your words getting caught in your throat. Before you could compose yourself enough to say anything else, Minho brought you into his arms gently, and hugged you. His warm embrace made you feel safe and secure, and immediately your worries washed away as you hugged him harder. You buried your head into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped his around yours.

You could've stayed like that for hours, but you forced your head away from his chest and looked up at him, staring deep into his eyes and he did the same. There was a thick tension in the air as you felt the temperature in your hut increase.

Minho tucked a piece of your hair back behind your ear, "I'll always be here to protect you." Minho says while giving you a genuine smile, your stomach doing somersaults as you completely folded under his gaze. As your eyes followed his for a moment longer, you noticed them glance at your lips and before you could even process it, he kissed you.

You stood there shocked and bewildered, this night had been an absolute rollercoaster of fucking emotions and you were not prepared for it once so ever.

After not reciprocating the kiss Minho pulled away, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of you or something- I-" But before he could finish his sentence you kissed him back, your lips merging into his completely, as if you were two magnets that were completely drawn together naturally.

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, and you practically melted into him. You let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth and your lips worked against his in unison. For all you knew, Minho was the first boy you had ever kissed, and you were totally fine with that. You didn't even need to kiss any other boy to know that Minho did it best.

You took one of your hands and kept it on his back, caressing his muscles on his upper back. While your other hand found it's way to his nape and you began to take his hair between your fingers, tugging at them more whenever he kissed you harder.

He kept one of his hands by your waist and the other at your back, trying to bring you as close to him as he possibly could. He held you as if you were the only thing worth holding onto, and he was never willing to let you go.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Minho as he pinned you against one of the walls in your hut next to the door. You were left completely breathless once Minho pulled away, biting at your bottom lip as he then continued to kiss you down your jaw. You could feel him begin to suck at the sensitive part part of skin between your neck and collar bone, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Minho continued to kiss down your collar bone and as low as your shirt's neck line would let him. You could feel his kisses become more sloppy and desperate. It was as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on more of you, and you couldn't wait to give yourself in to him.

You pushed him off and quickly took off your shirt, tossing it to the ground as Minho stared at you. He put his arms around you again and smirked as he began to kiss you, more hungrily this time.

"I'll never let anyone else in the glade see you like this again. I promise." He said between kisses. The sincerity in his voice was prominent.

You could tell that all of what Minho had said was true. If any other boy tried to touch you, or even look at you in the wrong way, he would be there to protect you.

In that moment you had realized that no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho made you feel. He satisfied all of your desires and he fulfilled you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You were everything he wanted, and he was everything you wanted. But more importantly, he made you feel safe, like as long as you were in his arms he would never let anything bad happen to you.

Then suddenly, there was a nock on the door. Then it swung open abruptly.

"Hey um (Y/N), I really wanted to apologize for earlier-" But before Gally could say anything else, he turned his head and saw you and Minho, half naked and pressed against each other.

"Oh shuck- I didn't mean to- I'll leave now." And with that, he was out of the door as quickly as he entered it.

ok guys heres another!! I really hoped that yall liked it. I had quite the fun time writing this and I think it turned out pretty well!

btw I'm going to start working on pt.2 to stranded, and I should have it finished relatively soon, but I've never written smut before so that's going to be quite interesting. But seriously thank you to everyone who wrote nice things under that post you have no idea how much it means to me ❤️❤️

[watermelonlovershigh]

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: when i started this chapter i had intended for it to go in a completely different direction but as i began writing it, i let the words flow and wrote it this way instead. i really hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback and remember to send in things you'd like to see in this series. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of handjobs and blowjobs, slight angst, pillow talk, cunilingus, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - friends to lovers trope - softrry }

word count- 3,459

While making arrangements to introduce your friends to Harry, he seizes the chance to ask about your abrupt departure after your intimate encounter earlier that day. This conversation unexpectedly leads to Harry performing oral sex on you for the first time.

As you make your way around the street corner, you are greeted by your friends, Mave and Charlotte, who are waving you over to the table they had set aside for your brunch. The cafe features a beautiful outdoor space, perfect for the current time of year. Upon joining them, they quickly pick up on your more upbeat attitude. While you typically don't appear gloomy, you have been feeling rather indifferent for the past year. However today, they observe a slight improvement in your mood.

"Hi, Hi." you lean in to kiss each of their cheeks and sit down at the round table.

"We've ordered you a mimosa. Wasn't sure what you wanted to eat so we haven't ordered our food yet though." Charlotte explans.

"Oh, well thank you." you take a sip of your mimosa and moan at how delicious the drink is.

"What's making you so cheerful today? Is it because of Harry?" Mave questions with cheeky smile, aware of your growing connection with your housemate and the recent revelation of your mutual feelings towards one another. Your friends are genuinely happy for you, knowing how long you've been single and how it affected you.

Brushing them off, you answer, "What? A girl can't look happy on a Sunday morning without there being a reason?" But they know you better then that. The aurora you're giving off is one of a girl who's in love. Though they wouldn't tell you that this soon in your relationship with Harry.

"No it's just," Mave starts, "look, we want the details. Did you guys have sex this morning? Because you look like your glowing and it's not from your skincare routine." Her and Charlotte stare you down, waiting for an answer and you know you must give them one. Otherwise they'll never let this conversation rest.

"Alright, alright. We did do some sexual stuff this morning. But not sex. I just kind of gave him a handjob which then turned into a blowjob."

Your two friends are smiling ear to ear at your confession. "And.... what else? Don't tell us he left you high and dry after you literally had his dick in your mouth." Charlotte utters in a hushed yet audible tone, ensuring that you can hear her amidst the bustling traffic and crowd, while hopefully keeping your conversation private from others.

You express with annoyance in your tone, "It wasn't as you think. I woke up to find him cuddling me and noticed he was aroused. Therefore, I chose to assist him. Once he woke up and realized he was hard, he eventually agreed to my help. I began by giving him a handjob under his briefs, but then decided to go further with a blowjob. And he didn't reciprocate because I left quickly after he came. So, I'm unsure whether he would've wanted to do something for me in return."

Mave reaches across the table and playfully swats your arm. "You fuckin' idiot. You should have stayed to see if he would've pleasured you as well. You could've gotten an amazing orgasm out of him."

"Hey," you spit back, "I did have an amazing orgasm this morning. Just... with my vibrator in the shower before I came here." Though you're sure Harry would beat every single one of your toys if you gave him the chance to prove it.

After chatting for a few more minutes you realized just how hungry you were and decided to order your food and another round of mimosas. You catch up on each others lives and make plans for them to come by the house to hang out one night. They have yet to meet Harry and you thought what better way to introduce them than to invite them over for some drinks and maybe a card game. You'll just have to ask him if that would be okay.

-----------------------------

Upon returning home later that evening, you notice Harry seated on the sofa, engrossed in a pile of papers and his laptop resting on his lap. Presumably grading tests, you assume. After placing your bag in the entryway, you make your way over to the couch. Surprisingly, the atmosphere doesn't feel as awkward as you had anticipated, considering the events that unfolded earlier in the day.

"How was your brunch?" Harry questions, shifting to set all of his work onto the coffee table.

"Great. Really fun." you answer before continuing, "So I have a question."

"Hm, so do I actually but go on." Harry replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn't know what your question is but he knows his question is in reference to why you ran off so quickly this morning after you gave him that blowjob. It's been eating at his mind all day and he'd really like some closure so he can relax.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could have a little get-together with my friends, Mave and Charlotte. They're eager to meet you, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to invite them over this upcoming weekend. We can enjoy some drinks and perhaps even play that card game I purchased some time ago but haven't had the chance to play yet."

Harry nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds great. How about this Friday night? I can stop by the shops on my way home from work and grab some alcohol. Just let me know what kind they prefer." He is genuinely excited to finally meet your friends. Since becoming your housemate, you've kept your personal life mostly private from him. As a result, he hasn't had the chance to meet any of your family members and has only heard stories about your friends.

"Fantastic," you declare, jumping up from the couch excitedly. "I'll call them right away and let them know. They'll be so happy." Just as Harry was about to remind you that he had a question as well, you've already disappeared from his line of sight. Your sudden departures today seem to be a trend. He reckons he'll have to wait a bit longer to find out the reasoning behind your quick exit this morning.

-----------------------------

At approximately ten o'clock at night, you and Harry are lying in your bed, watching reruns of Friends while trying to stay awake. The room is dark besides the glare of the tv and his cat Pixie is nestled in the middle of the bed, sleeping soundly. Although she hasn't always been allowed in your room, ever since Harry started visiting so frequently, you have embraced her presence as well.

Right as your eyes began to shut, you remember how Harry had a question for you earlier but never got to ask it. You didn't mean to run off like you did. You just got excited to call your friends and let them know they're welcomed to come by the house this Friday for the small gathering. Which in turn made you totally forget he had a question in the first place.

"Harry," you say aloud. The call of his name startles him. He'd just dozed off to sleep and your voice pulled him away from the unconsciousness he was about to enter.

"Mhm, what?" he grumbles, eyes half open as he tries to stay awake in order to hear you speak.

"What's your question? You said earlier you had a question but you never got to ask me it."

Harry found himself more awake as he thought about how to bring up his question. To be honest, he was feeling a bit nervous to ask. Even though this question had been on his mind all day, he hesitated to ask, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or create any distance between you. "Um, was just gonna ask why you left so suddenly this mornin'. You know, after you gave me that blowjob? It seemed like you were ashamed of your actions or somethin'. I was plannin' to return the favor, but you left before I had the opportunity to ask."

With heart shaped eyes, you coo softly, "You were?"

"Well yeah. It's only right that I returned the favor you did for me. I'm not a douche bag like some men can be."

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. But um, I don't know. Guess I remembered how I'd just woke up and maybe didn't smell the best down there or that I may have tasted bad from the hours of sleep I was in prior. Just didn't want to disgust you in any way."

With a gentle tone, Harry expressed, "Y/n, your scent or taste wouldn't have been an issue for me. Even if it was there, I wouldn't have mind. Because it's you, and I genuinely care about you. I would have found pleasure in it regardless. If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about the natural smell of your vagina, they are truly right dicks"

Breathing deeply, you sadly admit, "Yeah, I've had some men attempt to go down on me first thing in the morning but complained about the way I smelt or tasted and so, I just didn't want you to do the same as them."

Sliding impossibly close to you, Harry responds back, "Well I'm not those other men. I respect women more than that and I may just have a thing for oral sex. Givin' and receivin'. Plus, it feels even better when you really know and trust the person."

You giggle shyly and except his closeness, the two of you laying on your sides facing each other. "Dick or pussy though?"

"What?" Harry asks with a sleepy smile, unsure of what you're questioning.

"You said you had a thing for oral sex. So do you prefer sucking dick or eating pussy?"

"Mhm, depends on who the person is and my connection to them. Both are great but it also depends on what mood I'm in to give you a solid answer." It's no secret Harry likes men as well. When you first moved in with him he had a short fling with a guy and you assumed he was gay for like the first month. But then when you heard a girl moaning through his bedroom walls, you realized that wasn't the case. The next day you questioned him and he confidently came out as bisexual to you.

Deciding to continue these questions just to see where it could lead, you keep going, "And, what mood are you in right now?"

Harry suddenly became aware of the dense atmosphere, yet he responded truthfully. "Considerin' that I'm currently in your bed, nearly cuddling you, and you happen to possess a vagina, I would say 'pussy.' However, if I were to discover that you possessed a penis, the answer would be 'cock.'"

He moves one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. It's so incredibly close to his that he can just about taste the mint of your toothpaste. "Good thing I have one of those two options then and I'm not some alien with no genitals at all."

What Harry wants to say is that he'd love you just the same, even if you were a genitalless alien, but he can't. Not yet anyways. So he responds, "Wouldn't change how I feel about you." With the close proximity, you get the sudden urge to surge forward and clash your lips with his. As if he felt this coming, Harry didn't react surprised at all and accepts the kiss. You both realized this is the first time you've kissed each other. You've shared your feelings, your beds, and you've gave him a blowjob. Yet this makes your first time kissing.

Harry intensifies the kiss by gently prodding his tongue against your lips, and you grant him permission to enter. The kiss is wet, rushed, and somewhat messy, yet incredibly enjoyable. After a minute of exchanging saliva, you pull back to take a deep breath and confidently state, "Prove it then. Prove you're in the mood for some pussy."

With surprise written on his face, Harry leans back a tiny bit to make sure he's reading you correctly. "You sure? I don't have to if......" He'd be more than happy to eat you out right here, right now, but he doesn't want you to ask because you feel obligated to agree or because you're in the heat of the moment.

Responding eagerly, you assert, "Yes, I'm sure. But please be quick before I change my mind." The mention of urgency and the potential for a change of mind prompts Harry to swiftly toss the covers back and carefully positions himself between your legs. He gently lifts Pixie from the bed and places her on the floor where she discovers her cat bed near the window sill and resumes her peaceful sleep.

At this very moment, Harry finds himself surprisingly nervous as he positions himself between your legs. Although he has longed to perform oral sex on you, both this morning and in his countless fantasies, the actual prospect of doing so fills him with apprehension that he may not satisfy you adequately. Additionally, he frets over the possibility of being unable to bring you to orgasm.

Curiosity arose within you as to why Harry was taking such a long time, prompting you to prop yourself up on your elbows. From this viewpoint, you observed him fixating on your bottom half, which was concealed by some skimpy shorts you typically sleep in. However, as soon as he notices your gaze upon him, he swiftly reaches up and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. To his astonishment, you're not wearing any panties which causing Harry to let out a moan upon catching sight of your naked pussy.

Despite the room being enveloped in a soft glow from the television, it remained dimly lit and quiet. Harry couldn't obtain a clear image of your exposed cunt but he could perceive enough to develop a strong liking to it already. However, this attraction isn't solely based on the physical appearance of your vagina, but rather because it's a part of you.

Harry looks up once more to ensure your approval for his actions. With a nod of reassurance from you, he eagerly begins. His mouth envelops your entire pussy, as his tongue moves from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. The flavor of you on his tongue almost brings him to climax instantly, hands free. This is undoubtedly the best cunt he's ever had. Your skin is incredibly soft and inviting, with only a few short hairs littered around your bikini area from the shave you did two days ago.

As your elbows grow weaker, you find yourself sinking into the comfortable bed below. Harry's tongue skillfully laps up your arousal before focusing on your clit and experimenting with various flicking patterns. Each time his tongue glides over the sensitive nerves, your entire body responds with a powerful jolt of electricity. It's no secret that your clit is extremely sensitive when receiving attention from the right person.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Feels so good." you moan aloud, reaching down to grab onto his curly locks.

You fear he'll tell you not to touch him, but as he briefly moves his mouth away, he commands, "Tug my hair, baby. It feels amazing." Could it be that he just referred to you as 'baby' for the first time? You believe so, and it heightens your arousal even further.

Listening to Harry's wishes, you pull his hair tightly in your fists, causing his face to be nestled against your pussy impossibly closer than before. You begin to move your hips, creating a subtle rocking motion. Although he may feel a slight burning sensation on his scalp due to the intensity of your grip, as he mentioned, he loves the sensation it gives.

A minute more goes by of Harry munching down on your wet pussy when you feel your orgasm nearly bubble over. "I... I'm..." you try to warn but can't even get the words out from how much pleasure you're in. Harry doesn't say a word back, just goes in even harder, more determined to bring you over the edge.

You finally achieve orgasm when he seals his lips around your clit, applying firm and forceful sucks. Your clitoris pulsates within his mouth, causing you to release an animalistic scream as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Your entire body trembles, compelling Harry to firmly hold your hips to keep you in place. He continues sucking on your clit until your orgasm begins to fade and overstimulation sets in.

The hands that once laced in his hair start trying to push his head away. "Har.... Oh God!" you gasp when he gives your tiny nerve a few more kitten licks to make sure he's pulled every ounce of pleasure from you that he can. You lie there trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Harry sits up on his knees, breathing heavy with a glossy mouth.

Eager to know, though the answer should be evident with how you look right now, Harry asks, "So.... was I any good? Did that prove what mood I was in to you?"

You glance forward to see a devilish smile plastered on Harry's face and just know he's proud of himself. Which, he should. You don't think you've ever came so hard in your entire life. "Yes," you heave, "Oh God, yes. I'm...., that was, God. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Yeah? You just tellin' me that to boost my ego or are you tellin' the truth?"

"Harry, I quit literally can't feel my bones right now. They're like jello. No man nor any one of my strongest vibrators have made me come that hard. No wonder the ladies liked you."

With the awareness that it's already very late and he has work the next morning, Harry decides to rise from the bed and make his way to the bathroom in the hallway to fetch a damp cloth. Your exhaustion prevents you from mustering the energy to question his actions. When he returns, you immediately recognize what he has and instinctively close your legs, still experiencing discomfort.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and lightly taps your thighs, silently requesting you to open up. Reluctantly, you comply. As you feel the damp cloth glide over your swollen pussy, you try to pull away, but he firmly holds you in place with one hand on your hip bone. "Shh, it's alright," he reassures you in a gentle tone. "I'm just gonna clean you up, and then we can sleep, okay?"

As you lie on the bed, you notice Harry's erection prominently displayed through his black briefs and a pang of guilt washes over you for not pleasuring him. "But.......what about you? You're still hard. I could give you another blowjob or handjob. Whatever you want." Despite the tempting offer, Harry is too exhausted to engage in any additional activities tonight. Prior to this moment, he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Consequently, his drowsy state has returned as the explicit actions have ceased.

"It'll eventually go away, Y/n. I've got work in the mornin' and it's past midnight as is. Plus m'too tired to do anythin' more tonight. But, if I wasn't so tired and didn't have work so early, then you bet your ass I'd take you up on that offer."

Harry finishes cleaning between your legs and helps you slip your shorts back on. He then turns the TV off and crawls back into your bed beside you. Though your limbs are still weak, you manage to slide over until your head rests on his bare chest and your top leg is thrown over his hairy thigh closest to you.

As the moonlight glows through your bedroom window, sleep takes over both of you as the world around becomes quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are Pixie's soft purring from her location on the floor, the steadiness of Harry's heartbeat, and your exhails of breath.

In your dreaming state, you're still excited for the arrival of this upcoming Friday where you eagerly await the moment when your friends will finally have the chance to meet Harry. With high hopes for a successful gathering, you envision a joyous time ahead. Unbeknownst to Harry, the card game planned for the small get-together holds an R rating, implying that it will serve as an opportunity for everyone to bond and deepen their connections without the need for uncomfortable conversations in the future. Plus, mixed with the alcohol, you can't wait to find out some of Harry's dirty secrets.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles ��// @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

[cafejulii]

Truly one of the most amazing things I have come to discover during the reemergence of my hunter x hunter hyperfixation is the entirety of Leokuraudio. The events/punchlines that occur in them are so baffling to me in the best way possible.

For instance, what on earth do you mean that the creators of hxh 1999 decided to make a spin-off audio series that begins by introducing Leorio as an old man, and his grandson? The grandson finds a discarded set of audio tapes. When he confronts Leorio about what they are, he is hit by a massive wave of nostalgia, and tells his grandchild about how they were a podcast series he made back in the day while traveling the world, with, in his own words, his "very best friend" (Kurapika). They then begin to listen to the tapes, which is how we get the whole story.

What on earth do you mean there is an episode where Kurapika goes in a time machine to met Grandpa Leorio? Only, after he is done and decides to return back to the present, the machine is malfunctions and standing before him is Leorio as a toddler. He repeatedly begins to insist that Kurapika is a woman to which Kurapika is so annoyed by that he ends up yelling at a literal child. (By the way, Toddler Leorio still has the voice of a fully grown man as he continues to insult Kurapika.)

What on earth do you mean that are multiple episodes revolving around a robot that Leorio had built to perfectly resemble Kurapika? He had attempted to use it for cleaning and to take care of him while he was sick, only, Kurapika-robo starts to malfunction at the very mention of a spider's web and begins to repeatedly scream "chain" as it pelts Leorio with an actual chain. (Gon and Killua are even aware of the robot's existence while Kurapika himself remains oblivious of the whole charade until one of the very last episodes, where he walks in, shocked to find his mechanical evil twin. Leorio's only reaction to being caught is to exclaim "Ah the real one!!")

Speaking of Leorio, what on earth do you mean these audios consist of episodes of Leorio falling off Heaven's Arena, Leorio almost dying in an avalanche, Leorio getting lost in space....? (In short, Leorio goes through a lot but he has plot armor and Kurapika's assistance so it’s ok.)

And speaking of Kurapika, what on earth do you mean Leokuraudio has one of the most stoic characters within the entire series actually end up giving in to his phenomenal sense of humor? They really had him interrupting Leorio just to scream "that was ball!" in response to his attempted english pronunciations. There are so many more instances in which he does sassy shit like this too.

What on earth do you mean that each episode has unique, overly dramatic introduction for both Kurapika and Leorio? (There was one that specifically introduced Kurapika as the "sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets hit on by other guys" and Leorio as "the sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets arrested.")

What on earth do you mean that the entire comedic punchline of the "moody" audios is that they are essentially just clean parodies sensual/erotic audios from the 90’s? (described as "echi echi" by the two of them). Hearing the both of them say “soooo moody” to one another over and over again in the most suggestive voice ever was just....an experience to say the least. I truly cannot fathom how Togashi allowed these audios to air, yet, I am so grateful he did.

But it's also just mainly so fun to watch Kurapika and Leorio not be in a constant crisis and just have strings of conversation that are genuinely very sweet at times. I could go on and on, but for the sake of the length of this post, in conclusion, everything about Leokuraudio is just so utterly surreal yet so insanely hilarious. I couldn’t recommend it more.

@nanacriedpower this one is for u

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, a literal holiday romcom, stancy, 2.7k

<3

3 Months Later

Before we knew it, the holiday season had come around and it seemed like we were all scrambling to find gifts for each other. Nancy and Jonathan invited me to go Christmas shopping with them, seeing that we'd become very close in the past few months. Our shared trauma had a lot to do with that.

Jonathan had just called me and told me he'd be at my house five minutes ago. I glance at the clock again before returning my gaze out the window.

With a sigh, I trudge over to the phone hanging on the wall, starting to call Nancy's number. That's when I hear a car rolling into my driveway.

I grab my jacket, pulling it tight to my body before opening the front door and walking cheerfully outside. I instantly freeze, not because of the cold, but when I spot the maroon car sitting in my driveway.

Steve sends me a shy wave from inside his car. I hesitantly wave back before walking towards the passenger door and sitting inside.

"Hey," I say as Steve turns the heat up noticing my shivering figure, "I was supposed to be going shopping with Jonathan and Nancy."

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "Nance called and said something came up and asked if I could step in."

Also in the past few months, Nancy and Steve got back together. He really did love that girl.

"Oh well," I say buckling my seatbelt with a bright smile, "I guess we're doing this together then, Harrington."

"Yeah, I guess so, Henderson."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Steve walks behind me with a smile as I skip around the town while it snows. I stop at every window of every shop checking to see if anything catches my eye to give to one of my friends.

Steve seems to be struggling with what to get Nancy so I have to help him out a bit.

"How about that?" I tell Steve pointing at the pretty bracelet laying in the window of the local jewelry shop.

After a few moments, Steve slowly comes up to stand beside me, his warm presence filling the air as he glances at the bracelet on display. I continue to gaze in the window, my eyes locking on a silver necklace with a ring for a pendant. My gaze lingers there for a moment before I turn my attention back to Steve, who has been watching me this whole time with those eyes.

"Yeah, that's perfect." Steve says, breaking the silence, by referring to the bracelet I'd pointed out.

"Okay, great," I reply walking towards the door to the shop, "Lets go get it."

"Wait," Steve says, grabbing my arm before I can open the door, "I'll get it. You go ahead to the next place, I'll meet you there." He says quickly and I don't question it. I just nod and start my walk to the next store.

As I walk down the sidewalk, my feet crunching into the snow, I think about what I could get for Steve. I glance at the bags in my hands, feeling a pang of guilt and embarrassment as I realize I've gotten everyone something, except for him. He's never been the hardest to shop for, but the pressure of getting Steve the perfect gift is starting to get to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to let some creativity in, but so far, nothing comes to mind.

Suddenly, I hear quick footsteps coming from behind me. As I open my eyes I'm met with Steve who slows his stride before stopping by my side with a couple more small bags in hand.

Steve seems to notice something is up as he tilts his head to one side with a confused look, "You okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, no, I'm good." I say when we begin to walk through the freshly powered snow. "I'm just thinking."

"About me, I hope?" Steve replies with a smug smile on his face.

"It's always about you, Harrington."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The next day was Christmas Eve. Today I would be going over to the Wheeler's house to pick up Dustin from the boys' D&D campaign and hand out my gifts. And I still don't have anything for Steve.

I'm starting to freak out a little bit.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts racing with each breath I take. As the words repeat over and over in my head, I can't help but think of Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve. What would Steve like?

I sit up in bed, as the exhaustion builds inside of me. Wanting to take a break from the constant thoughts of Steve, I decide to leave the house in search of some fresh air. I grab my jacket and head towards downtown, finding a quiet bench, wiping the fresh snow off before sitting down.

As I watch the people and couples stroll by, I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace and relief.

Then, I hear soft footsteps crunching through the snow, approaching me. I look up to see an old lady, probably in he 80's, sitting down next to me, her soft and gentle eyes gazing at me with warmth and kindness. She smiles, and I respond with one of my own. The two of us share a peaceful moment, the snow falling slowly around us and sparkling in the light.

"Hey," I turn slowly towards the lady, "Could you maybe help me with something?"

"What can I help you with, honey?" The lady replies kindly.

"Um, so I have this friend, and I haven't found a gift for him yet." I let out a small sigh before continuing, "I just don't know what to do because I want it to be perfect." I finish, glancing back at the lady who just smiles.

"This friend must be very special, huh?" She asks with a certain look hiding behind those soft eyes.

"Yeah." I respond, almost dreamily, "He is."

"If you mean as much to him as he does to you, I don't think it would matter what you get him," The lady says, that soft smile never leaving her face, "As long as it's from the heart." She finishes, holding her hand up to her chest, where her heart is.

I finally know what I want to give to Steve thanks to a sudden inspiration courtesy of a random old lady's brilliant mind. I quickly thank her before rushing home so I can get the gift done before I have to head over to the Wheeler's.

Frantically, I rummage through my room, searching for the old camera Steve and I used to use together. I find it in an unexpected spot, under my bed, before heading back into town to a local shop where I can get the photos developed. I wait impatiently while the pictures dry. When they're finally done, I grab them stuffing them into my bag before going home. I grin as I shut my bedroom door behind me, knowing they'll make the perfect gift for Steve.

I slip the pictures into a small envelope before grabbing a sheet of paper to write a letter to Steve. With a clear and steady hand, I start to write, my thoughts and emotions flowing as I compose the perfect message for the one who has always meant the world to me.

As I write, a flood of memories come rushing into my mind.

"Is it a little strange? Sure, but it's also romantic. When I heard it for the first time, it reminded me of you."

I smile as I remember that night we'd spent on his bedroom floor. I remember his warm smile, the gentle touches, the mix-tape we'd never finished.

"I don't really know who you are anymore Steve."

"Then let me show you,"

I pause in my writing to dwell on the night Steve snuck into my room, all those months ago. That was the night our friendship was truly reborn in a moment of secrecy and trust.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, freak."

A single tear slips out, fueled by the bitter memory of what Steve called me months ago. I let my anger and frustration spill into the paper, letting which lets the rest of my emotions loose.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?"

"Protecting your sorry ass."

I let out a light chuckle of amusement as my rage from earlier dissolves into a warm flood of happy memories.

I remember the day we made our promise, when Steve and I were just kids. We sat with our legs dangling in the pool, lightly swinging our feet through the water. The water glimmered in the sunlight, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees as we watched our reflections in the ripples of the water. I remember the sense of calm unity that we felt in that moment, our friendship forged in the waters of that pool, our words spoken with so much hope and faith in our hearts.

"We won't ever stop being friends, right?”

"We're in this together, Steve Harrington."

"Always."

With a small smile on my face, I carefully slip the letter into the envelope alongside our childhood pictures. I then gently place the envelope in my backpack, where it lies with the rest of the presents I'll be giving out later today.

Then I realize I've made a love letter in disguise.

Shit.

Oh well.

I hear a couple knocks on the front door and promptly open it, finding Jonathan standing on the other side with a warm smile. As he gestures towards the driveway, I nod and head out the door, putting my backpack on and grabbing my jacket. We then drive to the Wheeler's house to pick up our brothers from their campaign. I'm filled with excitement and anticipation as we pull up, eager to see my friends reactions to the gifts I picked out for them.

As we pull up to the house, I notice Steve's maroon car sitting in the driveway, the sight causing my smile to falter ever so slightly. The thoughts of him and Nancy getting back together run through my mind. But I remind myself that Steve and Nancy are my friends, and I'm going to support their decision, no matter how much it hurts.

Jonathan and I get out of the car and walk up to the door where a very cheerful Mrs. Wheeler greets us, with a tray of cookies in hand.

"Merry Christmas, kids," She greets with a warm smile, "Cookie?" She offers pushing out the tray towards us.

"Ooh, thanks, Mrs. Wheeler!" I exclaim happily, grabbing a cookie before walking alongside Jonathan into the house.

"Nancy is upstairs with Steve and the boys are in the basement." Mrs. Wheeler comments before making her way back to the kitchen with the rest of the cookies.

"Perfect," I say before walking down the stairs to the basement.

"Jeez, what's that smell?" Jonathan says as I bring my hand up to my nose to plug it, "Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?" Jonathan asks, making me let out a snort.

"Oh, that's just Dustin." Lucas giggles, "He farted. Dustin farted." Lucas sings while making farting noises.

"Okay." Dustin replies annoyed.

"Dustin farted." Lucas continues to sing.

"Very mature, Lucas." My brother comments and I let out another chuckle.

"Will." Jonathan says, grabbing his brother's attention, who stand up with a smile, "Come on."

"Shut up." Dustin repeats.

"Dustin farted!" Lucas sings, standing from his seat.

"Bye guys." Will says with a little wave before following his brother up the stairs.

"Bye Will." The three boys chorus at the same time.

"Dust, we gotta go too," I say with a smile as the boys say goodbye to their friend, "But first, presents!" I sing, opening my backpack.

As the boys sift through my bag and pull out their gifts with excitement, I watch them with a smile on my face. They thank me for the thoughtful presents with wide grins, giving me affectionate hugs. I wave goodbye to the boys before, Dustin and I rush up the stairs. Where Mrs. Wheeler is waiting.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Wheeler." Dustin and I say at the same time and I send her a soft smile.

"Merry Christmas, guys." She returns my smile, "Say hi to your mom for me."

"We will." I reply before heading towards the door. I usher Dustin out, telling him that I'll be right there.

Before I can make my way up the stairs to Nancy's room, her and Steve come rushing down the stair. In a flurry of holiday cheer and joy, the two of them make their way towards me, their faces filled with excitement with presents in hand.

"We thought we heard your voice." Nancy says with a sweet smile, handing me a present, "Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Nancy." I say sincerely before she nods, walking towards her mom whose still in the kitchen.

I place the tiny gift box into my backpack grabbing the envelope for Steve before facing the nervous looking boy in front of me.

"I—"

"Here." I say, shoving the letter into his hand.

"Oh, thanks." Steve replies, starting to open the letter.

"Wait!" I say frantically grabbing his hands, preventing him from opening it right now.

"Later?" Steve asks, reading my mind.

"Yeah." I let out a relieved sigh as Steve puts the letter into his front pocket.

I stare into Steve's eyes for a moment, my heart fluttering with every beat. Then he reaches into his back pocket and suddenly reveals a small jewelry box, the sight causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"Uh, I got you something." Steve says, fidgeting with the box in his hand, before reaching out to grab my hand, placing the box into my palm gently, "You can open it now, if you want."

I slowly and carefully open the box, my anticipation growing with every inch it opens. When the lid finally lifts, however, I can't help but gasp as I catch glimpse of the necklace from yesterday, the one with the ring. I stare at the necklace in my hand, eyebrows furrowed as I try to make sense of this gift.

My thoughts run wild as I look up at the boy whose staring at me with excitement and slight worry.

"Read it." Steve says softly, "The ring."

I grab the ring noticing the engraved message on the inside.

Always

My eyes start to tear up when I glance up at Steve.

"Whoa, you don't like it?" Steve questions with a concerned look.

"No, no, I love it, Steve." I laugh lightly at his worry.

"Oh, good." He replies rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I?" Steve asks, reaching his hands out towards the box.

With blush spreading across my cheeks, I nod as Steve steps closer, his warm hands taking the necklace. He gently moves my hair to the side and quickly fastens the necklace around my neck with a soft click. As he shifts my hair back into place, I turn back around, our faces inches apart.

"Thank you, Steve." I say softly, glancing at his lips, "I really love it."

"Yeah, I mean, I saw you looking at it and I—"

I cut him off with a quick hug, a warm feeling pooling in my chest as I feel his arms wrap around me. We stand there by the front door of the Wheeler's house, our bodies pressed together, the moment charged with emotion. I lean in and give his cheek a quick peck before finally parting ways. I turn towards the door, my hand resting on the knob.

"Bye, Steve." I say, sending him a small wave before opening the door.

"Bye." Steve replies dazed, but still gives me a two-finger wave.

I smile because something changed, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing anymore.

<3

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[animatorweirdo]

How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband? Part 2

Part 1

(Second part for the crack fic. I hope you enjoy this one)

Warnings: Reader being a headache to her family, Sauron just dealing with her antics, Melkor getting robbed of his lieutenant and Manwe not getting paid enough to deal with this.

----------------------------------

Nerdanel: *Sobbing* I can't believe our daughter would disappear again. What has Melkor's servant done to her mind to make her act like this?

Feanor: *Visibly angry* This is why the valars can't be trusted. They allowed something like this to occur to my only daughter. 

You: *Kicks the door open* Naneth! Atar! I'm home, and I have news for you! 

Nerdanel: *Startled* (Name)! Where have you been? And who is that beneath your arm?

You: *Carrying Sauron beneath your arm like a potato sack* My new husband! 

Your whole family: YOUR WHAT?!!!

Sauron: *Waving at them awkwardly* Uhm... hey. 

***

Feanor: (Name)! You can't just decide to marry someone you have only known for like a month! And he's one of the Ainur!

You: Don't worry. Mairon's a rogue, so he doesn't belong with the valar. 

Feanor: That's not what I meant! Why would you want to marry him anyway?!

You: One, he's less loud than all of you. Two, he's hot, and three, he gave me a dog— something you have refused to give me for centuries! 

Feanor: Seriously? 

You: *Holding Carna* Dead seriously!

Carna: Woof!

Feanor: (Name)!

Your brothers: *Glaring at Sauron* Hurt her, and you're dead. 

Sauron: *Deadpan* I'm literally the one that got kidnapped. 

***

Melkor: Well, well, well... now this is something I didn't expect to happen. 

Sauron: Hello, master. 

Melkor: So, what's your plan with Feanor's daughter? Did you seduce her? Did you brainwash her? Is your plan to have power over Feanor's house by marriage? 

Sauron: No. She just decided we should be married and forced me to come here. By the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. 

Melkor: Huh?

Sauron: *Slides in a resignation letter* 

Melkor: You want to quit? Why! Is it because you suddenly got a wife now?

Sauron: Master... it's literally been like 300 years since we even spoke. Everyone has literally gone in their own ways. 

Melkor: What? 

Sauron: Yeah. There's no one at Angband. We assumed you would never come back, so we didn't see a point to continue.

Melkor: Seriously? 

Sauron: No hard feelings. I might come back if you come up with something, but for now, I have different things to deal with. *Leaves*

You: *Grinning at Melkor* Haha! Fuck you, your lieutenant is mine now!

Melkor: *Silence*

Melkor: Oh dear– I got robbed of my lieutenant before I could rob her father’s silmarils. 

***

Your family: *Arguing with you in front of the valars*

You: *Arguing back* 

Manwe: *Having an headache*

Manwe: Alright! Settle down. I have a proposition that might help both of you in this matter! 

You & your family: *Look at him silently*

Manwe: (Name) Since your family wants you to stay, but you do not want to break your relationship with Sauron. How about this? During winter years, you shall spend your time with Sauron in Middle Earth, and during spring years, you will spend your time with your family in Valinor. 

You: *Thinks about it* Yeah, sounds good to me. 

Your family: Wait, it's the start of autumn. 

You: Woohoo! Which means half a year without you!

You: *Grap Sauron and began leaving* Bye! I see you in spring! 

Your family: *Sobs* (Name)!

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Fic Writer Questions

Thank you @graysparrowao3 , this was a great post to come back to Tumblr with :) I tag @redroomroaving @darkurgetrash @forget-me-maybe

Let’s go!

How many works have you got on AO3?

Not counting the two in Volo’s Erotic Library collections, 27!

What is your total word count?

271,334 (excl. VEL!)

What are your top five most kudosed works?

1. Sharp Teeth (624)

2. Après Théâtre (291)

3. Planar Tears (259)

4. Sharess’s Sundries (188)

5. Tail and Tongue (123)

1 was the definition of catching the Rolan wave (but it’s also a really good fic too, and I’m proud of it). 2, Après Théâtre, was my first ever fic, a WWDITS S2 continuation written in lockdown. I got very lucky with its reception!

4 and 5 are definitely the combination of “smut at the peak of the Rolan fandom”, and also the immediate follow-ons to Sharp Teeth, which nets them more foot traffic. (… and also milder kinks than some of the weird shit I’ve posted since lol). I love receiving a little kudos train in my email from someone who’s clearly devoured the whole Sharp Teeth series in one night!

(Also Tail and Tongue is a godawful name that makes Rolan sound like stew, but it’s also kind of hilarious to me because of that so I guess it stays. Note to self for future: no disembodied parts for a “sexy” title!)

What fandoms do you write for?

These days, basically just BG3— but I finished my “last” fic for Ambition: A Minuet in Power in February and immediately got hit with more Ludovico thoughts so we’ll see. I did once sketch out an entire longfic reverse isekai thing for Ludovico and Yvette, with 18th century priest Ludovico falling through a wall into 2010s-to-modern Paris and meeting Yvette… but after Planar Tears, I need to take a year-long break from big plotty longfics for life reasons, so that’s a “maybe one day” idea.

(Relatedly and always: play Ambition: A Minuet in Power, people! It is so much fun!)

Do you respond to comments?

Always. Always always always. The only situation in which a single comment goes un-responded to is if someone left like 6 in a row, and then I might group some of my replies to a later comment. (But at this point, I just like replying to each individually lol).

People reading and enjoying my writing is such a gift; I will always want to say thank you and express my appreciation back.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. Well, all my fics so far have happy endings! I have an original novel on the go that I firmly think will end up ambiguous rather than straightforwardly happy.

Fae Bindings will probably be the “angstiest” for my fics, because it’s not possible to completely fix dead-siblings, post-Lorroakan Rolan. He will be happy… but in large part because he’s lost parts of himself he used to hold dear. At least he’s got a loving, sexy, totally-not-manipulative Fae reader to take care of him through it!

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It’s got to be Sharp Teeth. Planar Tears will also have a happy ending, but the overall bouncy tone of Sharp Teeth lends itself to the most uncomplicated happiness. They have the Tower, and each other, and Rolan has his family and Tav-Reader has her friends. And they’re engaged! That epilogue made me very happy to write.

Have you ever got hate on a fic?

No, and at this point I think I’d truthfully find it quite funny. The closest I’ve got is someone on Reddit complaining in a “what do you hate most in fics thread’ about the untagged eartonguing in what I am absolutely sure from the timing, description and their profile was Sharp Teeth. I have subsequently tagged it because it literally just didn’t occur to me, but it does crack me up that a bit of consensual tongue-in-ear generated such a violent EW NO response. I guess I wrote it very vividly! ;)

I actually have “concrit welcome” tagged on Planar Tears, but no-one’s given me any except a query about my dialogue formatting (British, and sticking to it I’m afraid! I love our non-intrusive single quotation marks. Although I think I maybe follow American style rules about putting dashes inside quotes, so I should maybe make that more consistent some time).

I’d genuinely love to hear stuff like “I really enjoyed X subplot, but it felt like it came kind of out of nowhere?”, or “I see why you needed Y plot point for character growth, but it dragged a bit”, since I’m always trying to hone my skills, and I feel like on a story-telling level it’s particularly hard without outside input. But I also know concrit is hard work and a gift in itself, so I understand why I haven’t got any!

Do you write smut?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahhahhahhahhaha

Do you write crossovers?

Not as yet! I do really enjoy crack though and crossovers lend themselves to that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of. I’d be open to it if someone asked!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I currently have something cooking along these lines ;) But it’s early days, so I’ll say no more!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh man. I don’t read fic for them, because the book closes their story absolutely perfectly— but it’s Elizabeth and Darcy all the way. I have loved that ship since I was 11-12 and fell headfirst into Pride and Prejudice’s embrace.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m a good plotter. There’s perhaps a little drag in the midsection of Planar Tears, but I overall really think I crafted a story that sets up the stakes, gives the characters opportunities to grow (and fail) and lets us have some fun on the way. And now, we’re about to run into both Lorroakan— who’s been a lurking, teased-but-not-seen presence through most of the storyline— and well, I’ll let my readers guess why Ethel’s ring has made its reappearance, but I think it’s fair to say she is this novel’s overarching antagonist, and that storyline will hopefully come to a satisfying conclusion!

The next challenge, I guess, is to fully plot out my original novel without the stabilizer wheels of pre-existing canon to catch me. I could also definitely tighten up my plotting skills more generally!

Also I think I write banging smut, but I think I might be biased there ;)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Overly breathy writing, especially in emotional or smut scenes. I need to commit to punctuating more sentences, rather than em-dashing the entire way through it. It reads far better to me when I go back and do that after the fact!

Generally speaking, I’m still yet to hit my own “style”, I think. It varies a lot depending on my latest reading; I sponge it up and then it just leaks back into my own writing. Lately, I’ve gone back to The Age of Innocence to finish it, so my readers can probably expect a slight uptick in formality for Planar Tears chapter 33…

Thoughts on writing in another language?

This reminds me I need to go and fix the little bits of Spanish in Après Théatre (because Guillermo canonically talks to his mum in Spanish, and I did a TERRIBLE job of it lmao).

This is half a joke, but I tried to write “Short Shorts (And Cold Beer) ” in American English (since it’s based on 80s American summer camps) and only half succeeded lol. I am SUPER sensitive to Americanisms where they don’t belong, so no doubt a transatlantic version of me would be annoyed by in the inverse in my own writing there! (I still say Rolan has a “stilted Baldurian accent”, so we’re sticking with the very British accent he has in the game and pretending it’s a Waterdeep vs Baldurian/Elturian difference. American Rolan would sound so wrong!)

First fandom you ever wrote for?

What We Do In The Shadows! I absolutely love writing comedy, and WWDITS was a pandemic lifeline, a much needed infusion of joy.

Favourite fic ever written?

Planar Tears, as ever. We are now in the very final strait, and in my draft Rolan and Catrin are poised on the doorstep of Sorcerous Sundries, about to meet Lorroakan and face a storm of events that has been gathering throughout the whole novel.

I can’t believe I’m this far through it. Far later than I thought I would be, but it was always ambitious to think I’d keep up a one-chapter-a-week schedule anyway. Over a year for 100k+ words (whilst writing other things on the side!) is not only reasonable but far in excess of any writing I’ve ever done before— and I can’t express how weird I’m going to feel when it’s done. My god. But at the same time, I cannot wait. Rolan and Catrin and all my lovely readers deserve their conclusion, and I’m feeling optimistic about writing a good one.

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 7: Finally Free | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (You Are Here) | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: The phantoms are struggling with y/n leaving the band and one of them with flourishing feelings for the girl. They finally book another gig, but feelings are conflicting and the phantoms are flickering. Not to mention, y/n's grounded for skipping class.

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs in this chapter] (Minsung if you squint)

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Mentions of death

Notice: You lovelys know the drill! I have no ownership of 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor do I believe Han is gay in real life. Enjoy the chapter, my darlings!

You dashed into dance class, the instructor chanting out steps for your peers to complete.

"Oh, y/n," she scowled. "So nice of you to join us."

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologized. "I overslept."

"Take your spot," your teacher snapped and you did as she demanded; you made your way over next to Flynn, joining in with the choreography the instructor was teaching. Flynn greeted you with a slight smile.

"And you didn't wake me up why?" you questioned, shaking your head slightly. "I missed my first three classes!"

"You said you were never going to show your face at this school ever again," Flynn shrugged, still keeping in time with the dance moves, "and I am a very literal person!"

"It's fine," you sighed deeply, waving your arms around in circles to mirror the dance moves. "It's those dumb ghosts I'm really mad at. I would kill them if they weren't already dead."

"Having a band is supposed to help your social life, not harm it," Flynn commented.

"Ex-band."

You and Flynn stopped to look at each other; for a moment, you swore there was disappointment in her eyes.

"Right. Ex-band, sorry" she corrected. You and Flynn kneeled to the ground as your instructor had commanded.

"It's all so messy," you said in disbelief. "I thought they had my back, but obviously I was wrong."

"Don't blame yourself," Flynn replied, stretching down on her legs. "You can only be so strong when three cute ghosts ask you to join a band. Speaking of cute," Flynn ended her mantra with a sing-song voice; you had hoped she would ask about Chan, anything about Chan. You had refused to talk to him since the night of the dance, and the distance was getting to you.

Granted, the distance was only for a day, but it still ached.

You wanted to talk about him, wanted to see him. You finally admitted your feelings for him to Flynn, and now you could not even stand to look at him; however, you wanted to. You wanted to talk about his idiotic revenge plan, his stupidly cute face and perfect smile, and the way he had angered you yet he had looked so handsome while doing it.

"Yeah? What about cute?" you decided to inquire instead of rambling about the Australian.

"Have you talked to Felix today?" The hopeful flicker in your eyes dimmed, and Flynn noticed. "What? You not like him anymore?" It was not that you did not like Felix; you did!...Just not as much as you liked Chan. Not to mention, you were dreading the disappointment you knew Felix was going to have when he saw you, if he even bothered to look your way now.

"What? No, no, I do! I just haven't spoken to him." You began to do a bit of thigh stretches, one in which you were semi-bent down in between your legs. "At least I know I won't see him in this class."

The next thing you knew, you stretched downwards and caught a glimpse of the blonde you were dwelling negatively upon seeing.

"Are you serious?!" you nearly screamed.

"What?"

"What are they doing here?" You quickly stood up, turning Flynn around so she could see what you were talking about. Coach Seo and the soccer team were crowding the front entrance to the gymnasium; Felix in particular was fixated on the ground.

"Right on time, Coach Seo!" your dance instructor gleefully greeted. "Students! Coach Seo and I have decided that his soccer team will be apart of our class for a few weeks. Many pro athletes have used dance in order to improve mobility and flexibility."

"This isn't about flirting with girls," Coach Seo warned his team, causing them to chuckle. "It's about making us better so we can win a game. We lost against Burbank. Burbank!" Coach Seo yelled at his team.

"Well, remember Coach," the dance teacher said softly. "Composure is a huge element of dance. Now, everyone pair up!"

You and Flynn looked at each other, concern etched upon your features; there was no doubt in your mind who was going to pick you as their partner, and your mentality was already protesting against it.

Your fears were confirmed when a young boy dragged Flynn away as she muttered a string of apologies; before you knew it, you were alone, with a deep-voiced, cinnamon roll-esque blonde standing right in front of you.

"Hey," he greeted you, quietly yet joyfully, to which you reciprocated. albeit hesitantly.

"Okay, ladies," your instructor caught your attention. "We are going to practice the routine we learned last week, and we will perform it with the boys this Friday. Coach Seo and I will demonstrate."

"No," Coach Seo instantly denied. "I don't dance."

"Well, now you do." Your instructor jerked Coach Seo by his wrist, instantly pulling him into the routine as she prepared to refresh the steps with the class.

"You ready for this?" you looked at Felix, scanning his face for any sign of hesitance.

"I guess," he shrugged. "I mean, my little sister does throw a lot of princess dance parties." The comment made you shake your head playfull as Felix giggled.

The routine began, and you worked yourself easily through the steps you had rehearsed a week prior; Felix, who you had known to be a dancer himself, quickly caught the hang of the routine.

"Not so bad, your majesty," you gave a bow as the practice ended.

"Thank you," he chuckled out before approaching you slightly. "So, about the dance?"

There it was.

There were the four words you had dreaded hearing from Felix's mouth.

"Y'know, I was hoping if I never talked about it, we could pretend it never happened," you admitted as the second round of practice picked up; you and Felix still conversed through the movements.

"You'll be alright, okay?" he assured you, slightly taking you back since you were expecting pure dejection. "You're tough, and you've been through way worse." You nodded gratefully, stepping back into position as the music began for a third time.

"I am not used to dancing like this," Felix laughed, quickly changing the subject of conversation.

"You and Carrie never dance together?" you asked him, a part of you genuine but the other being nosy.

"Nope," Felix responded, "and we never will. We broke up." Your back was to Felix at this point, and you were glad; after all, he could not see the smile you had held back at this point.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, sounding more excited than intended. "You did?"

"Yeah. I'm just done with her antics. I don't know if you've noticed, but she isn't the nicest girl," Felix jokingly remarked, spinning you around on the dance floor.

"What?" you sarcastically prolonged the question. "Never noticed." Felix gave another heart guffaw; focusing on your comment was perhaps the reason he fell as he tried to take his next step, that being a leap through the air.

"You uh," he smacked his hand against his forehead, rubbing aggressively out of embarassment. "You sure you wanna be partners?" You outstretched a hand to the poor boy, smiling genuinely.

"We'll get it eventually."

---

"Boys!" Chan called loudly as he approached Han and Changbin; the two boys were sitting at a coffee table, watching somewhat eagerly as a woman took photos of her food. "Being a ghost has its perks, let me tell you. I just wrote our names down on the playlist for tonight!"

"I'm getting worried about him," Han whispered to Changbin as if Chan was not there. "He keeps forgetting y/n quit the band."

"Oh please," Chan scoffed. "She's gonna come back as soon as we book an amazing gig, which is this very spot, my mates!" Chan sounded genuine, but his voice was faux; secretly, he was worried you were not going to rejoin the band. He had only spent one day away from you, and he felt his soul crumbling without you.

Without you, the guys had no purpose.

They did not have time to comprehend that, however, as another flicker panged throughout their bodies and engulfed them in immense pain.

"Not this again," Han exasperatedly huffed.

"It feels like that time I fixed my amp in the rain," Changbin remarked in the same tone of voice, earning concerned stares from the other two.

"You...okay, is there something wrong with us?" Han questioned in fear.

"Yes," Chan answered. "We danced the night away for hours. I'm sure this is just ghostly recooperation."

"So, did we just forget about getting back at Hyunjin?" Changbin asked, deterring the subject at hand. "I mean, the jerk stole our songs."

"And just like y/n said," Chan added on, "we have a new band, a new sound! That's what we should be focusing on. Hyunjin will just have to live with the guilt of betraying us."

"You're mentioning y/n an awful lot lately," Changbin smirked at the older boy. Chan sunk in his seat slightly, his heart beginning to race at the mention of your name.

"Well, yeah," Chan shrugged his shoulders, flicking his eyes to his hands. "I think I-"

"Is that Minho?" Han suddenly inquiered, unintentionally cutting Chan off. Chan and Changbin turned towards the window where Han was staring and caught a glimpse of the boy peeking into the coffee shop; he noticed them, however, and quickly skated away. Han immediately warped outside, attempting to catch up with Minho.

"Someone is definitely not focusing on our music," Changbin smiled knowingly, tilting his head towards the boy standing outside.

Chan smiled slightly, his thoughts quickly refocusing on you.

Turns out, there were two people not focusing on the music.

---

"Hello, Minho."

"Seungmin, hi. Um... I... I was actually just..."

"Checking on the boys for me? How is my band doing?"

"Uh... Well, they're flickering. Just like you wanted them to."

"Wonderful. Oh, and Minho, the next time you want to check on the boys for me, let me know."

---

You walked down the steps to the studio, hoping to get some alone time with your music; however, you found that the garage doors had already been opened.

"We're sorry!" Changbin sang.

"So sorry!" Han added on.

"We're super duper crazy really," Chan crescendoed.

"Sorry!" All thee boys rang out the last word of the lyric, waving their hands in a jazz like fashion and beaming.

"In case you missed it, we are super sorry," Changbin clarified.

"Yeah, message received," you bluntly informed them as you crossed your eyebrows. You thought the act was adoring, but you still held resentment towards the boys for last night.

"We've been here for like three hours," Han explained, high fiving Changbin as Chan stood up; he had been kneeling on the ground while he gave the jazz-hands.

"We almost sang to your little brother," Chan chuckled in contrast to your stoic expression. "But, y/n, we know flaking on the dance was really trashy of us. We let you down."

"And the last thing we want to do is disappoint you," Han reaffirmed. "Especially Chan. He has been talking all day about how he misses-" Chan elbowed Han in the stomach, preventing him from talking any further while giving you a faux smile.

"The point is," Chan interjected. "In hopes that you'll rejoin the band, we booked a gig." He handed you a sheet of paper; it was a poster, detailing the music gig he had signed you guys up for at the coffee shop hours prior. "Check it out; tons of managers and executives hang out here looking for new bands. If we blow them away, y/n and the Phantoms has a record deal and is living the dream!"

"So this means a lot to you, Chan?" you questioned, already having semblence of an answer. Chan's joy quickly faltered as he predicted your next question. "Kind of how playing in front of my entire school meant a lot to me?"

"Look, we know we messed up," Han tried to reason with you as your gaze bounced between all three boys.

"But we need you in the band," Chan finished, making soulful eye contact with you. He stepped towards you, making a faint reach for your hand.

"Of course you do," you snapped, causing Chan to jerk his hand away; it was not like it would have made contact anyways. "Without me, no one sees you guys playing." You directed your attention solely onto Chan, approaching him in anger.

"I thought the music we were writing, the connection we had even, was special. But I should have known that a guy way to focused on his past to look ahead of himself wouldn't care about some songs he was writing with a naive girl."

"I do care!" Chan retaliated. "And you are not some naive girl to me you're..." You waited on a response; however, Chan just sighed and dropped his hands down. "Look, the point is that this band has a chance to be something spectacular, and I am not letting that opportunity get away from us again."

"So, why did you bail on me to get back at Sam then?" you asked, crossing your arms; like prior, Chan sighed instead of giving a response.

"I'll tell you why: 'cause there's only one thing you care about and it's yourself."

You did not give Chan time to respond; you stomped out of the studio, raging storms clouding your thoughts. You may have liked Chan, but all you saw in that moment was his selfish side; you were convinced he was using you for his own gain, and it was incredibly hard to forgive that. Thus, you left him, and the other guys, alone in the garage.

Chan slowly stepped out after you, feeling the urge to chase after you, but he decided not to go any farther; he felt tears well in his eyes for the first time since death.

"She didn't mean it, Chan," Han tried to reassure his friend, but it was no use. Chan had warped away in the blink of an eye.

"Where's he going?"

"Where do you think, Binnie?"

---

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a random magazine when Han and Changbin teleported into the living room.

"You got a moment?" Han asked you; you ignored him, opting to continue skimming the articles of the magazine.

"Oh no! She can't see us anymore!" Changbin panicked, eliciting an annoyed groan from Han; Han walked over to the couch, propping himself up on the arm and causing Changbin to gasp in realization.

You could see them; you were just ignoring them.

"Y/n, please."

"I already told you that I'm done with you guys," you barked, not looking up from the editorial.

"We know," Han nodded. "But before you decide that forever, we just wanted you to know that Chan isn't as selfish as you think he is."

"Yeah, you've got it all wrong," Changbin emphasized, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes. Changbin and Han looked at each other; Changbin nodded at Han, some sort of telepathic brainwaves floating between the two on what to do next.

"You remember the song about Emily? That you saw in Chan's notebook?" Upon your nod, Han closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Can we at least show you who that's actually about?"

---

You were standing outside of a brick house, peering around a couple of evergreen trees just on the deck. The house's backside had a sliding glass window, so you were able to analyze everything inside.

Chan was perched atop a kitchen counter, his knees pressed against his chest. Beside him, and older woman and a young girl, who was about the age that Chan would be if he was still alive, were preparing some sort of dish; you were not sure exactly what yet. An older man sat at the dining room table, his head resting on the palm of his hand.

Chan was crying, his bloodshot eyes darting between all three of the family members.

"Is Emily his sister?" you questioned, your gaze focused upon the younger of the two girls.

"No," Han denied. "His sister's name is Hannah. Emily's his mom. Chan comes here a lot."

"He thinks we don't know, but..." Changbin trailed off slightly. "We've been following him. All he does is sit like this and watch them, but they never really do anything."

You watched as the older woman, who you now knew as Emily, sat down the dish she and Hannah had prepared; it was a chocolate cake, adorned with buttercream icing.

"They're having cake," you softly noticed. "That's something."

"It's a birthday cake," Changbin informed you, his own eyes beginning to tear up. "It's for Chan."

Chan watched every action of his family, from the way Hannah sat the cake down to his parents taking each other's hands as his mom sat down at the table; you could see every time he sobbed, sniffled, or blinked a tear away. It broke your heart to see the boy you cared so much for like this.

"I never knew he was hurting this much," you whispered, your voice waivering from despair.

"He doesn't like to show it," Han explained. "It's even worse because when he died, he was no contact with his family. His parents didn't want their seventeen year old son in a rock band, so he left. Because of that, his sister felt betrayed so she never wanted to reach out. He never had the opportunity to make up to them."

Chan hopped off of the kitchen counter, making his way to sit at the fourth, empty seat at the table. He looked between his family members, smiling slightly as they reminisced on the good memories about him. He blew out the lit candle on the birthday cake, causing his family to gasp in surprise and glance around the house; they felt his presence.

"That's why Chan was angry," Changbin noted. "If Hyunjin had given Chan credit for writing all of the songs, then Chan's parents would've known his dream was worth chasing."

You closed your eyes, feeling a droplet cascade down your face.

"They would be so proud of him," you softly sobbed, your heart breaking for the crying boy at the table.

They would have been proud of him, just like you were.

This time, you watched as Chan's father relit the candle; Chan opted on blowing the candle out together with his family, his parents and sister holding hands. He had a sad smile on his face, a mixture of regret and joy present in his demeanor. You wiped the tears from your face as Han stood up.

"We know what it's like to feel betrayed, y/n," he told you. "We never meant to make you feel that way."

"We love the band," Changbin clarified. "And so does Chan....Give us another chance?" You peered at the boy in the window once again, admiring his smile in a time of despair.

You looked at Changbin, then at Han, and nodded your head.

---

Han's drumset roared with thunder, Changbin's bass with lightning, and your voice with power as you practiced the song you had set your focus on performing tonight; it was called, 'Finally Free,' and it was one that you and Chan had written together.

Speaking of the Australian leader, he had teleported suddenly into the studio, falling backwards slightly to where he was sitting on a chair.

"Y/n?" he stated like a question. "What are you guys up to?" His gaze flickered to Han and Changbin.

"Grab your guitar," you commanded. "We got work to do." Chan looked to the guys for reassurance once more, with both guys nodding their heads in reassurance; a wide smile spread across Chan's features as he grabbed his guitar. He stepped over to you, the familiar admiration in his eyes.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked, running his fingers absentmindedly along your keyboard.

"I realized that music has a special place in all of our lives," you responded, your cheeks heating up from the soft eye-contact you and Chan had. "We've lost so much already. We can't lose each other too."

"Thank you," he quietly appreciated, causing you to playfully smirk; Chan quickly licked his lips, glancing quickly to the floor then back at you. "Alright, boss lady. What's the plan?" You shook your head, laughing at his comment. You bit your lip slightly and looked up at him.

"By the way, Chan: happy birthday."

---

"Care to tell me why you missed the first three classes today?" Your dad stood in front of you, his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You sighed dejectedly, sitting down on the couch while holding a pillow close to your chest.

"I overslept at Flynn's house after the dance," you explained. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"Okay," your dad nodded. "But you know it's only a matter of time before-" Your dad was cut off by your aunt bursting through the doorway.

"I came as fast as I could!" she yelled, waiving her hand dramatically in the air as she approached you. She slammed her purse down on the couch beside you. "Y/n, I am NOT letting you fall into the gutters!"

"Auntie, I'm fine," you clarified. "Plus, dad and I already talked about it!"

"You are clearly not fine, deary!" she cried out melodramatically. "I called your teacher! She said you missed a math test!" You shut your eyes tightly, wincing as your aunt informed the entire neighborhood of that fact.

"Nothing going on today, huh?" your dad sarcastically repeated.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," you apologized once more, holding back a chuckle at the way he was trying to look serious when your aunt demanded him to punish you.

"Y/n, no going out on school nights for a week," he solemnly declared; your heart sank to your stomach.

"Dad! No! Tonight is-" Your aunt cleared her throat, interjecting in the sentence.

"And go to your room!" he added on. "Now!"

You scoffed at both him and your aunt, dragging your feet sluggishly up the stairs to your bedroom.

---

You laid on your bed, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. You felt horrible; after all, you had just wasted the lifetime opportunity of a huge gig. Why did you have to be so foolish? Why did your aunt have to say anything? Why did-

Your train of thought was derailed at the sound of knocking at your door; you glanced over to the door to see a leather jacketed arm passed through, knocking on the inside.

"Changbin, what are you doing?" you giggled as you asked.

"I'm being classy!" he informed you before he was quickly pulled out of the door frame by Chan; the latter passed through the doorway and made his way to sit on your bed.

"Why are you still here, Love? We're leaving in like twenty minutes, aren't we?" Your brain focused for a second on the way he had called you, 'Love,' and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as you attempted to respond. Yet, the feeling quickly morphed back into dejection.

"I lied to my dad so I'm grounded," you admitted to the boys.

"What?!" Han nearly screamed. "No, we have to go! We were just at the venue, and it's packed! There's VIPs, managers, everyone important!"

"Okay, but what about my aunt?" you inquired sternly. "She's right downstairs!" Chan started laughing, causing you to look at him confused.

"The stairs?" Chan asked you as he walked over to your window, sliding it open with ease. "You're not taking the stairs." You stared in awe at the boy, both of him and his actions; you agreed with him immediately, smiles mirroring between the two of you.

"Alright, let me get dressed and I'll meet you guys there." Han and Changbin grinned before teleporting to the venue. You glanced at Chan, who was smiling from ear to ear.

"See you there, Love," he jumped backwards, snapping before he too teleported away. There it was again: 'Love.' You did not know what spawned the nickname, but you were loving it.

You hopped off of your bed, making your way over to the chest in the corner of your room; a few days ago, you had decided to move your mom's special treasures into your room for safe keeping. You carefully opened the chest and reached inside, brushing your hand over the concert tickets and other regalia she had taped to the inside of the box. In your hands, you took hold of a bedazzled vest; it was your mom's favorite to wear during her time in a band, she had explained to you.

You held it close to you, hugging it as you thanked the Heavens for this opportunity.

---

"Am I too late?" you rushed into the venue, quickly asking Flynn the question as she sighed.

"Too early," she corrected, motioning to where Carrie and the Dirty Candy girls had taken the stage.

"How did she get on the list?" you inquired, your face scrunched in disgust.

"Daddy probably made a call or two," Flynn reminded you. Dirty Candy took the stage, performing an upbeat pop song called, 'All Eyes on Me.'

"Hey, I like the vest!" Flynn complimented, running her hands over the rhinestones.

"Thanks," you replied. "It was my mom's favorite." You smiled softly as Flynn wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The guys had approached behind you, watching the performanc in a mix of astoundment and bore.

"Y'know, she really does not have the appeal," Chan whispered into your ear. "You can win a crowd over way faster, plus you have the beauty factor." Your eyes widened at the comment, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Chan was becoming increasingly bold, and your words got caught in your throat as he tossed more playful comments your way. You quickly clarified to Flynn that the boys were behind you, explaining your strange behavior. Chan took the opportunity to gently rub your shoulders, his hands briefly making contact before falling through, leaving you grinning at the fleeting sensation.

When you zoned back in to the performance, Han had somehow made his way on stage, performing the choreography with Dirty Candy. You started cackling uncontrollably, and Chan and Changbin did the same, once again making Flynn have to mentally remind herself that the guys were there.

Han appeared back down with you and the guys, claiming that he was 'just doing that for you guys.'

"Yeah, okay buddy, you can stop smiling now," Changbin patted him on the back.

"Not gonna lie, that was actually pretty good," you remarked about Carrie's performance.

"Yeah, I forgot why I hate her," Flynn replied.

"Hi girls! Isn't it past your bedtime?" A shrill voice sounded from behind you, making Chan wince and purse his lips, eliciting giggles from you.

"Now, I remember!" Flynn exclaimed as Carrie's harsh gazed turned to you.

"Felix didn't come, if that's what you're here for." Chan inaudibly scoffed at the girl, feeling more offended than you were, particularly at the thought that you were there for another guy besides him. He felt tempted to say something, even though he knew Carrie could not hear him, but you quickly took charge on that manner.

"Actually, that's not why I'm here." At that moment, the announcer called your band name, incorrectly saying, "Y/n and the Phat ones." You, Han, and Changbin looked intently at Chan.

"Seriously, Christopher?" Han scolded.

"Yeah, my handwriting sucks, dude."

You gave one final smirk towards Carrie before approaching the stage, sitting down at the piano and adjusting your microphone.

"It's actually y/n and the Phantoms," you corrected, earning some light laughter from the crowd before you began playing a chorus of piano notes. You beamed as you sang the first lyrics:

"Hearts on fire We're no liars So we say what we wanna say I'm awakened No more faking So we push all our fears away

Don't know if I'll make it 'cause I'm falling under Close my eyes, and feel my chest beating like thunder

I wanna fly Come alive Watch me shine"

As the pre-chorus built to a crescendo, the phantoms appeared, pouring their energy into the performance. You grabbed the tambourine that had been hanging on your microphone stand before the show and rhythmically tapped it against your thigh, adding to the intensity as the chorus echoed through the space.

"I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long, and now we're finally free!"

You could not quite pinpoint what it was, but you were not able to tear your focus away from Chan throughout the performance. His energy was infectious, radiating from him as he flashed cheeky smiles and playful winks in your direction, and you found yourself returning most of them with a grin. He only paused when he jumped onto the section of the stage where Han’s drumcase sat, joining him to jam out, the two of them feeding off each other's excitement.

"We're all bright now What a sight now Coming out like we're fireworks Marching on proud Turn it up loud 'Cause now we know what we're worth"

Chan hopped down from the upper level of the stage, perfectly joining you for the second pre-chorus, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. The smile on your face was wide and toothy, a radiant beam that sat perfectly between two rosy cheeks, your heart fluttering as the connection between you both grew stronger.

The second chorus flowed similarly to the first, with Han and Changbin complimenting the song with their backup vocals. Adrenaline and excitement flowed through the arena; you felt proud, happy, and exhilerant as you performed. You caught sight of Chan once more, turning to him as you sang the bridge.

"I got a spark in me(I got a spark in me)And you're a part of me(And you're a part of me)Now 'til eternity(Now 'til eternity)Been so long, and now we're finally free!"

The two of you alternated on the verses, Chan’s voice harmonizing perfectly with your own. As you sang, you found yourself gazing deeply into his eyes, the light in his gaze reflecting the same connection you were feeling.

In that moment, Chan finally understood what he was feeling. All these weeks, he had convinced himself that he simply cared about you as a friend, that you were special to him in a way that was different from the others. But now, as everything fell into place, he realized it was more—so much more.

He liked you. He was in love with you, even.

He took in every detail about you in that moment—your glowing gaze, the faint pink tint of your cheeks, and of course, your angelic vocals. He could not tear his eyes away from you, and it was impossible to miss the way his focus was entirely on you as you shared the mic. Changbin and Han exchanged knowing smiles, sensing the undeniable chemistry between the two of you as you stayed close, harmonizing through the final chorus.

You ended the song with a high note that transitioned into a falsetto; Chan watched you with pride swelling in his heart. In that moment, he could not help but feel as though you were his—his angelic-voiced, beautiful, talented girl that he never wanted to lose. He beamed brightly, his gaze locked on you even as the audience erupted in cheers. You glanced over at him, and a similar spark lit up your heart. Sure, Chan had frustrated you countless times over the past few weeks, but in that instant, none of that mattered.

That was a normal...whatever you guys had, right?

With one final bow, the phantoms vanished from the public's sight as the crowd burst into cheerful hoopla and gasps; the phantoms were not too far, just positioned right off the side of the stage.

"Thank you, we're y/n and the Phantoms! Tell your friends!" The way you enthusiastically ended on Changbin's catchphrase made the boy beam with pride, nodding his head in approval.

You ran over to Flynn, giggling and squealing over the performance.

"You were amazing!" she screeched as she engulfed you into a tight embrace.

"She's right!" Chan exclaimed as he, Han, and Changbin appeared behind you, sitting on a countertop. "And don't look too fast." Chan had motioned just behind you where Carrie had stopped a record executive; however, she quickly pushed passed the Dirty Candy girls and made her way over to you.

"Wait, who should do the talking?" Changbin inquired, earning glares from all three bandmates. "Oh. Right. Y/n. Duh!"

You glanced nervously at Chan, and he gave you a thumbs up in response, mouthing, "You got this!" The lady approached you, smiling warmly. She was dressed in a beige business suit; she held out her hand for you to shake, which you took gratefully.

"Hi! I'm Andi Parker of Destiny Management, and I would love to-"

"Y/n!"

A deep voice calling your name interrupted the conversation; you whipped around to see none other than...

"Dad?!"

"It's time to go home."

[thenightlymirror]

I think I only mentioned this to Patrick, and didn’t write it down. I listen to Otherworld all the time, and I guess it gets you into a certain mindset where you just spontaneously understand “Well of course you should never fuck with a Ouija board.” But… I don’t actually believe that, do I?

I, technically (I feel like I say this a lot these days), don’t believe in anything supernatural, period. In practice, in my daily life, I’m basically a mystic Quaker and amateur demonologist. I am constantly aware of angels entering the room, the thoughts of God, his dumb jokes, geomagnetic flows creating psychic channels. I just wave this all away as latent schizophrenia. I’m a radical anti-theist. Surely.

But, I’ve had some theories about a few things. One, my theory is that the Ouija board is a very effective method of giving yourself dissociative identity disorder. There are probably quite a few ways to break your own brain, but for some reason, distributing accountability to a few comrades while all having your hands on the planchette allows your ego to detach in such a way that it takes a little while to forget this new ability.

I felt this about the HEMI-sync meditation I did. I only did one, because it was so powerful. I know my blog is not as exciting as it was before I had a CPAP machine so I was dying in my sleep and having prophetic lucid nightmares every night. A guy needs to sleep, you know? And I need a certain amount of sanity to continue going to my god awful job because being homeless might be slightly worse than not having psychic powers. There’s just some sacrifices you have to make. (You sometimes hear people with profound psychic abilities say, “I realized I was here on earth for a reason, to experience what it was like to be a human for a while.”)

But after the meditation, all I would need is to hear some pink noise, and I would enter right into that state of unearthly calm and attention again. Thanks CIA! And it became clear to me, maybe I should chill on this. Come back to it when I’m a little more stable.

With the paranoid life, there are all these security measures people take to protect themselves from demons and fairies and jinn who might want to take advantage of them as they are, say, standing in a doorway too long in the office. Harper literally complains about this every day. And my thought was, as a pantheist, I don’t have these problems.

It would never occur to me that the world is secretly full of demons that want to take advantage of you, because in the background of my mind is the unconscious belief that there is only one consciousness that is shared by everything, and identities are just blockages and illusions.

It made me wonder if monotheism really was a huge leap towards reason by virtue of being just one god short of atheism. Close enough to elide superstitions that would make reason impossible to hear over the noise of every paranoid haunted thought. Which became two thoughts. One, pantheism as a necessary illusion to pacify your own mind. And two, that reality is a kind of metaphysical polytheism, a gesture like the one Badiou makes where God becomes impossible because there is never only one infinity. There is an infinity of infinities, and you just have to accept the chaos, the decentering of all minds into a clamor of demons with no true north.

When you can no longer make decisions of any import to affect your actual, material life, what difference does it make?

[creative-kny-fics]

Hi there! Since your blog didn't say whether you're a minor or not, I hope this isn't inappropriate since I'm a minor!

Anyways, may I request something? That is, if requests are open ofc!

I have been absolutely obsessed with lee!Obanai lately. Hell, I even went as far as roleplaying with AI bots because my obsession is starting to get out of hand 😭

Aaanyways, I had this cute little idea of Lee!Obanai and Ler!Kaburamaru!

So so, Kaburamaru loves tickling his owner to cheer him up, right? Well, when Kaburamaru tries once again to cheer Obanai up, Obanai has decided he's had enough. Without thinking he instinctively tickled the snake back. But realizing that Kaburamaru isn't even a tad ticklish, Obanai realizes the mistake he's made, too. And the fate he has bestowed upon himself. Kaburamaru knows what he was trying to do. And his white snake friend won't hold back now.

If requests aren't open, then I deeply apologize!

Ohhh don't worry! Your idea is great, it's that literally when someone tickles you your first reaction is revenge-. So it would make sense for Obanai to do the same! And of course, don't worry (I'm also obsessed with him ajhslagsksyssk)

Ler: Kaburamaru

Lee: Iguro Obanai

'Where did that snake go?', Iguro searched all over his estate, he couldn't find Kaburamaru. Sometimes they played hide and seek, but Iguro had already given up.

'Ok Kaburamaru, you win. I'm already tired and bored', there was no response, he waited for about 2 minutes but his snake did not appear. Sigh.

'Kaburamaru, I already told you that you won. Get out once and for all', again there was no answer, Iguro then sat on the floor, waiting for his friend to come back soon

'Kaburamaru...Aren't you going to show up? Hey? Kaburamaru, is that you?', a noise caught his attention, it was probably him trying to scare him. 'Come here Kaburamaru', nothing, there was no response.

'Kaburama- MHM!!', a tingling in the back of his neck alerted him, Kaburamaru was there. 'Kaburamaru, I know what you're planning to do and I don't like it', meh, he won't understand you Iguro, he's just a snake and he just slides And well,

Kaburamaru continued to wave his tail behind his owner's neck.

'Kaburamaru! No! Mmmm!', perhaps Obanai's neck was not so sensitive, but enough to make him smile at least a little.

'Enough!', he took Kaburamaru and what did he do? What anyone would do after being tickled, return the favor.

Only after a few seconds did Iguro realize what an idiot he looked trying to tickle his snake.

'What the hell am I doing?! Agh! How pathetic! You planned this, didn't you?!', Iguro, don't yell at Kaburamaru, it doesn't suit you

Iguro placed his snake close to him, trying to stay calm in the face of that situation, which for Iguro, was the most idiotic thing that ever occurred to him.

'How come I thought that?! I mean, you're not even ticklish! No, but it's worse than a snake tickling me! Has no sense! It doesn't have- MMMMM!!! No! Kaburamaru! Sorry! Please no!'

I told you what was wrong with you, while you were throwing your tantrum, Kaburamaru slipped into your uniform and as I type he is getting closer to his target

'Kaburamaru! I'm sorry! You-! MHMHMHMH!!', Iguro, just do it, it's not like it's the first time Kaburamaru has heard you laugh. 'I-I refuse!', well, Kaburamaru has no choice.

'GAAAH! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!! KABURAMARU!! PLEASE!!', he brought both hands to his stomach as he kicked into the air, and yep, Iguro throws a tantrum when tickled.

'STAHAHAHAP!! SOHOHORRY!! SORRY!!!', there are many things you will have to apologize to Kaburamaru for, first you finished the game, then you tried to tickle him and yelled at him. If Kaburamaru spoke, I'm sure you'd be doomed

'KABUHUHURAMAHAHAHARU!! PLEHEHEASE!! YOHOHOU KNOHOHOW HOW BAHAHAD IS IT!! NOHOHOHO!! MEHEHERCY!! ALHDLAHSKSJSLSJAKSJ!!', oh, poor thing, he can't talk anymore, I think Iguro is too ticklish for his own good

For almost 3 minutes, Iguro was unable to utter a coherent word. Only pure laughter came out of his mouth and some prayers to his pet, imploring him to stop

'*gasp* STA-STAHAHA-STAHAP!! *hip* KAHAHABU!! *snort* NOT MOHOHORE!! *squeak* I GIHIHIVE!!', well I guess he's had enough, sorry Kaburamaru, but if you want to continue tickling your owner, you'll have to stop and give him a rest

Anyway, Kaburamaru stopped and Iguro fell to the floor almost fainted, I guess the bandages didn't help him breathe at all.

'Dahahamn snahahake... WAHAHAHIT!! NO AGHAHAIN!! SOHOHORRYHYHY!!', you better stop threatening and badmouthing Kaburamaru, he's still in your uniform

[aswrm]

Norman Brannon’s essay from Negatives by Amy Fleisher Madden

Text below

By the time I moved back to New York after a three-year stint in Oakland in 2004, the gap between what we now call second and third wave emo had become truly pronounced. Texas Is the Reason -the band whose name will be seemingly affixed to mine forever-had only disbanded seven years earlier, but it was already clear that a curious mystique around who we were had developed in the interim.

The reason for this is obvious now: Our entire two-and-a-half-year existence completely predated the social internet. Which is to say that if you wanted to be a Texas Is the Reason fan in 2004, your primary source of research wasn't going to be Google, YouTube, or Wikipedia. It was going to be the physical records we released, whatever blurry (and often black-and-white) band photos we used for album artwork or press, the few dozen interviews we did for out-of-print fanzines, or maybe, if you were lucky, a fuzzy VHS concert tape transferred to DVD.

We had no choice but to be "enigmatic."

Of course, we, as humans, almost instinctively hate ambiguity. And our steadfast refusal to live with ambiguity, to truly accept it, more often than not compels us to fill in the blanks, to make up our own stories, to draw our own pictures. Some of these pictures may be "true enough." But many of the ideas we generate in the pursuit and creation of "knowing" often contain significant details that derive from the shared assumptions of a frequently centered majority. They reflect our stubborn insistence that the things we feel most connected with somehow must resemble a dominant, and there-fore, familiar image.

So I bring up 2004 because of the time I met a younger Texas Is the Reason fan through some mutual friends during that cross-country move, And I bring up the "mystique around who we were" because that random introduction actually marked the first time l'd ever considered that younger fans

of the band during that time might have no idea what we looked like. And I mention "the shared assumptions of a frequently centered majority" because a few days after that meeting, I was directed to this younger fan's Live Journal, Where, after writing up an otherwise pleasant recap of our lunch, the young man concluded, apropos of literally nothing: "I never knew Norm wasn't Caucasian.

It was kind of a shock."

"Quick-close your eyes and tell me about the first person you see when you imagine a 'punk.'

Are they Black? Queer? Female?

Gender-nonconforming?"

Before you judge, quick-close your eyes and tell me about the first person you see when you imagine a "punk." Are they Black? Queer? Female?

Gender-nonconforming? Or are they white, male, and cisgender? Don't feel bad. We all know how this exercise typically ends.

Which is why I can truly say I was not at all mad when I read my new friend's LiveJournal entry.

If anything, those two sentences, which had been composed with such matter-of-fact clarity, were something of an awakening to me. They showed me how seemingly innocuous (and yet ever-insidious) our assumptions of whiteness can be. Despite having played in hardcore bands for over ten years by that point, I was really only just beginning to wres tle with my life as a musician who is also a queer person of color, struggling to define myself outside of whiteness. And maybe for the first time, it occurred to me that in my misguided need to fulfill the more socially noble role of being "a musician who just happens to be gay and Latino"-as opposed to being a proud gay and Latino musician-/ was actively playing a part in my own erasure. Without knowing it, my new friend had simply highlighted a fact about the way in which unchecked assumptions often go on to become indelible parts of our cultural memory-and how that same cultural memory, once established, is then paradoxically deployed as "proof" for those earlier unchecked assumptions. How else could my brown skin be

"a shock" to anyone if not for a completely whitewashed conception of what emo (or hardcore, for that matter) looks like? Knowing this has changed literally everything about the way I navigate my identity in the public sphere.

But that was then and this is now, right? Surely the modern power of Google has eased our ambiguity blues!

"And if you believe most of the documented histories that trace emo's origins back to 1985, when the punk scene in Washington, DC, declared a 'Revolution Summer,' then why don't we ever talk about Amy Pickering from Fire Party?"

I want to tell you that so much has changed, and if it weren't for a Buzzfeed headline from June of

2020-published a full sixteen years after that Live Journal entry-maybe I could. Because when I read "Pete Wentz Is Trending on Twitter Because Many People Are Just Finding Out He's Biracial," my past suddenly became prologue.

It was kind of a shock.

Whatever rationale I used to dismiss the general lack of knowledge about Texas Is the Reason in 2004 simply did not apply to Fall Out Boy in 2020.

By then, we had already lived with fifteen years of Pete Wentz's face being plastered all over print and digital media. His band had been packing arenas and stadiums all over the world. Their music videos were ever-reliable multimillion streamers for YouTube. In fact, Fall Out Boy's undying success is perhaps one of the reasons why a book like the one you are holding is able to exist. And yet our assumptions of whiteness are still so embedded in the cultural psyche that, when it came to Wentz's experience as a biracial man, we saw people actu ally refusing to believe their own eyes and ears.

The idea of punk and emo as a white-dominant space had become so entrenched in our imaginations that a simple confirmation of one man's Blackness was enough to send Twitter into a frenzy.

I get it, Pete.

That's why, when I was asked to write something for this book, I knew almost right away that I would have to make a point about emo that most visual histories documenting this scene-and the wider punk and hardcore communities that came before it-have failed to properly capture from a collection of images alone. Because while a majority of the most popular and recognizable voices in emo and post-hardcore do in fact belong to straight, cis-gender, white men, there is and always has been a plurality of invaluable contributions to this scene from women, BIPOC, and LGBTQ+ folks. And far too often, many of these sometimes groundbreaking pioneers have been unfairly sidelined, if not redacted from the historical record.

When it comes to emo's origin story, for example, there are valid questions we need to be asking.

For one thing, could emo have even been called into existence without the arrival of Zen Arcade by Hüsker Du - the 80s melodic punk trio whose Bob Mould and Grant Hart are both queer men? And if you believe most of the documented histories that trace emo's origins back to 1985, when the punk scene in Washington, DC, declared a "Revolution Summer," then why don't we ever talk about Amy Pickering from Fire Party, the woman who literally coined that phrase and, by all accounts, worked tirelessly to galvanize that summer into being? Also, why do we seem to gloss over the fact that the entire first wave of emo that came forth from Revolution Summer was decidedly multiracial? Its extremely influential ranks included Fire Party's Nicky Thomas, Kenny Inouye from Marginal Man, Scream's Skeeter Thompson, and Shawn Brown of Dag Nasty (and later, Swiz), to name a few.

Of course, the work did not end there. Emo's second and third waves, which make up the substance of the book you are holding - and whose alumni include both Pete Wentz and myself-continued to give rise to an abundance of female, BIPOC, and LGBTO+ talent. Queer and trans musicians like Jason Gnewikow of The Promise Ring, Kaia Fischer of Rainer Maria, Steve Pedulla of Thursday, Vanessa Downing of Junction and Samuel, Pete Moffett of Burning Airlines, and the late Sarah Kirsch of Fuel and Torches to Rome have all played significant roles in defining the genre. BIPOC artists- including the majority of At the Drive-In, Victor Villarreal from Cap'n Jazz, Teppei Teranishi of Thrice, Jeremy

Gomez of Mineral, The Van Pelt's Toko Yasuda, Coheed and Cambria's Claudio Sanchez, Taking Back Sunday's Eddie Reyes, and Longineu "LP" Parsons III from Yellowcard, among others- have all stitched a diverse range of experience into the fabric of what eventually became emo's breakthrough into the mainstream. And the singular contributions from so many women of these eras simply cannot be overlooked - including celebrated artists like Caithlin De Marrais from Rainer Maria, Kim Coletta from Jawbox, Elizabeth Elmore of Sarge, Jejune's Araby Harrison, Tracy Wilson of Dahlia Seed, Pohgoh's Susie Richardson, Hayley Williams of Paramore, The Anniversary's Adrianne Verhoeven, and Shift's Samantha Maloney (who actually went on to play drums for both Hole and Mötley Crüe).

I am not even scratching the surface here.

No one book can do everything. But in using this space to share my story here-and in turn, telling our story to the best extent that my time and memory will allow-I hope not so much to "correct" the public record as I do to make sure that the existing record is more vivid, more rich, more complete, and ultimately, more true. Every time emo is reduced to the trope of "the sad white boy crying over a girl," countless scores of us are not only pushed to the margins, but quite literally pushed off the page.

To write these words here and now is to make sure those assumptions no longer go unchecked. It is to say, We are here. We have always been here. We will always be here.

[isekai-crow]

Doctor Elise Ep. 5

| Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3-4 |

Nuuuuuu I'm finally caught up with Doctor Elise.... My potato chips....

This was a very fun (Mary Sue (positive)) Girl Boss episode, with Elise taking proud ownership of what she did despite being disbelieved, and keeping things professional between her and her patient.

This Prince y'all. He don't know shit about romance. He's never had the inclination to even bother with romance before, and watching his little baby-deer-leg-like attempts is very very cute. It's very fun to be watching this and the BL/yaoi Cherry Magic at the same time because man they are two sides of the same coin in playing with tropes and dealing with power imbalance in romance.

THIS show could be a yaoi if it WASN'T A COWARD.

I am enjoying this show SO MUCH because I (am old) enjoyed watching Dr. House, Scrubs, Grey's Anatomy, and the autopsy/sciencey bits in CSI:LV and NCIS (with Abby!)

Capybara is enjoying this because he is a connoisseur of well researched fanfiction, with Sick Fic being one of his main staples. He has learned to recognize certain illnesses because some of his favorite authors do a shit ton of research on what to do to their whumpees darlings, and those well researched stories don't go with boring reasons for why certain symptoms are appearing, but more realistic diagnostics.

He was very excited at guessing what was wrong with each patient in these episode and it was fun to watch him get excited about it.

Spoilers Under the Cut

Elise defending and explaining her report about the Splenectomy was funny because... her hand writing was such an issue, but despite all the little hearts and the poor writing that is OBVIOUSLY not Dr. Graham, they still have trouble believing it's hers until she can walk them through the report.

MORE HAND WAVING WITH THE "I turned this surgery over and over in my head" (more like she already did a successful one with the Dead Mom Hair lady) Its just barely believable, but it marks her as a literal genius, and actually makes for a good story if she WAS an actual medical genius.

HMM I WONDER WHY THE TEST IS GOING TO BE HARDER THIS YEAR??? Fuck all the other students, we wanna make this lady fail so she can be queen! But she has 3 doctor reccs to be able to take the medical exam!

And another doctor immediately tries to steal her with NO consideration for the Head of the Hospital and Head of Surgery being RIGHT THERE IN THE ROOM WITH THEM. No subtly this man, which makes sense if he CANT EVEN RECOGNIZE ONE OF HIS REGULAR PATIENTS!!!! FAILURE.

This No-Thoughts-Head-Empty Just Having A Good Time face is so funny to me.

Then we get some more reminiscent of the backstory, and I'm okay with this being a little Mary Sue -ish type tragic backstory cause she kinda deserved it, admits she deserved it, and is trying to make amends (because she wasn't THAT evil of a villainess, just an ignorant and spoiled rich kid).

But the Prince finally admitted something was wrong with himself and goes to the clinic to get himself checked out by Elise/Rose while he is in his Ron disguise. He finds her pulling ivy off the buildings, and MAN the initial angle on this made it look like she was two stories up (so I started chanting fall, fall, fall so that you can get caught).

but no, she's on a fucking step stool lmao.

We DO get a classic "Staring at each other from across the way as the wind blows and their eyes meet and they have Thoughts."

She then proceeds to diagnose him and Capybara started chanting "Hyper thyroidism? Hyperthyroidism." as each symptom and question is answered

and dammit he was RIGHT!!!

AND OH. I WAS WRONG. YES. GOOD.

THIS SHOW IS A YAOI AND ELISE IS THE SEME.

LOOK AT THIS BLUSHING MESS OF AN UKE. She's taking your PULSE, sir, not your CLOTHES OFF.

And he keeps coming back for more lmao. And is SO UPSET when the two months are up. But is probably like HELL YES I GET TO MARRY THIS LADY. maybe. the thought probably hasn't occured to him actually now that I think about it...

Until he goes to her BROTHER for advice on what to get her, and despite being the grumpy big bro IS SO ACCURATE IN HIS ADVICE. But the Prince thinks he knows best (with ZERO experience, like, what did you even ask him for then?) and gets her a shiny thing instead and fails.

It's all worth it though cause Babygirlboy prince smiles in the end!

R E W A R D GET

I want more potato chips. Please let next week come soon so I can have more potato chips anime. Please.