#4.6k which i think is a new record

[incognit0slut]

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out. 

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.” 

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that. 

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems. 

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you. 

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly. 

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance. 

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

-

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time. 

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet. 

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met. 

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.” 

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt. 

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be. 

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel. 

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks. 

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process. 

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.” 

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

-

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?” 

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by. 

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts. 

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you. 

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here. 

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[agentcalypso]

my (mostly) coherent thoughts on the wisdom saga

written during first listen/the livestream this time bc i have shit to do tmrw so forgive me if i miss some stuff (will prob do a part 2 once i have a spare hour or so)

(also spoilers)

𓅓 LEGENDARY 𓅓

first off there were over 100k ppl in the livestream by the time the saga started which i think is a record so good job winions

MICO's voice fits telemachus SO well its not even funny

and like he also has a bit of jorge's voice in him and it's just. augh /pos

the L-L-L-L-Legendary :D

ok but you can hear his voice get just the tiniest bit softer when he starts talking abt the suitors/penelope

ARGOS :DDDDDDDD

MAN OF THE HOUSE

also the animatics are SO GOOD

ANTINOUS YOU BITCH /POS

"WHAT YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT CHAMP?" LMAOOO

12/10

𓅓 LITTLE WOLF 𓅓

THE ART??? HELLO??????

i hate antinous /pos

but also his voice is sooooooooooo good

this. this is just street fighter (/pos)

ATHENA WITH THE QUICK THOUGHT

"Whoa, this is so sick!" i love him <3

god teagan sounds sooooooooo good

i did not expect him to lose but it makes sense so im not complaining

10/10

𓅓 WE'LL BE FINE 𓅓

athena looks so pretty in the art omg

athena opening up? holy shit

"my time with you's been splendid, the best day of my life" telemachus you got beatne to a pulp are you okay

i like the new lyrics for telemachus' part better tbh

TELEMACHUS FALLING THROUGH HER LMAO

9/10

𓅓 LOVE IN PARADISE 𓅓

THE TIME DIIIIIIIIIVE

gigi hitting HARD with the animatics again

CALYPSO'S FACE WHEN HE TALKS ABT PENELOPE LMAO

also calypso's animation is so flowy i love it

"last i checked goddesses can't die ^_^"

it was at this point the livestream died for "policy violations" i think youtube just hates us

pov: you are in the epic the musical discord at 11:44 p.m. EST

THE OG STREAM WENT FROM 110K TO 4.6K IN LIKE THREE MINUTES LMAO

i came into the new stream to jorge cackling like mad and i think that sums up the general energy of my reaction to this whole saga pretty well

the glowy effects on her are so cooooool

damn poor ody :(

fuck you jorge /pos

"i have to see her" vs. "he needs my help" pick you poison

10/10 -1 point for youtube being a little shit /neg

𓅓 GOD GAMES 𓅓

luke. just luke

wolfy animatic :D

the harp strings are so fun

love hephaestus' animation omg

also hephaestus being voiced by jorge's dad is so cool :D

aphrodite. that's it that's the post <3

i still maintain that you can do the camp rock march to ares' part idc

ATHENA DANCING LMAO

BEAST MODE ZEUS HOLY S H I T THE GROWL

"is she dead?!" i love him but yea there's a reason ares isn't the smart war god

THE FLASHBACK??????? HELLO???????? I WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR THE NEXT FIVE YEARS

OH SHIT ARES WAS RIGHT

12/10

in conclusion idk what kind of crack got put in this saga specifically but consider me hooked

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly 6. Views from the Outside

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: Mention of French people, angst, fake relationships,

A/N: Hello! Once again, thank you to everyone who interacted with this in any way! I love to hear feedback and see that you're enjoying the work! Another thing: My goal with this story is that it's told over the span of 4 individual works, with "This Could Get Ugly" being the first one. What this means is that there's going to be a LOT of juicy drama to enjoy but I will be taking my time getting to it. It's been super important to me that I tell the story right and at my own pace so while it may seem like the romance is tilting to one guy over another--just know, that that's all part of the plan! My pet peeve when reading love triangle type of stuff is when you can immediately tell which love interest is the end game so my goal for this is to be as even as possible, offering romance for both Steve and Eddie (In my mind, this is less of a love triangle and more of a love different people at different points in time type of thing). Anyway, what a long note! Please enjoy the chapter!

wc: 4.6k

MASTERLIST🎸

Previous Chapter 🎹

Subrosa Article

***

JONATHAN:  I never wanted to be famous, I just wanted to play music and make enough money to support my family. I could do all of that and more with The Downsides.

I felt like the luckiest guy in the world then. We were finally starting to see some stability as a band and even though things weren’t exactly as we expected, things were good. I mean we were making music we loved with people we liked—back when we all still liked each other.

***

October 1983—Los Angeles, California

As the studio had predicted, the band’s single was a total hit, as were you and Steve in the press. The gamble Starcourt was starting to pay off.

Everyone was more relieved than happy about that news.

What followed was a few grueling weeks of rerecording the band’s nearly completed album while also strategically traipsing arm-in-arm with Steve around every romantic spot in Hollywood trying to bait the paparazzi.

Things had finally slowed down a bit since the album was in post-production, but Starcourt still had you on a tight schedule. You had transitioned into rehearsing for the band’s upcoming tour. That’s how certain Startcourt was that the Downsides were going to be a success—you were rehearsing for a tour that hadn’t even been announced yet for an album that hadn’t even been released.

You try not to think about what it would mean if the band didn’t meet the label’s expectations. Instead, you focus on figuring out how to adapt to the band you’re now a part of.

The obvious lack of familiarity between all of you was not as pronounced when you were re-recording in the studio, now that you’re all rehearsing together, it is impossible to ignore. The original members of the band share a bond that keeps them incredibly in sync, oftentimes leaving you and Eddie struggling both on and off the stage. You’ve been working to adapt though, and you’ve made progress, sometimes you’re even close to feeling like the band has accepted you as one of their own. But then something will happen that will leave you feeling like an outsider once more.

***

The last thing a hungover you needs to see at seven in the morning is a Subrosa article questioning your moral character and calling you a man-eater. The universe—in the form of one Nancy Wheeler—has a different idea.

“Have you seen this?” the keyboardist asks, indignation coloring her tone, as she slings the offending publication across your lap.

You hadn’t seen it, in fact, but one look at the grainy picture of you and Steve and you can assume what the article says.

You sigh tiredly in response, “Honestly Nancy, you shouldn’t pay attention to this shit. I don’t know why you let it bother you so much.”

“It’s just so unfair that they’re singing Steve’s praises and are still dragging you through the mud, even though you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Exactly, there’s no winning with them, not for me. So why don’t we just say fuck them and do whatever we want?” You find it in yourself to waggle your eyebrows playfully at her earning a giggle from the otherwise serious girl.

You catch Eddie watching your exchange from across the large warehouse that is serving as the band’s rehearsal space with a curious amount of interest.

The two of you have barely spoken since your row outside of Starcourt. It’s not like you’re missing out on much though, since Eddie barely interacts with the band beyond rehearsal which makes his apparent engagement with your conversation unusual. Eddie, realizing he’s been caught staring, opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted by a very late Steve and Robin.

“Hey, have you seen the latest issue of Subrosa?” Steve asks, harried and out of breath.

You try not to think about the fact that this is the third time this week that the two of them have shown up together and late.

“Yes, we were just talking about it, which you would’ve known if the two of you were on time for once,” Nancy jabs back with no real heat, just the annoyance of an older sister chastising her siblings.

“Hey, don’t blame me, Robin wanted to—” he stops short as soon as his eyes land on you and coughs awkwardly.

“I wanted to stop by the post office,” Robin rushes to say. “It’s Bastille Day and I needed to send a card to my French pen pal, Celine in honor of the occasion.”

“Isn’t Bastille Day in July?” You ask Robin.

She flushes scarlet. “Right, exactly, that’s why this is so important, my card was already like three months late. You know how French people are about punctuality.”

She then exchanges a meaningful glance with Steve and Nancy who seem to be having their own sort of conversation consisting solely of glances and eyebrow movement.

“Fine, whatever,” Nancy exhales after a few terse moments of silent communication, “let’s just start please.”

She stands and the others follow suit. You, however, remain sat, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

Steve, sensing you hadn’t moved, turns to throw you an apologetic look over his shoulder before beaconing gently with a nod of his head. You sigh but join him, nonetheless.

This happens a lot.

***

JONATHAN: When the whole staged relationship thing first started, I don’t think any of us had any idea what that meant.  I mean, sure, it started out as the gimmick that got us through the door but it soon became something bigger than that. Their relationship was synonymous with the band and it's success and I'm sure that resulted in a lot of pressure. 

I think for the two of them, though, the most difficult part was trying to keep things professional, especially when other people began to get involved.

***

None of the personal dynamics mattered when you were all playing together.

What you loved most about your bandmates was that they cared about the music just as much as you did. That had become clear from the very first rehearsal and even now, nearly a month in, you’re still in awe watching them all perform alongside you.

 Prim, soft-spoken Nancy turned into a wild thing on the keyboard, her whole body moving with the music, fingers flying over the keys like it was nothing. Ever the perfectionist, she would never miss a note, and on the off chance that she did, curse words you had never heard before streamed out of her mouth, causing your eyes to go wide every time.

Jonathan, too, became something else: full of bravado and fire, hair swinging wildly and even jumping around on stage. His playing had a smoothness to it, he knew when to show restraint and let someone else shine and when to bring it himself.

Argyle and Robin were the biggest transformations, though. Gone was goofy and easy-going Argyle the person and all that was left behind was the laser-focused drummer, who seemed to move on instinct to create a strong musical foundation for the rest of you. Robin, who normally was a bit erratic and all over the place, became the self-assured, quick-thinking driving force behind the band. It was like she knew exactly how the song needed to sound and what each person needed to bring to get there. She was the first to let anyone know there was something amiss and no one took it the wrong way because she was rarely wrong.

Steve and Eddie were exactly what you had expected, however, what you did not expect was how alike they would be. They both moved gracefully and with careless precision. Showmen in equal measures.

Once you had familiarized yourself with your bandmates, figuring out how you fit into the band’s onstage dynamic was easy.

Off-stage was a whole different story.

***

JONATHAN: I mean, yeah, I think it was natural that there was a bit of a divide in those early days between the ‘original’ band and our two new members. It’s not for lack of trying though, it’s just, well the five of us lived in a house together and had known each other for years, it was probably kinda intimidating trying to jump into that dynamic. I also got the feeling that the other two weren’t really used to having friends. They both seemed to have their guards up in their own way.

With her you could tell she was holding back, almost like she was afraid of doing the wrong thing and well, with Eddie… you know how he is.

I think it was that feeling of sort of being on the outside that first drew them together, honestly.

***

Your eyes scan over the small craft services area that makes up part of your rehearsal space. Most of the band starts at one table, chatting amiably over lunch. Before you can even take a step in their direction, though, your eyes zero in on Steve and Robin, whose heads are bent, close together, whispering to one another intimately and you falter.

As much as you enjoyed Robin and Steve individually, watching them interact with one another often stoked an aching loneliness in you that you struggled to put out and the more time you spent with them only made it worse. After six weeks, you were worn thin.

Deciding that you’d rather not foster any unearned feelings, you turn to the only other table where Eddie is sitting alone bent over a thick paperback.

Trying to play it as cool as you can, you reach inside your bag to pull out your own book, and casually sit down across from the long-haired boy.

He stares you down. You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Didn’t know you could read,” he says casually.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you,” you shoot back with no real bite.

He chuckles to himself, seemingly impressed before gesturing to your book. 

“Didn’t peg you for a Baldwin type either,” Eddie says, eyes scanning the cover of your book.

You shrug, noncommittally, “I found a copy Beal Street sitting with a bunch of junk on my neighbor’s curb and I’ve been a fan since.”

He barks out a laugh so loud it catches everyone’s attention.

Conversation halts and you feel your bandmates’ curious gazes fall on you all at once.

“Forgive me, princess, but I have a hard time imagining you digging through other people's trash for books from what I know of you.”

“And what do you know about me, Eddie? I mean, other than the stuff Subrosa prints.”

His face falls in response.

The two of you spend the rest of your lunch in silence, pretending not to notice the way everyone else is staring.

***

JONATHAN: They ate lunch together every day after that, barely talking, reading their books.  I don’t think they were friends or anything, but I did see them exchange books a few times.

It did stress Nancy out, I think, the divide. It made her think we weren’t doing enough to be “welcoming” to them. Argyle and I didn’t really care, and Robin was dealing with her on shit at the time.

***

ROBIN : Yeah, I was seeing this girl, and I was trying to keep it under wraps from well… everyone actually. Steve was a really great friend though; he would always give me rides to and from her place when I needed them.

***

JONATHAN: ...a nd Steve liked to pretend that he didn’t care but he definitely did.

ROBIN: Of course, Steve cared, are you kidding?

NANCY: We could tell it bothered him.

STEVE : Did I care that she was eating lunch with Munson and kept avoiding me outside of rehearsal? No! Of course not.

***

November 1983, Los Angeles, California

The Downsides’ debut album was released on November 6, 1983, to commercial and critical success.

People immediately took to the upbeat synth sound paired with the introspective and clever lyrics. On top of that, you and Steve were, quite literally the talk of the town.

There were entire articles in gossip magazines dedicated to parsing out details of your relationship from the song lyrics on the album and coming up with theories about what the lyrics were about.

And all of that just from a few pictures of you two holding hands. Starcourt was ecstatic, they had bottled magic.

As much as everyone wanted to celebrate, you weren’t out of the woods yet, there were still the press junkets.

A growing list of TV and radio appearances that the band was required to be at plagued Hopper who was tasked with making sure you were all present and willing at these appearances. And of course, that you didn’t make fools of yourselves or Starcourt.

The label had taken it upon itself to send everyone PR briefings—essentially a long list of things no one should say under any circumstances during interviews.

Normally, you would think a list like this was overkill but knowing some of your bandmates, it was definitely needed.

All the eyes (and the pressure) would be on you and Steve, though, everyone knew that. You two were the ‘It Couple’ everyone wanted to hear from, and you weren’t quite sure what you were going to say.

The pap photos were easy: it was just walking around or sometimes getting lunch, holding hands, and looking like you were enjoying each other’s company. Something that wasn’t difficult since conversation flowed easily between the two of you.  At first, you would talk music—Steve was incredibly dedicated and knowledgeable, you quickly found out—but eventually, the two of you had branched into other topics. You learned about Steve’s life growing up in Indiana, about all his likes and dislikes, and everything about the band. He managed to pull the same information from you and you let him.

Even the physical stuff was easy, with time. In the beginning, it was an experiment of firsts. While you were pretty well-versed in the practice of feigned affection, you were used to the guy always making the first (fake) move. Most of the guys you had been "set up" with were the "act first, ask permission later" type. Steve was polite and considerate to a fault, and it took you two full dates to convince him that he didn't have to ask before holding your hand and an entire week more to work up to the kiss on the cheek. After those conversations though, touching Steve, in one way or another, had become second nature.

So much so, in fact, that it had begun to bleed into your everyday lives. It was not unusual during the time of your re-recording, to be at the studio and have Steve come up from behind you to rest his hand in the gentle dip of your waist only for you to lean back as you inhaled that scent that was uniquely him: smokey sandalwood and hair pomade.

Right around the time rehearsal started you realized that perhaps the two of you were becoming too comfortable with that type of affection, especially given how much time he spent with Robin, and you had begun to keep a subtle distance between the two of you whenever you weren’t on stage.

Steve while intelligent in his own right, had never struck you as the kind of person to pick up on subtleties, so when he brings up this distance you realize that either you severely underestimated his abilities, or you were not as subtle as you thought you’d been.

It’s a few days before the first stop of the Press Tour—An early morning slot with Wake Up, USA! —that has the two of you sitting on your couch when he brings it up. You had invited Steve over to practice answering any possible questions you may have to field together and make sure you’re on the same page.

As it turns out though, outside of music, Steve is not much for rehearsing.

“Can’t we just wing it?” Steve asks as he lies sprawled on your couch.

You huff in response, “No, we can’t just wing it. This is a big deal! This is our first time out as a couple, and we have to be believable.”

Steve scoffs at this and you raise an annoyed eyebrow in response.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs in response, “it’s just hard to act like a couple when you’ve been avoiding me for, like, the past month.”

He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry when he says this, just matter-of-fact. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you sputter out, weakly.

It’s his turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow at you.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Last time I checked you and Eddie weren’t the best of friends, but you’d rather eat lunch with him than the rest of us. You know, if you didn’t like us, you didn’t have to agree to be in the band, we would’ve understood,” he deflates as he says this last sentence and it crumples your heart just a bit.

 “I like you guys,” you say quietly, nudging his leg with your knee as you do.

“Then, is it me?” He asks, voice small and eyes low.

“No, no, it’s not you, Steve,” you rush to say.

“It’s just, I’ve never really been any good at this,” you mumble, shy under his gaze.

“Good at what?” He urges gently.

“At being friends with people.”

You continue, words clunky and difficult to get out, “At being friends with someone I’m also pretending to date.

“I mean, with the rest of the guys Starcourt set me up with, I only had to tolerate them for a few weeks, at most. With us, well who knows right? Plus, I actually like you,” you wince at this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from yourself, “I like all of you and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or cross any boundaries and hurt anyone’s feelings.”

He chuckles at this, “Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings by spending time with me.”

You shake your head, “It’s not you I’m worried about, Steve. There are other people.”

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion, “I’m not following.”

You are not sure what to say, now. You don’t want to call Steve and Robin out, it’s clear that they’ve been trying to keep what they have going on a secret, and you don’t want to call attention to that. You’re also afraid that if you mention him and Robin, you’ll eventually have to explain how when you see them together, your chest gets painfully tight. Pivot, you demand of yourself.

“What I mean to say is, it’s easier for me to keep everything professional when I have a little more space because I’m not really used to this friend thing. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t like you or the band. I like you all a lot, actually and I guess I’m just worried about messing that up.”

You can feel yourself retract into yourself the more you speak and by the end, your knees are tucked under your chin. You can’t bring yourself to meet Steve’s gaze.

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the warmth of his palm spread over the expanse of your back.

“Listen, I think… if this is gonna work, we have to be on each other’s team and part of that is talking to one another, right?  And letting each other know when we're having a hard time. I want to be on your team, will you let me?” His voice swells as he asks, and you are so aware of his warmth next to you.

“Yeah,” you nod, finally meeting his eyes, “ I want to be on your team too if you’ll let me?”

He nods enthusiastically, smiling so brightly you question if the sun has ever been as bright.

“Great, now can we please practice some of these questions?” You demand, playfully. 

“Or, or, and hear me out, we could go get burgers," he offers back.

You end up doing both.

***

November 13, 1983, Sunset Studios, Los Angeles, California

Call time for Wake Up, USA! was insanely early and you don’t think you’ve ever seen an angrier Hopper than one that has to be dealing with Eddie Munson at 5 AM. Eddie is decidedly, not a morning person.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” You deadpan to the disgruntled guitarist from your makeup chair next to his. You were not fairing much better: not only were you running on little sleep, but you were also wound tightly with nerves about your first live interview as a band and as a couple.

“Can it, Your Majesty, or we might have a case of regicide on our hands,” he warns with no real heat behind his words.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be throwing big words like that around, Munson?” Steve asks, from his spot on your other side.

“Don’t even know what that means,” he mutters, mostly to you.

“It means the murder of a king or queen,” you respond automatically.

“Doesn’t have to be just one, either. You could always kill more than one monarch at a time,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve as he says this, making his implications very obvious.

“Wow, look at us,” Steve exclaims, grinning, “already making veiled threats at each other. We’ve finally made it, honey.”

He says this last part exclusively to you punctuating it by reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze and you laugh.

The lightness of the exchange distracts you from your nerves for a moment. And from the way Eddie’s eyes linger on your hand interlaced with Steve’s.

Your brief reprieve is interrupted by the soft thud of a heavy object landing in your lap.

“What’s this?” You hold up a beat-up paperback to the culprit.

Eddie shrugs, “The Two Towers, Dustin finally got it back to me, took his sweet time too, that little asshole.”

You nod. He had lent you the first Lord of the Rings book weeks ago, while you were still in rehearsal after you had shown up bookless one day and you had devoured the book. You had been needling him for the second one since, but he had lent it to the audio engineer’s son, a kid named Dustin who idolized him and Steve in equal measure.

“Thanks,” you say, surprise coloring your voice, thumbing through the pages, eyes hungrily scanning the pages.

***

EDDIE:  I dunno, she seemed nervous.  I thought if she had something to distract her, it might’ve helped.

***

You get through the first chapter of your new book before they pull you into wardrobe.

They outfit you in a light blue dress, with exaggerated sleeves and a belt around your middle to compliment Steve’s dark blue blazer and stripped t-shirt combo.

 You feel your nerves mounting as you are helped into your heels and given your mic pack. Suddenly, everything that is riding on this is suffocating you from all ends—a visceral crushing pain that you can’t shake.

Steve appears at your side and the band had been escorted onto the soundstage your hand has been tightly wrapped around his like a vice the entire time.

“Can you, uh, loosen your grip a bit, please,” Steve asks, finally.

“Right, sorry,” you say, letting go of his hand completely and instead focusing your nervous energy on straightening his lapels.

After the third time you’ve readjusted his collar, Steve grabs both of your hands in his, and pulls you close, giving you no choice but to focus on his face.

“Hey,” he says in a hushed tone, just for you, “you don’t need to worry, okay? We’ve got this. I’m on your team, remember?”

You swallow thickly, and nod, before adding, “And I’m on yours, Harrington.”

“That’s my girl,” he says sealing the exchange with a kiss on the cheek.

***

JONATHAN: That first interview, on Wake Up, USA! was what really sold them. I mean, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other the entire time.

And then, when one of the hosts asked them how they met, Steve told this story about seeing her for the first time from across the restaurant during our first lunch together and how he was sure he had made a total fool of himself because he was so nervous to be around someone so beautiful, of course, Steve Harrington would say something like that. The audience swooned. Hell, I swooned a little bit.

And then they asked her about all the guys from her past, which was totally fucked up by the way, but she handled it great. She said she was grateful for all the mistakes she had made in the past because they had led her to The Downsides and to Steve.

Between that interview and our live performance, the audience was hooked. 

***

“Good job, you two,” Hopper says gruffly, patting you and Steve on the shoulder as you're ushered off stage after your performance.

“Thanks,” you squeak out, all the tension slowly deflating from your body after hearing Hopper’s approval.

It was done, your first live appearance complete, and it hadn’t been a total train wreck.

Actually, thinking back, it had been pretty good. There was a good variety of questions; everyone had gotten to speak; and when it came to you and Steve, well, it seemed believable at least. And the band managed to preform the new single without a hitch, all of the kinks that had plagued you during the last few weeks of rehearsals ironed out. 

Maybe you could pull this off after all.

***

By the time the band had wrapped up the week-long press junket, you were exhausted.

What had taken more of a toll than the hours of sitting in makeup chairs, too-tight shoes and repetitive questions was having to pretend with Steve.

You realize now that your problem was never the risk of not being convincing enough, but instead of being too convincing.

You had spent the entire week so physically attached to Steve, that it was beginning to feel like you were one single being. Like he was an appendage you couldn’t move without.

And every kiss on the cheek, every look, every squeeze of your hand, felt like a jumpstart to your heart.

Then there were actual interview parts. Steve was good with the press. He would draw audiences and hosts alike, in as easy as if he was winding up a thread. There was never a question that would catch him off guard and he always came off boyish and genuine in his responses. Like the time he was asked what his favorite thing about you was and he told the story of you showing up at the recording studio with cookies and having the guts to change Eddie’s lyrics in the same afternoon.

You knew better than to ask if he meant it. 

The next day, Hopper called to let you know that your album was breaking all sorts of records, and the label was incredibly pleased. So much so that they were thinking of increasing the tour dates and they were even starting to plan for future projects—projects that they wanted you to write.

The news didn’t make you feel light with joy like you had once hoped it would, instead, it made you feel heavy like a sinking stone.

A few weeks later, when the band went their separate ways for the Christmas break, you all knew something big was coming, you just had no way of knowing what.

***

JONATHAN: Right after New Year, Hopper pulls the band into a meeting in his office. First thing he told us was that they were announcing a tour with twice as many dates as they had originally planned for, demand was that high. Then he said, “From this point on, everything is going to move really quickly, there’s no getting off the ride now.”

NEXT CHAPTER 🥁

Taglist: @rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter

[watermelonsugacry]

OMG could you imagine harry or yn on hot ones, I feel like yn would kill it(I’m not sure abt harry)😭

HOT ONES

A/N: this was so fun! ty to the lovies that sent in some questions for this one 💚 (picture credits to harianadimples & harianachile !) (4.6k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Hey, what’s going on everybody. This is First We Feast, I’m Sean Evans, and you’re watching Hot Ones. It’s the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. And today we’re joined by the one and only YN YLN. You might have known her as one sixth of the most famous and influential bands in history, One Direction. She’s a triple threat and an 8 time Grammy award-winning singer, song-writer, musician, and producer and we shouldn’t be surprised if she adds a couple more on her shelf with her new album Waiting Room. The no features, no skip album that’s quickly making its way to the top of the charts. YN, welcome to the show.”

“What a fookin’ intro, man,” YN laughs and plants her hands on the circular table. “Thank yeh for having me on here.”

“The pleasure is all mine. It’s an honor to have you on the show. How are we feeling today?”

“M’actually extremely terrified,” She lets out a chuckle, clasping her hands together as her eyes look over the lineup of spicy wings in front of her.

“About the wings or the questions?”

“It’s half and half for sure.”

“So how are you with spicy foods?”

“M’quite alright with them but m’bit frightened by this gorgeous array of hot sauces here. Like—” YN holds up one of the tiny, glass bottles to the camera. “—this one quite literally has a picture of a bomb on it so,” She raises her hands in defense with a shrug of her shoulders. “Take that as you will.”

...

“Mhm,” YN nods as she licks her lips. “S’quite tasty. I like that one.”

“For the record, I did see that you ate the whole wing. Do you plan on continuing that as we go down the line?”

“I don’t waste food, man,” She smirks as she wipes her hands on the red cloth.

“So let’s start off with before you came into the spotlight. It was revealed that you actually didn’t want to continue singing as a profession when you were younger, but your childhood best friend and later on One Direction band member, Louis Tomlinson, made you audition on the XFactor with him. How did this come to be?”

“He tricked me actually. Louis had told me about how he was able to get an audition for the XFactor and I was super excited for him. Getting a chance like this was all he had talked about when we were growing up. On our way to Manchester—which was like an hour or two away from Doncaster—he told me that he got me an audition too and I was gonna sing in front of the biggest audience ever. The little shit."

"But do you think you would have auditioned if it were on your own terms?" Sean inquires.

"Probably not, if m'being honest," YN shakes her head. "And that honestly me skin crawl. M'very grateful for the path that I went on and that my fans have been giving me the opportunity to continue to do what I love for the past 12 years."

...

Once YN bites off of the last piece of her next wing, she shrugs her shoulders, “These wings are really good. This is easy, bro.”

“I’m just trying to keep up with you,” Seam chuckles before finishing off his piece. “Okay, so let me brag for you for a sec.”

“Alright,” YN lets out a nervous chuckle.

“You have 8, count ‘em, 8, Grammys in the 12 years since you became a solo artist and you have another impressive 8 nominations for the Grammys 2023. One of your many wins is being producer of the year—a category you nominated for the second year in a row—which you said in a Rolling Stones article that it was probably the best award out of everything you’ve ever received in your professional career as an artist. Can you give us some insight into how that became such an important staple on your shelf?”

“Wow,” YN huffs out a smile in disbelief. Her nostrils begin to flare and she can feel the tears threatening to escape her eyes. She feels uncharacteristically embarrassed that she’s suddenly overcome with emotions. “Woah, sorry. I don’t know why I was gonna cry for a second there.”

YN looks up with a chuckle, shimmies in her seat, before she gives a single clap. “Okay, m’good. Yeah I mean, for the first couple of years of my career, I fell in love with what it takes to actually make a song, how to layer instruments and vocals, and the details you can initially glaze over when you first listen to a song. But being the only woman in a music studio full of my male band members, producers, sound engineers, and everyone—it took me a while to be confident enough to speak out about making suggestions in the process of making a song.

I learned so much by just watching in me corner of the room, then I was shown bits and pieces from 1D’s production team. And when I went onto me solo career, I was taken under the wings of kickass producers like Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson. Being a woman in this industry—capable of making me own music is a huge accomplishment for me as an artist and for all women who want to break out in a male dominated environment.”

“Continuing the brag streak—”

“Oh, no,” YN smiles behind her red napkin. As confident and narcissistic as she can be, she’s never been one to take a compliment—especially the way in which Sean is just throwing them out there like free candy.

“—your first solo world tour sold out in less than 4 minutes, and your current tour sold out in less than two. How was it like to come into a solo tour after touring with the rest of One Direction five years straight?”

“Well to start off, that statistic is absolutely insane,” YN lets out a laugh. “It was such a big change to do this on my own without the boys by my side on stage. I remember doing a final dress rehearsal the day before me first show and while I sat on stage and just looked out at the massive arena I was in, I began to panic. It wasn’t like I hadn’t performed in that big of a room before but I began to think what if they only bought the tickets because they were so used to the boys? Like, what if they didn’t like just me onstage or the fact that I was doing choreographed dance routines and things like that? But that all changed once I was actually on stage performing. I…I’ve never felt that type of love before.”

...

After YN tosses the bone of her next piece of chicken away and as Sean begins his next question, she stares off to the corner of the table for a second and widens her eyes. Out of nowhere, the spice level has officially been kicked up.

“You’ve also made some impressionable fashion choices that have become a staple in not only your own wardrobe but in the closets of your fanbase. From your frilly shirts from your One Direction days to becoming the female face of Gucci. From your signature 7-inch platform heels to your variety of colorful and textured opera gloves. How important is fashion in your life and how you choose to express yourself?”

YN licks her swollen lips, chuckling a bit from the spice is starting to pick up.

“Fashion wasn’t something I was super passionate about growing up. I wore a lot of dark clothing when I was teenager and when I was in the band I began to wear a lot of shirts and pinks and high heels which was a drastic change for me to say the least. I then went into a lot of changes of like—” YN moves her hand fluidly up and down in a roller coaster motion. “—I was angsty to girly girl to frat girl to comfy to leather. And when I went on this solo journey, I was embracing both a new and older side of me with more pinks and heels but putting a sexier twist to it. And now m’all trousers and blazers but m’still very much figuring out me style. All of my different fashion ‘eras’ define a different chapter of me life and I think that’s such a cool thing about fashion. Clothes don’t wear you, you wear the clothes and when you have that in mind, it can give yeh a big sense of confidence.”

YN can’t help the smile tugging on her lips from her memories of being on stage, “And it’s such an indescribable feeling being on stage for tour and just seeing a sea full of the fans in those long gloves.”

“It has officially become one of many infamous YN YLN trademarks,” Sean points out.

“I guess so,” She laughs along with the host.

...

“We have a segment on our show called Explain That Gram where we do a deep dive on your Instagram and pull interesting photos that need more context.”

“Sounds good, man,” YN nods and she reaches for the hot sauce used for this piece of chicken. "This one has like a lemony taste to it. I like it."

"Well, we have this whole set for you to take home today."

"Shut up," Her eyes widen in excitement. "No way, that's very sweet of yeh. Thank yeh so much, I appreciate that."

When Sean pulls up the first picture on his laptop, YN immediately coos at the screen.

“Wow you guys really went far back, didn’t yeh? Yeah so this was at the band’s third tour, I believe. I remember having such a shitty day earlier before the show and to cheer me up, Harry asked if I could braid his hair,” YN giggles at the memory.

She was going through a rough patch with Matthew and they had an argument right before she had to do some interviews for the day and a show later that night. Knowing how to approach her best, Harry knocked on her dressing room door to see a teary eyed YN wiping her cheeks as quickly as she could. He didn’t ask her why she was crying or try to give her comforting words right away. Instead, he repeated his question when she gave him a furrow of her eyebrows and tilt of her head.

For the last 20 minutes before they had to head backstage, Harry sat on the floor in front of the couch in between her legs. As she twisted and weaved his long hair, he kept her laughing with poor jokes and funny vines he saved on his phone.

She didn’t have time to finish the middle section of his head and when she asked him to sit back down to take the braids out, he refused and basked in the warmth of her smile. He went on stage with them on and he never saw the smile leave her face.

“I had been bugging him to let me do it ever since he decided he wanted to grow his hair out and donate it to charity. It was a very sweet thing he did for me.”

“Hehe,” YN giggles happily at the memory this picture holds for her. She sees her 20-year-old self squished in between Harry and Louis, her Ray Bands over her eyes as she smiles brightly at the camera. “So this looks like 2014 1D and if you’ve seen the footage you can tell that we are—” YN hits a higher pitch as she sings her next words, “High as a fookin’ kite. We were in Brazil and we wanted to go out exploring but there was this massive crowd of fans outside our hotel—”

“Oh, don’t touch your eyes!” Sean quickly reminds YN as she goes to wipe at her eyes.

“Ah! ‘Fank you,” She laughs and dabs at her eyes once someone behind the camera hands her a tissue. “Okay, so there were a lot of fans blocking the front of the hotel and we couldn’t have just merely walked out and got to our cars or anything. I can’t remember who suggested it but we ended up getting out through the back of a bread van. We totally went by unnoticed!”

“We’re going in that?” YN points to the back of the white bread van that’s stuffed with pillows. By the tone of her surprised voice, the hotel workers’ eyes widen, their cheeks get red and they can feel the sweat accumulating on their foreheads in fear. They didn’t want to disappoint and anger a member of the most famous band on the planet. Yet their eyes stay wide for a different reason as YN breaks out into a beaming smile. “Sick!”

She grips onto one of the back doors as she swings herself into the tiny space covered in pillows.

Louis gives one of the hotel workers a reassuring smile and a pat on the chest, “Yeh get used to it. Can I come in and cuddle you, Niall?” He teases as everyone begins to squish in together. Ben Winston is the last to come in and close the door beside him. He’s brought a camera with him to record the trip as it’s going to be a part of the many video diaries that YN can’t keep track of.

“I used to be a baker so I love being in the back of the bread van,” Harry notes like he hasn’t brought up his part-time job from his teenage years before.

“Would you give it a rest, mate,” YN groans from her squished position between him and Louis, giving him a playful roll of her eyes before chuckling along with the rest of the boys. 

“I quite like it in here,” Zyan smiles happily from his corner of the van. It doesn’t take long before they can hear the hundreds of fans screaming outside the vehicle. Everyone makes a shushing noise to quiet everyone as they pass the masses of fans. 

YN already gets anxious when the band has to drive through massive crowds of fans who like to bang on the windows of the Range Rovers. The boys even like to push against the thick glass to counter the weight but that doesn’t stop the anxiety rushing to her chest when it happens. 

Her mind starts to race at the thought that if the fans did actually find out that they were in there, they could easily shred the tiny van into pieces. 

When Harry sees her chest begin to rise up and down at an increasing weight behind his dark sunnies, he doesn’t think twice about putting a hand over hers that’s gripping the pillow in the space between them. He’s thankful for the dimly lit setting and the way she has her legs bent as it covers their tightly, intertwined hands. She discreetly follows his nonverbal instructions and inhales deeply through her nose to copying how he makes a small ‘O’ with his mouth to exhale.

“Why don’t we make this trip a little more exciting?” Zayn wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls out something from his cargo shorts pockets. 

YN pushes her sunglasses up to the top of her head and squints at the tiny object between her bandmate’s fingers before she smiles in relief. She watches as Zayn brings up the rolled-up substance to his lips, flicking his thumb on the lighter before a flame appears. After starting it, he goes to pass it to Niall who immediately shakes his head. Once Louis’s taken a hit, he passes it to an eager YN.

Everyone begins to have their own side conversations and Harry feels the butterflies in his stomach threatening to escape when YN doesn’t let go of his hand. 

He watches from behind his pitch dark sunglasses as she holds the blunt between her thumb and first two fingers, wrapping her lips around it ever so gently and hollowing out her cheeks. Her teeth clench together as she holds the smoke in her lungs for a couple of beats, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling before releasing the smoke into the space above her.

“How yeh feeling, Nialler?” Ben asks and turns the camera towards Niall in hopes of not capturing what the band is doing. Especially YN as it could cause harm to her “good girl” image that fans already know isn’t fully her.

“Not good,” He mutters out.

“Yeh want me to shotgun you one, Ni? It’ll make yeh feel better.” YN asks with a teasing smile once she blows out another puff from between her full lips, passing the blunt off to Harry. As he snickers along with the rest of the band, he has to admit that he’s relieved when Niall politely declines her offer. 

Once Harry has it between his lips and takes a deep inhale, he's suddenly coughing a few times into his fist.

"Woah," YN giggles and puts a hand on her bandmate's shoulder, already feeling the effects. "Maybe I should have offered you a hit instead."

Her teasing comment only makes him cough more at the intimate thought as he passes the drug to Liam.

"S'just been a while," He manages to say once he's calmed down.

"Just offering," YN smiles at him, biting down on her bottom lip as she leans her head back to the metal wall behind her.

"Well, you seem to be feeling better," Harry quickly changes the subject before he lets his hazy mind wander. He matches her position and leans his head back. A smile etches on his lips when she giggles, closing her eyes and nodding her head.

"Thanks to you," She whispers and gives his hand a squeeze. Getting into a fuzzy headspace, she doesn't think about how long she's been holding his hand or how it makes her skin tingle at his touch. Instead, she brings their hands up between them and pushes them flat against one another so their palms are together. "Woah, look how much bigger yeh hands are."

His dimples dig into his cheeks as he cheekily chuckles at her, letting her maneuver their hands together as she pleases.

"How long?" Louis asks the drivers through the wall behind him. After letting him know that they've arrived, he dramatically yells out, "Okay!"

As soon as their security teams have opened the back doors of the tiny van, everyone begins to scooch their way out.

"S'almost as big as me face!" Harry lets out a string of high-pitched giggles when YN grasps his hand in both of hers and holds it up close to her face to demonstrate her point.

“It made the experience 10x better than it needed to be,” YN laughs, reminiscing at the fun memories she had with her boys. “I just felt bad for Niall, poor thing got both motion sickness and a secondhand high.”

"Alright, last one."

“Yeah, so—” YN sucks in a deep breath through her teeth from the spicy wing she just had. “Um, this was around the time when I started to write some songs on me own, just out on a whim. This was when me manager told me that someone was interested in buying it. So that was me reaction to the news. As you can tell, I acted very professional and calm about the situation.”

...

"I must say that you're doing a really good job so far," Sean smiles at the pop star across the table. "Most would have finished their first glass of milk by now while you're still drinking water."

"I'm built different."

“It’s no surprise to anyone that you know your way around a guitar. You’ve shown off some of your favorite and unique guitars from your extensive collection over the past couple of years. From your custom-made Daisy Rock Debutante butterfly shape staple to your Fender Vintera '50s Stratocaster that was used in a plethora of ABBA’s songs. From Jimi Hendrix's 1967 Gibson Flying V to your baritone/tenor snail shaped ukulele—The Snailele. Out of the all of guitars in your care, what would you say is the coolest guitar you own and why is it your Red Special?”

YN covers her mouth as she laughs out loud while simultaneously trying not to think about the heat increasing in her mouth.

“How do you even know that? I mean, yeh asking me to pick me favorite is like choosing my favorite child. I love all me guitars and they all have a chokehold over me heart. My Red Special is just—” YN has to take in a deep breath in hopes to cool down the heat building on her tongue. “—one of the fookin’ coolest things I own. It’s a hand-crafted replica of Brian May’s guitar that he uses for literally everything and when I met him I nearly shit meself, m’not even joking. Like, that guy is fookn’ superhero, know what I mean? And when he gifted me the guitar, I saw the light, man. I literally had an outside body experience. Like I saw meself in the middle of Brian May’s dressing room as he handed me the guitar.”

“Some people buy and collect expensive cars, I have cool guitars,” YN shrugs with a content smile.

...

“Now, let’s talk about the infamous Harry Styles.”

YN nods her head towards the host, hissing in a deep breath from the hot wing she just ate. This piece has easily become one of the spicier wings so far and she can instantly tell why that is from the mention of her secret fiancé. She smirks as she raises her glass of water to her lips, “Lets.”

“So, you guys have known each other for a little more than 12 years now as you guys were in One Direction together. And on New Years 2020, it has revealed to the world that you guys were in a relationship. Now, I won’t ask for you to go into the details of your relationship but is there any particular reason as to why you guys have kept your anniversary a secret?”

“You know, from a very young age, mine and Harry’s lives have always been in the public eye,” YN licks her lips and chuckles as the burning sensation only increases the more she speaks. They don’t call this hot sauce DaBomb for nothing. “Holy shit. Think m’gonna have to take off me blazer for this one, is that alright?” YN questions, already shedding off her coat. The tattoos scattered along her arms go on display and fans can see Harry’s handwriting inked on her upper rib cage.

“Go ahead, whatever you need to do,” Sean gives her a comforting smile. “Here, I’ll even take my jacket off, too. We’re in this together.”

“I feel the support,” YN laughs but it only makes the stinging that much more intense. “M’actually starting to sweat. Oof okay umm…yeah, even the way our relationship was ‘announced’ kind of left us vulnerable, in a way.”

“What a start to the new year.”

“Exactly. And there was a time in our lives where we felt that everyone knew everything about us and it was something that just didn’t sit well with us. So to have this one piece of our lives for only ourselves just felt right. And even though I’m on social media more than he is and I post a couple of pictures of us every now and then, we definitely don’t feel that way anymore. Which feels really nice.”

“Moving onto the more professional side of your relationship with Harry, you’ve obviously worked with him during your time in the band. You were initially brought onto his production team as a songwriter for his first album, then a musician, vocal-arrangement manager, and producer for his second, and now you were all of the above plus co-lead producer for his current album, Harry’s House. You’ve also worked with big time artists like Little Mix, The Weeknd, Lizzo, and Olivia Rodrigo just to name a few. How did that initial experience help you grow as a producer and build relationships when working with other artists?”

“You’ve really done yeh research haven’t yeh?” YN giggles before going into a coughing fit, quickly bringing the red cloth over her mouth from the spicy wing. “Excuse me. Shit, sorry,” YN laughs before reaching for her tall glass of water.

“Is it finally starting to hit?”

YN takes a gulp of water, quickly licking her lips as she sniffles away the start of a running nose. Being as stubborn as ever, she shakes her head, “Nope.”

“We do have milk for you there if you need it,” Sean kindly points out and YN begins to chew on a piece of ice.

“Don’t need it, ‘fanks. Umm, oh right. Harry’s me best friend above all else and we’ve been writing together since as long as I can remember. We’ve gone through and learned about this process together for over a decade now. He’s considered one of me biggest clients and when we work together, I tell him the honest truth. I don’t like to suga’ coat shit and it’s how I work. That’s something that he knows, feel comfortable with, and respects. And there’s always that ‘something’ you learn about with every artist you work with. Like sure we can go into the studio cold turkey and make a song together but before I work with someone, I wanna take them outside of the mindset, ‘Okay, I wanna make a #1 hit single,’ and make a song that means something to them.”

YN swallows thickly, swinging her legs back and forth as she tries to get her thoughts in order from her spice-induced brain.

“With Harry, he’s sort of allowed me to explore and experiment when making music; he trusts me in that sense and as a producer, that’s the most important thing I can have when creating something as intimate as music.”

...

YN’s eyes widen when she sees Sean begin to shake the bottle, “O-oh we’re doing this?”

“It’s tradition around here to add a little bit more sauce on the last wing. Now you don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Seany boy, if there’s one thing yeh should know about me is that v’got a huge ego. But m’sure yeh already knew that,” YN just her hand out towards the host, wiggling her fingers while sucking in another sharp breath in hopes to ease the pain on her tongue. “Gimme that shit.”

With an uneasy sigh, YN shakes the bottle to pour some of the thick hot sauce to the last wing on the cutting board.

“Come on, YN,” YN whispers to herself. “You’re a bad bitch.”

Making sure to avoid her lips from touching the chicken as much as possible, she takes a heavy bite from the last wing.

She scrunches up her face as she chews but it turns into a pleasantly surprised expression. “Wait, what the fook that one was actually quite good. S’actually not that bad—oh shit, no nevermind.”

Sean chuckles at the rollercoaster of emotions displayed in front of him. YN gulps down as much water as she can.

“Okay, side question as you’re processing all of this: Since you have yet to reach for the milk we have for you, in your honest opinion, do you think Harry Styles could handle the range of spice that you’ve endured over the course of this show?”

YN chews and speaks around a mouthful of ice, “He can try but he wouldn’t make it past the second one.”

“Is that a little trash talk I hear?” Sean laughs.

“Listen up, baby,” YN leans her elbow on the table and points to the camera that’s solely directed on her. “I love yeh, you know I do, but you couldn’t eat any of this shit if yeh tried. Just the smell of it is gonna make your eyes water. Just looking out for you, lovie. And let’s face it, we both clearly know m’the stronger one here,” She blows a kiss at the camera and reaches for her water cup once again.

When she has the glass to her lips, she huffs out a giggle, “He’s gonna come after me for that later. Fook, s’like m’breahting fire right now.”

YN leans her forearms on the edge of the round table and balls her hands into fists to keep herself stable at the burning on her tongue intensifies.

“That last thing I wanna do before be close up shop here is play a little game of association. I’m going to throw out some stuff out to you and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. Are you ready?”

“Hit me with ‘em.”

“Jacob Collier.”

YN scoffs and shakes her head with a smile, “A fookin’ mastermind.”

“The restaurant Danny’s Place.” YN throws her head back and laughs at how much research this guy actually did on her past. Her brain has turned into utter mush from the spicy chicken that she can’t come up with a polite, media-trained response.

“It’s still shit,” YN shrugs and she doesn’t even try to hide her smile.

“Loophole.”

“Woah,” YN’s eyes widen with a chuckle. “Oh my word. Hell yeah. Okay—you are like the best interviewer I’ve ever had in me life. Um, bitch’n.”

...

“Okay to this camera, this camera or this camera, tell the people what you’ve got going on lately.”

“Um—” YN blinks away her spice-induced tears away, sniffing and rubbing the red cloth to her runny nose. “M’currently on a world tour. So if yeh bought a ticket, I’ll see yeh lot very soon. Also, me new album Waiting Room comes out the day after tomorrow—Wait, when will this air? Well, it will be out very soon because I can’t really think straight at the moment. Erm, this show was a fookin’ piece of cake and Sean Evans is a legend.”

The Sean and the crew members behind the cameras all clap and cheer making YN laugh. Once the shoot is a wrap and the credits begin to show up at the bottom of the screen, YN gets up and out of her seat to give a hug to possibly her new favorite host.

“How often do you do this?” She genuinely asks.

“Every week.”

“You eat this spicy shit every week?” Sean nods and laughs at how wide her eyes get. “You’re a fookin’ legend, man. I mean it.”

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02

[caeli0306]

Hello! Welcome to the unhinged record of my writing and other obsessions

Hello! I'm Caeli. I'm 23 and a journalist by day, rabid Fourth Wing/Empyrean and Star Wars fan by night. FW got me back in to reading fantasy, and then IF left me with a crippling book hangover. I turned to writing fanfiction for the first time to try to get my mind off of it, and now I spend my days writing... and then go home at night and write some more.

My fics (all posted on AO3):

Completed:

Tales from the Airport Bathroom - Xaden/Violet spy/soldier AU almost entirely from Xaden's POV where Violet is Stab Happy and Xaden is a Simp, the meet cute is on an airplane, and Xaden gives wife guy vibes as Violet destroys her enemies. Completed, four chapters, 19.5k words. (1)(2)(3)(4)

the present, the past, and you in between - VERY angsty one shot from Xaden's POV where he reflects on his lifelong love for Violet. Completed, 1k words. (1)

Did Someone Say Shots? - One-shot College AU where Xaden thinks his feelings are unrequited but has to look out for Violet on an evening where she goes a little crazy with the Fireball shots. Completed, 10k words. (1)

Did Someone Say Roadtrip? - A short prequel to Did Someone Say Shots? based on the RQ War Games drabble prompt fics that were getting posted for the 1 year anniversary. Completed, 1.1k words. (1)

Did Someone Say Vacation? - A sequel of sorts to Did Someone Say Shots? that can be read on its own, where Xaden is vulnerable, Violet is emotional intelligent, and 🌶️. Completed, 12.7k words (1)

Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal - Xaden/Violet Modern Day AU where Violet is a political crisis consultant and Xaden is running for office. Mutual hatred turns to mutual pining, and of course, scorching sexual tension. 🌶️ eventually. Completed, 71k words. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

In-progress:

castles crumbling - Xaden/Violet assassin-spy/soldier AU, aka the extended version of Tales from the Airport Bathroom. In-progress, chapter 15 posted 8/26, 120.5k words and counting. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)(14)(15)

On hiatus:

Swan Song - 2nd gen fic following Xaden and Violet's second daughter, Fen, as she tries to figure out who - or what - killed her sister Nora in a world where Tyrrendor is independent and the venin have been defeated for 25 years. Featuring the fan favorite Aidan Matthias, Rhiannon's adopted son with Tara, a brand new squad, and a squad leader with a very familiar name. Chapter 13 posted 4/14, 72k words and counting, on hiatus indefinitely. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)

Addendum - Companion piece for Swan Song. A series of one-shots expanding on the background of my Swan Song fic and giving perspective from different characters' POV's, especially Nora's. Chapter 3 posted 3/5, 4.6k words and counting, updated sporadically depending on story needs. (1)(2)(3)

Things to know:

Update Schedule:

I don't have one! Like I mentioned in my intro, I am a journalist by day, which means I already do a lot of writing on a daily basis. I love it, but that also means that during busy news cycles I might not have the time or the desire to write. I do this for fun and because I love sharing the worlds in my head with other people, but my first priority will always be myself. If I haven't updated in a week or two, that doesn't mean they'll never be updated! I will always put a note on my Tumblr if I'm putting something on hiatus, along with an estimate for when I plan to start updating again.

What I post about

In order to keep myself accountable, I post frequent updates on my writing progress here. As I said above, I write these stories because I love them, but also because I love sharing them. This helps me stay on track, while also letting people know the general progress of the next chapter.

How long will castles crumbling be?

TBD! Tales from the Airport Bathroom was no plan, just vibes. castles crumbling is the extended version, so it will obviously be longer. While I do have a general plan for this here extended version, I don't have a chapter-by-chapter outline the same way I do with Swan Song. This is partially because I'm still going back and forth on how parts of this story will go, but also because I want to try writing in a bit of a less structured way than I have been doing. I can't imagine it will be shorter than 25 chapters, but honestly, who knows? I'll update this when I have a better idea.

When will you update Addendum again? When should I read the different Addendum chapters?

I created Addendum because I wanted to give people insight into Nora without interrupting the flow of Swan Song. I expanded this concept by adding in a Violet POV chapter as well. These provide context to certain interactions, foreshadow future events, or otherwise flesh out the world in which Fen and the other characters inhabit. In short, it will be updated as needed.

Nora's First Addendum - Read after Chapter 4 of Swan Song

Nora's Second Addendum - Read after Chapter 7 of Swan Song

Violet's First Addendum - Read after Chapter 9 of Swan Song

Lastly, I love hearing from people who read my fics. Feel free to message me whenever, whether its to provide constructive criticism, ask a question, offer up a writing prompt, or just to say hi!

[phoebehalliwell]

AU where Piper doesn't give up the godhood and instead disappears to parts unknown to cause chaos. Leo, up in Elderland, is drowning himself in his work as an escape. Phoebe, unable to deal with the trauma of losing yet another family member to magic, swears off magic and moves to Hong Kong with Jason. Paige is left trying to raise Wyatt and fight demons with only Chris for support.

yoooo fuckin grunge rendition & a perfect kickoff for a dark future tho in this dark future i don’t think it’s be like Evil Wyatt™ i think it’s be more like the world falls out of balance with the charmed ones severed and piper’s off fucking up shit i think we’ll put paige & henry together somehow in this au but like eventually they’re gonna have to leave the manor bc it’s such a seat of power and without the charmed ones they’re really vulnerable so henry’s like okay well i know you haven’t spoken with your sister in like almost a year but don’t you think it’s time let’s just go there so paige is like alright everyone pack your bags and chris is like i’m not going and paige is like what don’t be ridiculous of course you’re going and chris is like no i’ll stay here and protect the manor and paige is like you’ll die and chris is like i’m dying anyways. well, ceasing to exist, more like and paige is all like what sudden plot device are you springing on me now and chris is like well um in short i kinda fucked up and paige is like noah fence but i sorta got that when you made piper a god with no plan to get it out of her and chris is like yes okay i mean like globally i fucked up there but like on a personal level i also sorta fucked up? yeah. piper’s my mom. and paige is like !!!!!!! okay What??? and chris is like i needed to get close to the charmed ones to stop the dark future from happening i figured i could pose as your whitelighter you know stop the world from turning evil but that meant i had to get rid of leo. my dad. and paige is like okay i Need to sit down what the fuck What The Fuck and you did all this- and you- and now everything’s worse- and chris is like if it’s any consolation i’m pretty sure i at least got us off the evil dictator wyatt timeline and paige is like WHAT and chris is like yeah :/ but you’re- you’re doing a great job paige. if anyone can fix this, you can. sorry. and paige like goes downstairs and henry has wyatt and like a duffel and is like where’s chris and paige is like he’s staying behind and henry’s like what he can’t and paige is like no. he can. let’s go. and she orbs them out meanwhile chris’s math is telling him he’s got like a week maybe a week and a half til his conception so if there’s any time to use witchcraft it’s now i guess and he begins a ritual to tether him to the house. as long as it still stands, he’ll still be with it, guarding it from evil. it takes him almost a week to get the spell right, but he does it, unknowingly fusing himself with the nexus in the process. leo notices paige is gone and the house is empty and orbs in fearing the worst, only to find a chris that isn’t entirely chris well more like he is entirely chris and then some. he can tell he’s fused with the nexus. he’s also see-through, stuck permanently in the fade out of existence, but not to truly die until the house is gone. and leo has nothing to say. he has nothing to say bc everything here is his fault and this is all his doing and oh my god the world is falling apart and now there’s a ghost chris haunting the manor and he’ll never see his wife again and oh my god so he just sorta sits down in defeat and chris sorta sits down next to him like sorry i fucked all this up and leo’s like it’s not your fault. i did this and chris is like you can’t take all the blame i made the moves to put you in that position and leo’s like yeah and i still made them gods that was my own choice. and chris is like. did beat the titans tho. and leo’s like yeah lmao looks like we saved the world huh and chris is like yeah. it’s only going up from here. and it’s quiet for a minute and chris is like can i need to tell you something and leo’s like okay and chris is just like quiet and leo’s like are you actually gonna tell me and chris is like yeah but then he’s quiet again and leo’s just sorta like gonna sit there like let him take his time and they just like Sit There and after a while chris is like i’m your son and you know it’s not like leo was necessarily expecting anything but he really wasn’t expecting That and leo’s like like you’re my. like my son, like me & piper’s. son. and chris is like yeah :/ and leo’s just like oh. sorry. and chris is like for what? and leo’s like you had to come back to save the future clearly i fucked that one up to and chris is like no you didn’t. you... and leo’s like what and chris is like you never stopped believing in good. and he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying all this bc up until this very moment he thought that was his father’s biggest flaw and it’s what he hated about him but like right now. like what else can they really do but hope for the good in people. and leo’s like were we close? and chris is like no not really. and leo’s like oh :( and they just sit there. and after a while the elders chime and leo’s like i gotta go i guess. and chris is like yeah. and leo’s like i’m not giving up. not yet. we can still save the future. and chris just looks over at his dad and like leo means it like he’s got this look in his eyes this newfound fire and it sorta makes chris hope too and leo tries to pat chris on the shoulder but his hand sorta just waves through him but chris almost smiles like he gets the sentiment and leo orbs out and for the first time in like a long time chris just. cries. over in hong kong phoebe is hosting paige and henry (& baby wyatt) and she’s being cordial but it’s obvious she’s on edge and she’s practically begging paige to stay with her, to bind her magic. they’re protected and cloaked and they can live a normal life like they always wanted and paige is like i never wanted a normal life. i don’t want to live in a world without magic, i don’t want to live in a world without my sisters and phoebe’s like a world with magic is a world without your sisters. i should know. please don’t let it take you too.

okay this keeps going for another 3000 words i have no self restraint. the rest is under the cut

and paige really has to grapple with that because it’s sort of true. either she hides or she goes down fighting because it doesn’t seem like she can make it out of this one alive. and she knows if it was just her, she’d fight. she’d fight to the bitter end but it’s not just her it’s her and henry and baby wyatt it’s not just her. so it’s not just her decision to make. and phoebe says she can stay as long as she wants so long as she doesn’t practice any magic. demons can’t really track them if they never actively use their magic, and with the most basic wards phoebe set up, they’re practically invisible to the other side (jason has been informed about magic but he stays on a need to know basis). & paige hates it. i mean for starters she’s miles from home in a foreign country and while she still has her whitelighter gift of omnilingualism she sees phoebe tense up whenever she speaks mandarin so she stops using it around the house. and jason’s place is really nice and spacious and it’s not like they’re all living on top of one another but like paige feels insanely cooped up and she keeps watching the news and sees all these things happening and they’re like wow this is so unexplainable. experts are baffled. no scientific explanation. and she knows it’s magic and she knows she has to do something about it and henry can sense she’s getting antsy and he wants her to know that no matter what she chooses he’s behind her 100% and paige is like no it’s way too dangerous and henry’s like i don’t care paige i’m not going to sit on the sidelines and do nothing especially if this is as dangerous as you say it is and paige is like i can’t let you get hurt and henry’s like you don’t think i feel the same way? if we go down, we’re going down together. i’m with you in this. for better or worse. and paige is like okay. but just one thing first. and henry’s ready to argue to put up a fight but is completely caught off guard when paige says marry me. and phoebe is overjoyed to have a wedding and like jason’s completely willing to cover the whole thing because he hasn’t seen phoebe smile like this since piper went missing but paige and henry really don’t want all the bells and whistles so they just have a super lowkey ceremony in the living room which to be fair is huge & extravagant and has a beautiful view of the hong kong skyline and phoebe’s feeling like this happiness and hope that she hasn’t felt in such a long time and she even lets paige conjure a wedding dress even though paige said she was fine just getting married in one of phoebe’s nice white dresses phoebe’s like no this is your special day this is your wedding it should be yours it should be you and paige smiles and gives her a hug and even though phoebe’s powers are bound she can feel this tug from her empathy as if it’s trying to bubble to the surface. so blah blah blah paige and henry get married and they’re getting ready to like you know do their best to try to save the world namely to get piper back and they’re leaving wyatt with phoebe and jason but paige pulls phoebe aside like come with us. piper’s your sister too, you can save her. and phoebe’s like i can’t. i couldn’t then, i can’t now, i’m not strong enough. and paige is like i think that’s bullshit i think you are strong enough i think you’re just scared. and phoebe’s like paige you might think you know me but you don’t know me that well. i’m not scared; i’m terrified. and if i was strong enough, i’d stop you. i’d stop you from going on a suicide mission and i’d stop you from leaving me the last man standing but if there’s one thing it seems i’ve never been strong enough to do it’s save my sisters. and paige is like you saved me. way back in s4, you saved me. you are strong enough. come with me. and phoebe’s like i can’t blah blah blah henry’s been talking with jason because jason’s like oh are you gonna go save the world and henry’s like nah i’m probably just gonna die and jasons like oh. . is that like your game plan? and henry’s like paige is gonna try to find piper. she hopes if she can bring her back, she can fix the balance. and jasons like bring her back from where and henry sorta sighs that sigh that you sigh when you’re in way over your head and he’s like godhood and jason’s like excuse me and henry like yeah know all the freak storms that have been happening lately and jason’s like that’s piper? and henry’s like yeah and jason’s like shit. and he sort looks over at phoebe who’d like now in the kitchen and she’s got a death grip on a mug of tea and looks like she’s trying not to feel anything and henry looks over at paige who’s like basically putting on her war paint and stocking up on potion ingredients and this that and the other and both these lads know this situations fucked up and jason’s like look not that i’m trying to rush you off to your death but and henry’s like great start and jason’s like i own a satellite company or some bullshit blah blah blah basically we’ve been tracking these storms trying to figure out where the next one’s gonna hit and henry’s you can track piper. and jason’s like. yeah. i had no idea, but yeah. and henry’s like where’s the next one gonna be and jason makes a call blah blah blah it’s all in mandarin so henry has no idea what’s going on and jason’s like it looks like you have home field advantage. the next one’s gonna be in san francisco. and so paige and henry orb back to the manor and paige is like brewing potions like nobody’s business and henry’s like so what’s the plan and paige is like uhh to be perfectly frank there is no plan we’re just gonna wing it try to talk her down and if that doesn’t work... and henry’s like if that doesn’t work? paige is like try to stop her. and henry nods and paige is like it’s not too late to back out. and henry’s like not a chance. and paige is like brewing potions when chris floats in a paige is so shocked she almost blows up the whole attic adding an ingredient to a potion. and chris is like what’re you doing here? and paige is like you still exist? and henry’s like wait what does that mean? why can i see through you? and chris is like i tethered myself to the house. as long as it’s here i’m here. and paige is like that works?? and henry’s like you’re a ghost?? and chris is like i don’t think so. dad- leo says i’m the nexus. and paige is like you’re the nexus??? and henry’s like leo’s your father??? and paige is like yeah wait circle back you’ve talked to leo?????? and chris is like is like yes to all but can you answer my question and paige is like what was your question and chris is like why are you here and paige is like oh. and she’s looking at all her potions and like wondering whether or not she should tell chris she's here to throw hands with his mom when henry cuts in and says piper’s coming. and chris is like what? how do you know? and henry’s like jason’s weather tracking. a giant storm’s gonna hit in an hour, maybe two if we’re lucky. and with it- is gonna be my mom. and chris is like okay. what’s the plan. and paige is like there is no plan. and chris is like what do you mean there’s no plan? and henry’s like we’re gonna try to talk her down. chris is like and if that doesn’t work? and paige is like well then we try not to die. and chris is like well what are you going to say and paige is like ...i don’t know yet. it’ll come to me in the moment. and chris is like you’re joking and paige is like well do you have a better idea? and chris is like orbs out but when he does it’s like polluted with a dark smoke that paige recognizes as the nexus and she’s just like god this is so fucked up and then like lightning strikes and thunder rumbles and rain starts falling down and henry’s like i think it’s about to get worse. and paige like grabs a fistful of potions and she’s like you ready? and henry’s like there’s no one i’d rather face the end of the world with and takes her hand and they go out to the front steps of the manor and paige starts yelling to the sky like piper! piper it’s your sister! it’s paige! please come talk to me! piper! and like she and henry are already soaked to the bone and lightning strikes and brings down a tree near the side of the house but henry and paige stay standing and paige is like piper i’m not going anywhere! you’re my family; i’m not leaving! and piper’s like i don’t have a family. and she’s like a far cry from the party city goddess we saw in the season five her hair is long and wild and there seems to be vines growing intertwined with it and he dress has been soaked with mud and seawater and earth so many times it’s now like a fucked up brown and it’s got rips and tears that have been patched over by moss that seems to grow out of her skin and when she moves the earth seems to bend towards her. meanwhile in hong kong jason’s like why didn’t you tell me it was piper and phoebe’s like what and jason’s like this the world ending the apocalypse why didn’t you tell me it was piper? and phoebe’s like would it have made a difference? and jason’s like yes! phoebe she’s your sister, she means the world to you and phoebe’s like she’s not my sister anymore and jason’s like what and phoebe’s like that thing inside her, that power, it’s taken over. it’s not piper; piper would never do this. and she just sorta starts crying and jason pulls her in close and phoebe’s just like it’s not piper. i wish i had piper. and jason’s like i think you should go. with paige. i think you should go save her. and phoebe’s like what? and jason’s like i’ll watch wyatt. i can get you off the ground within the hour and have you land the as close as you can to san francisco, and i’ll- i’ll get a car to be there for you can you can drive the rest of the way but phoebe you need to be there. and phoebe’s like to do what? and jason’s like to tell her how much you need her. and phoebe just sort of wipes off her tears and is like okay and jason’s like i call the pilot and phoebe’s like there’s no time. i just need some rosemary, cypress, and yarrow root. and jason’s like what? and phoebe’s already like dragging stuff down from the cabinets and mixing it all in a bowl and like grabs a knife and jason’s just sorta like !!! and phoebe’s you know like power of the witches rise / course unseen across the skies / magic that i must unbind / a lost sister i must find and she looks over and jason and she’s terrified and jason kisses her and says i love you and phoebe says i love you too and she cuts open her finger spilling blood and chants blood to blood i call to you / blood to blood i return to and like a swirl of witches orbs and she’s gone and jason just hopes she comes back bc he’s got a ring ready for her when she does. and phoebe finds herself in the manor in the middle of what feels like a hurricane. and she can hear paige screaming outside. you do have a family, piper! we’re your family. and she hears piper scream and the earth shift and phoebe’s terrified like she might actually have a panic attack like terrified and she wonders if she should just go home where it’s safe but she looks around and. she is home. this is her home. and she can’t run anymore. and paige is still trying to talk piper down like wyatt still needs you! your son, wyatt, he needs his mother! and phoebe just hears a crashing sound and henry yelling like paige we need to get inside. and paige is like i’m staying right here! you hear that, piper? you’re gonna have to kill me, because there’s no way i’m leaving you! and phoebe like runs out in the pouring rain because she’s like 90% sure piper is about to kill paige so she just like. throws herself in front of paige, placing herself firmly between her and piper and yells piper! piper this isn’t you! you’re not a god you’re a charmed one! you’re my sister! you’re our family! and piper stops moving and it looks like tears might be running down her face but it might just be the torrential rain and phoebe starts walking towards her like you were there. when i was born. right in the living room piper you have been with me every second of my life! you taught me how to ride a bike! you let me back in after i ran away! and when i had lost myself to the greatest evil, when i thought i could never come back, you saved me, piper. come back. and she’d like a few feet away from piper and she can see how much this women changed how inhuman she’s become but it doesn’t matter bc she can still see piper and she just repeats like come back piper. come home. and thunder stops rumbling and the wind stops howling but it’s still a downpour of rain and paige hands all of her potions over to henry and runs over to piper and piper looks like a cornered animal and she just looks scared. she looks scared and angry and upset and she’s looking to phoebe and paige like she’s begging them to have the answers and paige is like you have a family. we’re your family. and piper’s like no. my family is gone. and phoebe’s like we’re right here. and piper words are just catching in her throat and she can’t even speak and when she hears the words i’m sorry, i should have never left you. the rain just stops all together and as she turns around to see leo her dress starts to disintegrate deteriorating like it would if it wasn’t held together by magic and she’s looking at leo like she can’t believe her eyes and leo just holds out his hands and is like i miss you, more than words can tell i miss you and i love you i never stopped i’ll never stop, piper... and there’s this insane amount of lightning and it just crackles everywhere and henry calls out because he’s sure paige just got fried and the whole place smells like ozone and when it clears and eyes adjust it’s piper, still a god, but different. moss no longer grows from her skin and vines don’t sprout from her hair, her ruined gown is back to a pristine white, and she’s holding leo’s hands. and leo’s just like come back home piper. and she hugs him, still crying as the essence of a god leaves her body. and phoebe and paige immediately make this a group hug completely forgetting boundaries bc like it’s piper again and they have waited so long to see piper again and piper just sort of. laughs, mixed in with a sob. and they all hold her so so super tight and she’s like okay people. can you let me breathe and uhh like Everyone is crying a lil bit (save for henry who’s just like. a lil bit confused) and piper goes back into the manor and sees like nexus!chris and she’s like woah why are you a ghost and chris is like it doesn’t matter. i’m gonna- i’m gonna go move on. it seems like the future’s saved, so... and leo’s like you don’t have to go. you could stay. and chris is like this isn’t my world. i’ve been clinging onto existence for too long, it’s time to let go and leo like looks at chris and he knows that he’s made up his mind and there’s no changing it so he just goes in to give chris a hug and when he does he actually cna make contact and he squeezes him tight and chris’s final words are just i love you, dad before he fades out of existence and piper’s like i’m sorry. dad? and leo’s like yeah um it’s a long story and piper’s like uh huh. and paige is like also i got married! and henry’s like hi. and piper’s like uh huh! okay! and she turns to phoebe like any surprises from you? and phoebe’s like no. um i’ve been going to a lot of therapy. and piper’s just like. alrighty then. and she’s sorta looking around the house and it’s sorta a shitshow like it’s been near destroyed by the storm and she’s just like you know looking around like fuck i really did all this oh god i just did like a lot of this i did a lot of damage around the world and leo notices her and is like. you know. by magic done can be magic undone. and piper’s like excuse me? and leo’s like whatever you did as a god. it can be reversed. it won’t change the memories of the time lost but... and piper’s just sort of nodding and she’s like it sounds like we’ll need the power of three and paige is like i can’t tell you how good it feels to hear that again and the girls all hold hands and close their eyes and phoebe starts off like a world out of balance a sisterhood broken / reunited and healed with these words spoken and paige is like we call on the power of three to guide us / drawing on good magic to save us from crisis and piper’s like to reverse the damage and harm that was done / we three witches ask as one and like top it off with an in unison as we will it / so mote it be and like you know a soft gold light like pours out and flows over everything you know the clouds part and the sun shines and the trees right themselves and glass repairs itself and henry’s like woahhh bc like he’s never seen magic on this level before and paige can’t help but smile and she kisses him and like piper’s with leo and phoebe’s like word. cue the screech of burning rubber sound of pounding footsteps and desperate knocking on the door and phoebe’s like i’ll get that i guess and she opens the door to find jason dean red faced and out of breath on her doorstep and phoebe’s like surprised and she goes in to hug him but as soon as he sees her he like drops to one knee and still trying to catch his breath pulls out a ring like phoebe halliwell will you marry me? and phoebe’s like !!! yes! and like jason’s driver comes up the front steps holding baby wyatt and he’s sorta hovering behind like is this jason’s baby he seems a lil busy right now i guess i’ll keep holding this kid when wyatt sees piper and is like mama! and orbing right out of that man’s handing into piper’s arms and jason’s like yeah uh pretend you didn’t see that and the drivers like yeah. i’m gonna go wait in the car. blah blah blah happy ending wyatt telekinetically closes the door.

[venus-haze]

In the Mood for Love (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Elvis breaks up with you just as his career is taking off, as if your support for him meant nothing. You finally manage to work through your heartbreak and start what you think is a new chapter in your life with someone who seems to understand what you’re going through. After two months of guilt and regret, Elvis returns to Memphis to find that you’ve apparently moved on, but he’s determined to win you back.

Note: This is based off of an anonymous request. Reader is gender neutral. I listened to the soundtrack from In the Mood For Love (one of my favorite movies ever) while writing this, and Frank is inspired by Tony Leung’s character Chow. Please let me know what you all think. Requests are open🔮 Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Some jealous behavior, but nothing disturbing.

Walking up to ‘Miss Louann’s Dance Studio’ as the sun set purple behind you, you felt your stomach flip at the prospect of stepping out of your comfort zone. You signed up for a beginner’s Latin dancing class on a whim, wanting something to take your mind off of Elvis, your boyfriend of two years, breaking up with you as soon as he started getting famous.

Even if you ended up being terrible at it, you hoped a new hobby and making new friends would be a step in the right direction of getting yourself out of the funk you’d been in for the past two months. You’d go to work and feel sorry for yourself, come home and cry yourself to sleep, and be an absolute drag whenever you went out with friends because inevitably his music was playing somewhere. If anyone but your ex had recorded ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, you’d probably have the record on non-stop. You decided enough was enough, and you needed to move forward with your life.

The dance class was held twice a week in the evenings, which fit in perfectly with your work schedule. The modest dance studio showed signs of wear, especially on the wood flooring with grooves and scuff marks from years of dancers moving across it. Miss Louann had opened the studio after the war, and it seemed like she hadn’t updated anything since.

You set your bag down next to the others that were piled against the wall. Scanning the room, you noticed a mix of a few dozen couples and singles, all appearing to be in their late teens to mid-thirties. You walked over to a small group of people, awkwardly introducing yourself. To your relief, they were all friendly, and you enjoyed the casual conversation with them.

Miss Louann walked into the studio wearing a bright red dress with ruffles at the hem, her matching heels clicking against the floor. Certainly a bold look, but she caught everyone’s attention right away.

"Circle please, my dears! I want to see everyone’s lovely faces!" she declared, her voice as loud as her outfit. "Since this is a large class, we’ll skip over introductions, which is a shame because I’m extremely nosy and like to know as much about people as possible."

This brought on chuckles and laughs from the other people in the class. You liked Miss Louann already.

"If you currently do not have a partner, please raise your hand so I can pair you up. Now, the person you’re partnered with may rotate, depending on the number of people in the class,” she said, “but if you don’t mind being paired with a person of the same gender, I certainly don’t have any objections. C’est la vie!"

You lifted your hand. You didn’t care whether you were paired with a man or woman, truth be told. Miss Louann busied herself with partnering people up, while the couples who’d come together took their places on the floor.

"Your name, dear?" she asked when she walked up to you.

"Y/N," you answered.

"Y/N, let’s see which of these bums is good enough for you, hm?" she joked as she scanned the men standing around without a partner. There were a handful more women than men in the class, but some of the girls seemed to know each other already and paired up anyway.

Miss Louann’s eyes lit up, and she waved her manicured hand. "Frank, dear, you’ll be Y/N’s partner."

Frank gave you a warm smile as he walked over to you. He was handsome, with a boy next door look that immediately endeared you to him. Not as handsome as Elvis. You shook the thought from your mind. He was the last person you wanted to think about.

You and Frank stood next to each other as Miss Louann explained the basics of Latin dance, having studied it as she lived in various parts of South America before the Depression. Even then, she said that the style was diverse, ever evolving, that you could never truly stop learning. She demonstrated a simple dance to start, one to get everyone into the rhythm of the music and dance style.

"This first class isn’t about how good you are. I want you to have fun tonight," she said. "Now get to it!"

You turned to face Frank, who held his hand out for you.

"Sorry in advance if I trip you up," he said.

"I’ve never done this before either, so no judgment," you said.

During your dance together, Frank confessed over Nat King Cole’s cover of ‘Quizas quizas quizas’ that he joined the class to get his mind off of a recent breakup with his longtime girlfriend. You quickly divulged that you were there for almost the exact same reason. Strangely, you felt comforted knowing you were lonely, but certainly not alone. You spoke with Frank as you danced, getting to know each other better. While he told you that his ex was named Cynthia, you didn’t tell him your ex’s name. After all, how many guys named Elvis were walking around?

The class ended far too soon for your liking, but Frank offered to drive you home, which you gladly accepted. You knew how it’d look to have a guy dropping you off at your place late at night, especially one you’d only just met, but for the first time in weeks, you arrived home in a good mood. Your parents were visibly relieved when you walked in with a smile on your face, chattering on about how fun the class was. They’d expressed concern for you, but you’d brushed them off, wanting to wallow and mope instead. It was nice having something to look forward to again.

You ended up becoming friends with some of the people from your dance class, much to your delight. While none of you were trying to make it professionally as dancers, it was fun getting together to practice at the nearby park and then go out to eat or get drinks afterward. Even though everyone came from different backgrounds, you at least had the dancing that brought you together.

You and Frank especially grew close, spending more and more time with him outside of class. Usually the two of you would find a diner that was open 24/7, spending hours talking over baskets of fries and glasses of milkshakes. You felt validated knowing that your response to the breakup wasn’t an overreaction, that he’d felt the same hurt and betrayal you did and sunk into a hole of loneliness and depression he never thought he’d claw his way out of. His ex-girlfriend Cynthia had cheated on him with one of his best friends, just as Frank was saving up to buy a ring and propose to her. He spent the money on the dance class instead. 

He spoke about Cynthia the same way you did Elvis, a nostalgic bitterness at the heartache, unable to even appreciate the memories of the good times without falling to pieces, and the knowledge you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if given the chance. Frank was honest and sensitive, and you found yourself developing a bit of a crush on him from how much you’d opened up to each other in just a few weeks of being friends.

One night, when your parents were out late, he brought over a new album of assorted Spanish-language songs specifically for Latin dancing. What began as just listening to the album turned into impromptu dance practice, until during one particularly slow and sensual song, he boldly dipped you, kissing you sweetly and softly. It was like a scene out of a movie, and definitely not unpleasant, but you didn’t feel anything like when Elvis kissed you, where it seemed like nothing was real except you, him, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

From the disappointed expression on Frank’s face, you could tell the kiss didn’t live up to his expectations either. 

"Do you still love him?" he asked softly.

"Yeah,” you answered. “Do you still love her?"

"Yeah."

You sat down on the worn-out living room couch with him. "You know how he broke up with me to focus on his career," you said.

He nodded. You trusted him, but you didn’t want things to change between the two of you if he knew who your ex was. "Well, up until about two months ago, I was in a two year relationship with Elvis Presley."

"You’re kidding. The guy who does the thing with his hips and all that? I think one of my sisters has a poster of him in her room."

You laughed. "He sings too. Just when he started getting really famous, he dumped me. Said it was better for business if he was single, or something," you recounted sadly.

"I’m sorry, Y/N," Frank said. "I like you a lot, but if you’re not ready to be in a relationship, I’m happy to stay friends. I don’t think I am either, to be honest."

"Thank you, Frank," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "You’re a good kisser, by the way."

"Good to know," he said with a smile.

Things were going well, you were nailing the new dances Miss Louann taught, so much so that you and Frank spoke about signing up for the intermediate class together. 

You’d be glad to keep going to Miss Louann’s, and especially to spend more time with Frank. You did hang out with some of the other people from the class on your own, but none of them seemed to understand you like he did.

During one of your days off from work, you were running errands before meeting with Frank. In the produce section of the local grocery store, you ran into Gladys Presley. You’d been avoiding the Presleys since Elvis dumped you. His parents had always been kind to you, and you knew they had nothing to do with the breakup, but it was still too close to him. 

You gave her an awkward smile, unsure how to respond when she went marching over to you. She engulfed you in a hug, kissing your cheek.

“Y/N, honey, how are you?”

“I’m good, Mrs. Presley,” you said. It was weird to call her that, early on in your and Elvis’ relationship, she said you could just call her ‘Mama’ too.

“She must really like ya,” Elvis had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face. 

Her expression fell a bit, “We miss seein’ ya around, but I understand, honey. And believe me, I raised my boy better than to do you like that. It’s that damn Colonel–”

“I know,” you assured her. “How have you been?”

“Well, worryin’ myself sick,” she sighed. “He calls but you know him. The Colonel’s got him workin’ like a dog and all the press does is say he’s some delinquent. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk so much. I have missed seein’ you, Y/N. You should come by for dinner sometime.”

“I’d love to, but I started taking a Latin dance class recently. Just to do something different,” you said with a shrug. “So I’ve been busy with that most evenings now. Some of us practice at the park up the street from the apartments.”

“That’s nice, honey. I’m glad you’re doin’ good.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Presley. It was great catching up with you.”

“You too, Y/N,” she said.

You walked down to an empty aisle to silently congratulate yourself for not breaking down when she mentioned him. Considering it a win, you treated yourself to a carton of your favorite ice cream, throwing it into the cart with a smile.

Meanwhile, in a roadside motel somewhere in Alabama, your ex-boyfriend was not having as good of a time of things as you were. He thought that the regret he felt at breaking up with you would go away, like the Colonel said, but he couldn’t get you off his mind, except when he was on stage. Even then, he found himself instinctively looking at the crowd for you. 

He had fans waiting outside of his motel rooms at all hours of the night, but he felt so deeply alone, like it threatened to consume him. He often found himself dialing the first few digits of your phone number before hanging up. It was a mistake. You were the one, and he blew it. 

During his frequent phone calls with his mother, he resisted the urge to ask about you, but this time he couldn’t help it. He was going home for the first time since he broke up with you, there to stay for a few weeks while the Colonel worked out his next album and supporting tour schedule.

"How’s uh—how’s Y/N?" Elvis asked.

"Y/N? You know, I ran into them at the grocer’s just the other day, and they said they started takin’ a Latin dancing class. We don’t see much of them anymore, though, Bewbie," Gladys said.

He sat on the motel bed, bewildered. He didn’t even know you liked Latin dancing, you’d never mentioned it once while the two of you were dating.

"Bewbie, you still there?"

"Yeah, I’m here, Mama."

"Darlene across the hall, she told me that she’s seen Y/N all over town with this boy they met dancin’. Think his name is Hank? No, Frank! And she said that she sees them dancin’ most every night at the park, you know the one right up the street here."

“Every night?”

“They sure are.”

"Well, I’ll be home for the next few weeks. Maybe I could see them there.”

"Bewbie, I love you, but the way you broke that sweet thing’s heart? I thought I raised you better."

"Mama, the Colonel said—"

"I don’t give a damn what that man said! A person’s heart is not somethin’ to be toyed around with, ‘specially not one like Y/N’s," she said, before letting out a wistful sigh. "Y’all woulda given me the cutest little grandbabies."

"Mama, c’mon," Elvis groaned.

"You made your choices, now you gotta live with it," she said. 

He quickly ended the call, lying back on the motel bed as he processed what his mama said. You going out dancing, and with a new guy at that. He couldn’t just sit around at home next week knowing he had the chance to make things right. 

Of course, it was near chaos when he arrived home. He could hardly get to the front door of the apartment building, and was stuck signing autographs until his mama pulled him inside, shouting for everyone to go away. It was nice to be home, in his own bed and eating home-cooked food, but he kept looking at the clock, wondering what time you’d be likely to go to the park. 

Around 8, he told his family he was going out. His mama gave him a warning glare, which he tried his best to ignore as he left. He was glad to find the emergency exit of the building open, so he could slip away without causing another scene with the handful of fans who were still waiting outside for him. 

The park wasn’t far, only a few blocks from where he lived. The night air was cool and refreshing against his skin as he walked. 

He noticed a dozen or so people sitting around one of the empty basketball courts. An older looking couple had a portable record player with them, along with a stack of albums. From a few yards away, he could hear the sound of an upbeat salsa tune, and watched as a couple began to dance. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on what he knew to be you, sitting awfully close to a man. You were focused on the dancers, whispering to the man you were sitting next to every so often.

Elvis moved through the shadows, getting closer to where the group was. He leaned against a nearby tree, hoping to remain undetected by you until he could get you alone. 

“Y/N, Frank, you go next,” a young woman called out, appearing to startle you.

“Gracie, do you just like to put me on the spot?” you joked, the rest of the group laughing and making their own comments in response.

“I don’t wanna catch you slackin’, Y/N,” Gracie said with a mischievous smile.

Elvis felt his chest tighten at the sound of your laughter. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. 

You walked under the soft glow of the streetlamp, hand-in-hand with who he could only assume was Frank. You were nervous, he could see the tics from a mile away. Your eyes never left Frank, though. Instead, you put your hand on his shoulder, and he placed his on your waist. A few silent moments later, the song began to play out. He recognized it vaguely. Perfidia.

He was stunned at the way you moved. Confident, graceful, in tune with the music and your partner. He slunk down against the tree, guilt and jealousy washing over him. He could remember when you used to look at him the way you did Frank, like there was no one else in the world but him. 

The group clapped for you and Frank, who you hugged tightly. You looked up from the hug to see Elvis standing alone, a few feet behind the group. You blinked rapidly. It had to be a dream, there was no way he was actually there. You had no idea how he’d even know about it, until you remembered you told his mother, who told him pretty much everything.

As you and Frank moved along for the next duo to practice, Elvis walked up to you. You stiffened, squeezing Frank’s hand. Elvis felt a pit in his stomach, did you hate him that much?

“Y/N, I—how are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you answered coolly. “Elvis, this is my friend Frank. Frank, this is Elvis.”

Frank stuck out his free hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Elvis said, giving Frank a half-hearted handshake. “You were incredible,” he said, looking at you.

“Thank you.”

"Can I talk to you?" he asked. "Alone?"

You looked to Frank, who nodded, staying behind to watch the next couple dance. You and Elvis silently made your way to another one of the empty basketball courts, the lamp illuminating that court flickering every so often. Shifting uncomfortably, you avoided eye contact with him.

"I didn’t know you dance,” he said.

"That’s because I didn’t, not until a few weeks ago.”

“If I’d known you wanted to dance I woulda—”

"Why did you come here tonight, Elvis?" you snapped.

He scratched the back of his head. "See, I was thinkin’ maybe we could give us another chance. I miss you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have broken up with you.”

You shook your head. Weeks ago you would have jumped at the chance to get back together with him. It wouldn’t be fair to Frank to go back to Elvis so easily, not when you and Frank had been trying so hard to get over past your relationships. You wanted to so badly, though. You still loved him.

"You can’t just come back here and say that. It’s been two months, Elvis. I have something good going with Frank."

"Frank? Darlin’ you only met him a few weeks ago,” he argued in exasperation. “He don’t know you like I do."

"And whose fault is that? Elvis, you made it clear I didn’t have a place in your life anymore."

"Y/N, please, I’ll do anything to get ya back."

"Can you just leave?" you asked, getting choked up by the words you’d dreamed him saying over and over for weeks.

"No, I did that before, and it’s the stupidest mistake I ever made."

"Look, I have to go. Congrats on the new single," you said, running off of the court and back over to Frank.

"Hey, are you alright?" Frank asked, putting his arm around you.

"He said he wanted to get back together," you said, your breath shaky. "That it was the stupidest thing he ever did, breaking up with me. I wanted to just say yes, but—"

"I know," he said softly. "If Cynthia did the same thing, I think I’d go back."

You sniffled. "We’re a couple of idiots, huh?"

"Seems like it," he said. “We’d be perfect together if it weren’t for that.”

You laughed, putting your head on his shoulder as he walked you over to the group, where you said goodbye before leaving with him in his car. Elvis watched the display of affection you showed Frank, feeling jealous yet again. 

He shouldn’t have followed Frank’s car back to your place, he knew that. But seeing Frank walk you up to your front door, the two of you talking quietly for a few moments before you kissed Frank’s cheek, bidding him goodbye made Elvis feel like lava was running through his veins. It wasn’t even a real kiss, but he punched the steering wheel in frustration nonetheless.

He watched as you walked into your house, turning to wave at Frank one more time from the doorway before heading in. Frank lingered on the doorstep for a moment before going back to his car. As Frank pulled away, Elvis wondered what was so special about Frank. You’d only known him for a few weeks, but it seemed like you were close. Did he treat you right? Did he think about you all the time? Did he love you?

Elvis hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting in his car until he glanced down at the clock on the car dashboard. Chewing his bottom lip, his eyes moved back and forth from the keys in the ignition to your darkened bedroom window. Finally, he grabbed his keys and got out of his car.

He stood on your front lawn, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to get up to your room. He’d never sneaked in through your bedroom window before, your parents had liked him enough that they let him come in any time of day. Now, he figured if he knocked on the front door, your dad would kill him. 

The lattice on the side of the house went only halfway to your room, which meant he’d have to grab a tree branch and maneuver over. He’d do it, though. You were worth the possibility of falling out of a tree and breaking his neck.

You were half asleep when you heard tapping on your bedroom window. Ignoring it as the wind, you closed your eyes—until you heard the window sliding open. You sat up, reaching for the lamp on your nightstand, ready to shout for your parents.

“Y/N? You up?” Elvis said before climbing through the open window.

“Elvis Aron Presley, get the hell out of my bedroom! What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, throwing a pillow at him.

“Somethin’ wild and spontaneous to show my love for you?” he offered weakly. “I had to see ya, Y/N. The past two months have been miserable. I can hardly sleep because I spend so much time thinkin’ about you. Food don’t even taste the same. It’s like everything got the good taken out of it. Maybe I deserve that much, but I’d do anything for a second chance.”

“A second chance,” you repeated. “You made me feel like no one could love me, and just when I thought I could make something work with Frank, you come back here and ask me to trust you to not put me through that again.”

“Darlin’, I swear on my life I won’t.”

“How could you do that to me? Like I didn’t even matter! Like I wasn’t there where you were still that kid too afraid to sing with the lights on! And the fact that you let some stranger talk you into dumping me like I was last week’s garbage. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I could barely function for weeks! Then I meet someone who has the same hurt I do, and now you want me to hurt him? Who do you think you are?” you ranted, finally taking a breath.

“Tell me you love him. If you tell me you love Frank, I promise I won’t ever bother you again,” he said.

Your lip trembled. You wanted him to feel as dejected as you had, say it just for spite, but you couldn’t do it. Perhaps part of you did love Frank, but you knew you’d never be completely happy together. Not when he was just as hung up on Cynthia as you were on Elvis, no matter how hard either of you tried.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you, crying into your shoulder. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s going to be a while before I can really trust you again though.”

Lifting his head, he nodded, tears tracked down his reddened cheeks. “I’ll earn it back. I’ll make sure you can be on tour with me. I’m gonna tell the whole world you’re mine, album sales be damned.”

“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you scoffed, knowing the Colonel wouldn’t allow it.

“First thing in the morning, I’m callin’ every newspaper and radio station in the city myself,” he promised. “Hell, I’ll walk right into one of those tattoo parlors on Beale Street and get your name over my heart.”

You smiled, putting a hand on his chest. “Easy, cowboy. Papers and radio are fine for now.”

He nodded. “I wish I’d known you wanted to dance,” he said, repeating his sentiment from earlier. “You looked so graceful.”

“I didn’t before,” you answered honestly, “but thank you.”

He got up from your bed, leaving you confused as he looked through your record collection. It had changed since he was last in your room. Previously blues and gospel albums outnumbered any other genre, but the Latin music was getting close.

“What are you trying to find?” you asked.

“Somethin’ good, so you can show me how to dance with you,” he said.

“You don’t know what to look for,” you said, getting up from your bed. It didn’t take you long to grab a single that you knew would be perfect. I’m in the Mood for Love. 

In whispers, you explained the steps to him, trying to remember what Miss Louann had demonstrated on the first day of class. The two of you giggled over the soft music while he tried to follow your instructions. 

“C’mon, Elvis, I know you don’t have two left feet,” you teased.

“Hard to concentrate when I got such a beautiful partner,” he said, almost bashfully. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you said. “But you have to dip me.”

“Dip you?”

“You know, tilt me back while we’re dancing,” you explained while dropping the needle back at the beginning of the song.

“I can do that,” he said, holding out his hand for you.

He did well remembering the steps, the two of you dancing in an intense silence. At the perfect moment, the one you were thinking of, he dipped you back, his soft lips meeting yours. This time, it was magical, perfect even. You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. When you pulled away, looking into his eyes that shone with nothing less than adoration, you knew you made the right decision.

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D 

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips. 

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold. 

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner: 

Tom Holland. 

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare. 

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips. 

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom. 

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement. 

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning. 

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder. 

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed. 

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile. 

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you. 

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic. 

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about. 

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.” 

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.” 

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer. 

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe. 

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace. 

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall. 

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party. 

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it. 

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously. 

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠  next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description 

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 3

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

A/N: INTRODUCING: I.N.tentional: Intentional, but told through I.N.'s POV! give it a read! itll take 1 min tops!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon​ @hvunvely​ @fluffybitch0325​ 

last thing: welcome back hyunjin I missed you! skz ot8!

“Y/n,” his low and steady voice echoed around the pillars of the parking lot, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my friend.” You simply answered, slowly taking short steps backwards. It was best to not tell anybody that Yoojin was injured.

“Is she here? I’ll help you find her.” His eyebrows furrowed as he took quick strides towards you.

“No- that’s- it’s okay. I’m uhm, I’ll just try finding her myself.” You clenched your shaking fists. “Thank you for offering though.” You quickly added, not wanting to come off as rude to your boss.

“Y/n. Why do you keep avoiding me?” Manager Kim grabbed your shoulder with one hand. You felt the tips of his fingers dig through your jacket. The blend of cigarettes and cologne wafted past your nostrils.

“Manager Kim, please, I really need to get going.” You begged as you heard your voice start to waver. Why couldn’t the word ‘stop’ just come out of your mouth?

Manager Kim didn’t seem to care as he simply pressed his fingers harder on your shoulder, tightening his grip. He took a step closer, tipping his head down to look at you as he exhaled through his mouth. The stench of cigarettes became stronger.

“Yesterday, on your first day, I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Y/n, I am your boss. Stop avoiding me.” He spoke through clenched teeth. His words became quieter and quieter as his monologue progressed.

You had no idea what to do. It was obvious by now that Yoojin wasn’t in this parking lot as you would have heard her by now. The sun was setting fast, and the lot was basically empty, save the lot attendant — who was busy watching a movie on his phone when you first spoke to him. However, this attendant was your best bet. If you somehow managed to run past him, Manager Kim would most likely stop following you. This was your plan.

You quickly slipped out of your jacket, catching Manager Kim off guard. He lost grip of your shoulder, and the only thing he had a hold on was your now discarded jacket. Then, you made a run for it. You had only caught a glimpse of Manager Kim’s irate expression before adrenaline filled your muscles once again.

“Oh, you don’t run from me this time.” You heard him drop your jacket, then soon after, footsteps.

You didn’t have time to fixate on his movements as your only goal at the moment was to reach the attendant. You ran and ran, and after a short while, you saw the attendant’s post.

It was apparent that Manager Kim also noticed that there was another person nearby because you heard his footsteps gradually slow down and then come to a halt. However, you were too scared to turn back to confirm your suspicions and just kept running. Once you reached the front entrance of the parking lot — where the attendant was — you slowed down your running to make it appear as if nothing had happened. God knows the amount of slander you would’ve gotten in the office if you had gotten Manager Kim in trouble.

You tried to keep yourself composed as you left the parking lot, however, nothing could stop the uncontrollable shaking of your hands and the erratic beating of your heart. Once outside, your brain was in jumbles — what the hell just happened?

The wind nipped at your skin as you sprinted towards the familiar blue building. It was the only place you could think of to hide as you wait out Manager Kim. Usually, the man acted polite, if not a little standoffish, but there was something so sinister about his voice tonight that gave you an uncomfortable chill.

Finally nearing your office building, you held it out for a final push as you hurriedly entered the front doors. As soon as you were inside, you felt the adrenaline reach your body. You put your hands on your knees for support as you tried to catch your breaths. You still couldn’t process what just happened with Manager Kim.

“Y/n.” A hand touched your shoulder.

Instinctively, you flinched and wrapped your arms around your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” The hand immediately fell off your shoulder. You recognized this voice. It was Bang Chan.

It might have been the wave of relief rushing through you — or that you started to process what had just happened — but as soon as those words left his lips you couldn’t contain the tears rushing out of your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You sniffed, turning away from him to wipe your tears away. It was so embarrassing that you were crying in front of somebody you just met. Moreover, you could sense people in the building starting to stare.

Bang Chan looked at you in confusion for a moment. “Did you want to take a walk? We can find a quieter place you can uhh…” He drifted off towards the end, scratching the back of his neck.

You simply nodded your head. Bang Chan gestured for you to follow him whilst making sure to keep his distance from you. You stared at the back of his hoodie as you mindlessly followed him in silence. He meandered through the building halls naturally and confidently, like he had been here his whole life. You sped up your steps to walk beside him, scared that somebody would somehow snatch you from behind. Bang Chan turned his head to check on you before continuing his trek.

He led you towards the familiar elevators that you took every morning so far, but this time, he pressed the button of an unfamiliar floor. This elevator ride was shorter than what you were used to, however you still felt the floating sensation that came with every elevator ride.

The elevator dinged, letting you know that the two of you had arrived. Bang Chan’s arms gestured for you to get off first, and so you did. He got off after you and started leading you to his destination. You walked in silence with your arms still crossed over your torso.

He kept up his pace, and soon, stopped in front of a door. Using a key card to unlock the door, he opened the door for you to go in first.

Although it was cozy, the room was small. With a desk on one side and a single black couch on the other, it was clear that this room wasn’t meant for a lot of people. You looked at the walls. Green, strange.

“Hold on, lemme just…” Bang Chan mumbleded as he rushed past you to the couch and tossed a shirt and an opened bag of chips out of the way. “Here, you can sit.”

You sat down. “Thanks.” You rasped.

“Did you want some water?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” You replied in a quiet voice, not wanting him to see that you cried — although it was really obvious by now.

He left in a flash, leaving you alone in the room. At least the door is locked. You thought.

The unnerving silence of the room left you alone with just your thoughts. Thoughts on Manager Kim, on how you cried in front of Bang Chan, of Yoojin. Yoojin!

You pulled out your phone and found yourself filled with worry again. You quickly dialled her contact number.

“Y/n?” A voice picked up in an almost confused manner.

“Yoojin, thank god. Are you okay? I went to where you said you were and couldn’t find you.”

“Oh my god, Y/n!” She suddenly bursted out. “I’m so, so sorry. I messed up the parking lot I was in with yours! I’m the world’s dumbest person. I don’t deserve your friendship.”

“Yoojin, it’s okay, mistakes happen. And friends always help each other.” You try to calm her down. “As long as you’re safe right now.”

“I am, thank you Y/n.” She sniffled. “But, you didn’t run into any trouble trying to find me right?”

You decided not to tell her about Manager Kim. She had a long day already, what with her injury. “I didn’t. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” she said, “alright. In that case, I’ll go get some rest now. Goodbye Y/n.”

“Bye Yoojin, I hope you get well soon.” You hung up.

With Yoojin being safe, you had one less worry on your plate. However, now that you weren’t consumed by your worry for Yoojin, the only thought that you had was the looming threat of Manager Kim. What if he was still looking for me? You thought. What if he tries this on me again? What if I get fired?

The dark thoughts started to overwhelm you so much to the point where you couldn’t control your tears again. You put your face in your hands, silently begging yourself to stop crying. You were scared. Scared for your future, your safety, and your reputation.

“This place is so big, you’d think they’d place a few more vending machines…” Bang Chan abruptly interrupted your thoughts.

You flinched, startled.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me.” He had that boyish grin on his face as he unscrewed the lid of the plastic water bottle before handing it to you.

You accepted the water and took a sip. “Sorry, I’m just—” You were scared to finish that sentence. If Bang Chan knew how rude you were to his boss, he could get you fired as well.

Bang Chan looked at you in confusion for a couple of seconds. “You know,” He started, “you don’t have to tell me what happened, but I’m here for you. We’re friends, remember?” He sat on the chair at the desk.

“Thank you, Bang Chan.” You smiled at him. “I appreciate it.”

“You have a nice smile.”

“What?” You knitted your eyebrows.

Bang Chan cleared his throat. “Nevermind, umm, do you wanna see what I’m working on?”

“Umm, sure.” You replied awkwardly.

Bang Chan got out of his chair and turned it around for you to sit in, which you did. He turned the chair around to face the monitor and leaned over you to log in to his computer. His bangs flopped in front of his eyes.

“This was that song I was talking about yesterday.” Bang Chan pressed a button, and a sound started to emit from the complicated looking software. It was a simple but nice beat, although all the audio clips and millions of random colours on the screen seemed to contradict that.

“There’s so many options on the screen, how do you know what you’re doing?”

“Honestly, it takes time to get used to. I’m still not sure what some of these settings do.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you wanna try it out?”

You nodded your head, eagerly. You had never seen something like this before. Bang Chan reached over you to take hold of the mouse. He scrolled through hundreds of folders before opening the one he was looking for.

“These are just random audio clips I usually use in songs,” he said, “you can drag them on the screen and it’ll be added in the song.”

You dragged a random audio clip to where he said so and clicked play. The song played, but with a very loud and badly timed bass in the middle. The both of you laughed, and you started to add more random clips to the song. Soon, the song became so cluttered with your add-ons that it started sounding unrecognizable.

“It’s so bad.” You laughed, turning your head around. Bang Chan was already looking at you. His expression was unreadable. You looked back at him.

Silence.

After a moment, you realized that you were just looking at him with no words. You cleared your throat, turning back to the monitor. “What if I add this one?”

You dragged a random audio to the beginning of the song and played it. As soon as the song started, the audio clip interrupted everything else. It was an incredibly loud audio of Bang Chan yelling ‘Stray Kids’. The two of you bursted out laughing.

The two of you stayed in that room for hours, just playing around on his editing software and with his equipment. He showed you how he made new songs, and how he would use his mic and keyboard to add to them. You even asked for him to play you some of the old songs he published. It took a long time to convince him, but he embarrassingly complied. The two of you were having so much fun with music that you did not realize how late it was until you remembered to check the time. That seemed to be a recurring incident for you.

“It’s getting kinda late,” you said. “I should go, I have work tomorrow.”

Bang Chan agreed, “I’ll walk you out.”

And so, you gathered your bag and followed Bang Chan out of his little office to the elevators. The two of you rode the elevator in silence, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to make any small talk, nor fiddle your thumbs.

You continued your way out, finally exiting the front doors of the building. However, you came to instantly regret that as a gust of wind hit your bare skin, eliciting a shiver from you. Of course, you didn’t have your jacket. It was lost in the midst of your run-in with Manager Kim. You reminded yourself to look for it tomorrow.

It seemed that Bang Chan had noticed. “It gets cold fast here this time of year,” he shrugged off his hoodie. “Here, you can take this.”

“No, it’s fine, really.” You said. “I don’t live too far anyways.”

“You can’t catch a cold on your first week of work,” he said, “I would feel guilty.”

Bang Chan shoved his hoodie in your hands. It seemed like he wasn’t going to budge on his decision, so you shrugged it on. It fit very loosely — the hem of the hoodie reached your thigh and you had to roll the sleeves up quite a bit to expose your hands. It was warm though. And it smelled like him.

“Thanks,” you looked at your shoes, “for this and everything else.”

“Don’t thank me,” he flipped your hood around so it wasn’t inside-out. “Friends, right?”

“Right,” you nodded. “I’ll get going now.”

You waved to Bang Chan and started on your way home, feeling much better than what you had felt earlier this evening. The journey home didn’t feel as dangerous as before now that your mood was lifted. The looming worry of facing Manager Kim eventually was still in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thought away as best as you could.

The train ride was soon over, and your walk home was very quick as well. Everything seemed to go so smoothly when you were confronted with imminent danger. You quickly entered the passcode to your lock and safely got in your apartment. You put your bag down and looked over to your kitchen. I didn’t even eat dinner yet.

It was already so late, but all you had in your kitchen were eggs and ramen. It wasn’t healthy, but it was something. You reminded yourself for the second time since yesterday to go grocery shopping. Maybe on the weekend.

You were busy cooking your ramen when you received a text on your phone. Looking over the counter, you read the text.

Bang Chan: Did you get home safe?

You typed a reply.

Y/n: Yup ^^ making ramen right now

Bang Chan: Ramen? I’m jealous TT

Bang Chan: I’m on a diet but when I’m off I’ll eat 5 packs of ramen everyday

You giggled at the text and typed a reply. Then he replied. Then you did, then he did again. Your back and forth went on for the rest of the night, even as you ate your ramen and brushed your teeth, only ending as you fell into a deep slumber.

The next day was an important one for you. Amongst all the other tasks you had given to you, you were to hand in the notes that you’ve been taking from others. This was especially nerve wracking, however, as you were to also pitch Bang Chan’s idea to Manager Chen.

Before you left, you remembered to bring Bang Chan’s hoodie. You quickly folded and stuffed it in a random bag. On your way to the office, you couldn’t help but feel it in the pit of your stomach. The anticipation of officially pitching ideas to your boss. Also, not to mention the possibility of running into Manager Kim again. You weren’t excited at the premise of that.

You decided to finish all your tasks before pitching all the ideas to Manager Chen. Plus, you wanted time to double check that you had all your notes together too. You straightened yourself at your desk, and with that, you started working.

It was tiring, but honest work. You worked hard today, only making time to take a lunch break. You found yourself smiling at your phone while eating your sandwich when you saw a picture of Bang Chan’s ‘diet lunch’ he sent to you. You took big bites of your food, happy that you didn’t need to diet.

Finally, after a long day of work, the time came to report to Manager Kim. You grabbed your notebook with both hands and slowly shuffled towards her office. Stopping in front of her door, you took a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” she said.

You opened the door, walked inside, and placed your notes on her desk. “Hello Manager Chen. I know this is too early to be giving you my notes, but somebody submitted a really promising idea.”

Manager Chen took your notebook to read through it, her hand on her chin. You listened to the ambient silence of the room. She was focused on your notes, nodding a few times as she flipped the pages. She cleared her throat, and you stared at her with wide eyes, giving her all your attention.

“You’re right. This content does look promising. It would be a bit rushed, but if we quickly start on it, we could produce it in time.” She gave you a look whilst handing your notebook back. “Type this up and make photocopies of it. This will be one of the main points of our Friday meeting tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Manager Chen.” You tried to keep a straight face when taking leave.

Hands clenched on your notebook, you briskly walked past all the cubicles over to the washroom. You tried to keep a straight face in front of your coworkers, but as soon as you entered the washroom, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.

“Yes!” You whisper-yelled.

Your fingers immediately went to your phone to text Bang Chan, but you decided to hold onto that idea. It’ll be a surprise tomorrow, you thought. Instead, you chose to send a text to let him know that you had his hoodie.

Y/n: Are you in the building? I have your hoodie.

The reply was almost immediate.

Bang Chan: I stayed at the dorm today, you keep it for now haha

You assumed he was simply tired from all the work he had. There were probably multiple schedules and projects he had that were completely separate from the one you were working on. That is also probably why he works so late everyday. Not to mention being an idol was an all-day-everyday sort of career.

It didn’t take a long time to type up and print your notes. You finished your task by delivering the photocopies to Manager Chen’s mailbox, and since there was nothing else on your plate, you decided to head home.

On your way home, you reluctantly stopped by the parking lot building to look for your jacket. You asked the lot attendant and scoured through every corner of the lot. You had even tried to retrace your steps from yesterday, trying to block the memories of Manager Kim out on your search for your jacket. The search was thorough, but nothing came from it. That was a really cute jacket too, you sulked. Also, your lanyard was in the pocket of your jacket. You really did not want to apply for a replacement so early on in your time here.

You left the lot and left for the subway station, a little disappointed that a perfectly good jacket went missing. Although you knew it wasn’t your fault — and you certainly did not regret shrugging your jacket off to escape — it was still a shame that you lost it, now you had another thing to worry about.

At home, you had another ramen dinner along with some tea. Strangely, this was the only mundane night you’ve had since you started your job. You recounted your memories of the days prior. You cringed at your drunken activities from your first day and swore that you would never get drunk with strangers again. Tuesday wasn’t bad comparatively — it was the day you had coffee with Na-eun and Yoojin. And Bang Chan, of course. Yesterday was not a day you wanted to remember, although you did appreciate Bang Chan calming you down afterwards. He was a good friend.

Your night was slow. The majority of your time was spent mindlessly scrolling through social media, silently checking up on your friends back home. You also spent time texting Bang Chan. Somehow your conversations strayed from work-related over to movies, music, and everything in between. It was amazing how, despite being so busy, he still managed to stay positive. You admired that about him.

You started to get ready for bed. Before you went to sleep, you played scenarios of tomorrow’s meeting in your head, preparing yourself for what to say if anybody made you talk.

The next morning, you woke up bright and ready to go. It was the day of the long awaited meeting. That, plus it was Friday. You were nervous, but excited for today as this was the meeting where Bang Chan’s content idea could either be sent for production or tossed in the trash. All these thoughts were running loose around your head as you got ready to go to work. You dressed in your most expensive blouse and skirt whilst trying extra hard on your makeup.

You made sure to arrive at the conference room early so you had the option of choosing your seat this time. You weren’t about to take your chances like last time.

There were only a couple more people in the conference room who came early like you. You greeted them as you walked in, choosing to take a spot further away from them to avoid awkward interactions.

More people started to flow in as the meeting was getting closer to starting. You fiddled around with your pen, clicking it open and closed, when you noticed your friend come in. Bang Chan was again dressed in all black. He wore a beanie and a black hoodie that was almost identical to the one he gave you. He gave you a smile and a nod of the head before heading over to sit in the chair beside you.

“I had such a long morning,” he whispered as he placed a bottle of mango juice in front of you, “I love those kids, but sometimes…”

You mumbled a ‘thank you’ under your breath. “What happened?”

“One of them left a mess in the kitchen last night and didn’t bother to clean it,” Bang Chan rolled his eyes, “so I had to do it for them before leaving.”

“What are you, their father?” You giggled.

“More like their maid.” Bang Chan smirked.

The two of you kept up your small talk until you saw Manager Chen enter the conference room. A number of the employees, including you, greeted her. She returned your greetings and began the meeting. It seemed like Manager Kim wouldn’t be coming.

“Although this was meant to be a preliminary check up meeting, I want to bring up an idea that was submitted by one of our team members.” She started passing out the photocopies you made. “The idea was to film promotional content for our China project. Since the Mid-Autumn Festival is at the end of the month, if the majority of us agree to push forward with this, we should be able to plan, film, and produce this content in time.”

“Won’t we be short on time?” Somebody asked.

“I am confident that, if we rush the planning, we will have enough time for filming and production.” Manager Chen replied. “Now, what are some ideas that we have for this content?”

“We could turn making mooncakes into a competition,” you offered your idea. “They could spin it into something funny, plus, this competition could take up a lot of air time.”

Manager Chen nodded in response.

“We could go somewhere in the mountains to get a better shot of the moon,” somebody in production added. “We can also set up a lantern-making episode.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of even more brainstorming. Many ideas for the content were thrown out and you carefully listened to each one before making up your own opinion silently in your head.

Finally, it seemed like everyone’s brains were wrung dry as there were no more ideas being thrown out there.

“Now we can vote to either go ahead with this idea or scrap it. A show of hands for those who are in favour of this idea.” Manager Chen announced.

Hands went up. It was almost unanimous. You looked over at Bang Chan, eyebrows raised in surprise. He returned a similar look.

“Since the votes were overwhelmingly in favour of putting this idea into action, we will go ahead with the Mid-Autumn content.” Manager Chen looked over at the production members. “Our production crew will start planning right away, and hopefully, we can finish this project before the day of the festival.”

You were overjoyed. This is the first time you had say in a project like this. It was a nice feeling to be in a team and have your opinion valued.

Manager Chen ended the meeting soon after, and you said goodbye to Bang Chan, assuming he was busy for the rest of the day. You were also busy. You left the conference room and diligently started your tasks for the day.

At the end of the day, you were exhausted. The fact that it was a Friday afternoon just made you want to leave work even faster. As soon as it was time to leave, you rushed out of the office, not wanting to catch the afternoon rush hour.

The packed train ride felt so long as you just wanted to get home and rest. You soon arrived at your stop and hopped off before starting your walk to the apartment complex. The thought of jumping in your bed and doing nothing for the evening lingered in your head, making you walk just a bit faster. You hiked up the stairs, over to your door.

There was something placed in front of it.

It was your jacket. And it was completely ruined.

You slowly bent down, picking it up. It looked like somebody put a lighter over it. There were many burnt holes and tears on the jacket. Your heart rate sped up as you knit your eyebrows in confusion.

Standing up, you heard something fall out from your jacket.

It was your lanyard.

Drawn over your picture, in black sharpie, was a hoodie.

It was weird, yes, but what really made you feel nauseous were the two X’s drawn right where your eyes were.

[annab-nana]

Stay With Me - Colby Brock

When tagging along with the boys on a trip to London, you experience some crazy things when you’re alone in your room at the Langham Hotel.

@traphousedaily’s favorite snc series project with: @lonely-xplr, @sarcasmhadachild, @taradummy @reddesertcolbs, @reinad-snc, @cartiercolby, @colbylover99, @sunflowerwhoever, @xplrtrash, @goddess-of-time-and-magic, @xolbyz

A/N: This is my longest fic I have ever written, so if you like the longer fics, let me know! Also, this probably isn’t the best edited because I tried to get it out in a hurry so sorry about that haha

Warnings: some curse words; mentions of suicide, murder, and suffocation

Word Count: 4.6k+

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

“We’re going to England, brothas!” Sam shouted which was followed by excited squeals and scream from you, Jake, and Corey as Colby clapped beside you all. When you went to the party at Kian and Jc’s, you were not expecting your best friends to come up and surprise with such news. You giggled as you watched Corey prance around, saying “Oh my God” repeatedly, and Jake spew absolute nonsense of connecting Queen Elizabeth to Bloody Mary.

“Pack ya bags. We’re going to London, baby!” Sam spoke enthusiastically before covering the camera lens that Colby was holding with his hand. And from there, your crazy adventure with the boys began and you hand no idea what you were in for or how badly it would end.

...

After your suitcase was packed and you had your backpack on, you were ready to go to London. You were so excited to see a new place and considering you have never left the country, this was a whole new experience for you. After a ride in an uber and a plane, the five of you arrived in the capital of the United Kingdom.

“Are you guys gonna be safe driving on the opposite side of the road?” Jake questioned as we walked through the parking lot of cars.

“Oh,” Sam and Colby say together, though Colby’s ended with a ‘my God’.

“I didn’t even think about that,” Colby added as he walked backwards, facing the camera towards us.

“Look at the steering wheel, brotha!” Jake pointed to the steering wheel of a black car in front of you all and the wheel was in fact on the opposite side.

“Oh no! How are we gonna do this?” Colby questioned as we all looked at the car, thinking the same thing as the boy with reddened locks.

“I don’t know my right from my left,” Sam spoke in a horrid British accent that you could not help but laugh at.

“Alright, you’re gonna drive,” Colby told his counterpart as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” the blond sighed in defeat.

“This isn’t looking good,” you spoke to the camera that Colby held as you two watched Sam try to pull out of the parking spot. He already nudged Jake with the car and then tried to turn right when you can only go left. After a bunch more tomfoolery from the group, you all finally moved your stuff into the car and got in as well.

“Alright boys so-” Colby started to explain what we were doing but was cut off by Corey clearing his throat.

“And girl,” he scolded as he nodded his head in the direction of you.

“No, Corey. Y/n is one of the boys,” Jake butted in.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” you chuckled before turning your attention back to Colby so he could continue his explanation.

“Anyway, this is what we’re doing. We’re going to the Langham Hotel which is known as the most haunted hotel in the UK.”

“And also top ten in the whole world,” Sam added.

“Wait, are we going there or staying there?” Jake asked beside you. Your eyes followed from his to Colby’s to see his answer.

“Staying there.” Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at the two boys beside you. Corey giggled nervously and made jokes to hide his fear and you and Jake just laugh in disbelief.

“In our last series, The Origin, we talked to those guys like a demonologist and he says we’re a lot better at paranormal investigations than normal and he thinks we have a gift. So, this whole trip is trying to prove that our group is the best ghost hunters on YouTube and because of that, we are meeting with two paranormal experts who’ve been studying the paranormal and demonology for years and we’re doing an interview here in an hour,” Sam explained.

Jake appeared to be really excited to the right of you and on your left, Corey stayed quiet, which led you to believe he was kind of scared and trying to hide it. You felt a mix of both the emotions of the boys next to you. You were excited for the adventure like Jake was, but also a little scared like Corey since y’all were going to one of the most haunted hotels in the world.

...

“Hey, there it is,” Colby announced to you three in the back and the camera that he had pointed at the building before you guys.

“The Langham!” Sam shouted as he kept his eyes locked on the road, still trying to get used to driving on the other side of it. You all pulled up the hotel, got your bags, and headed inside in no time.

“So, we have a reservation under Golbach,” Colby started as he spoke to the man at the front desk.

“We put in a request. We don’t know if it was able to be fulfilled, but we’re trying to do room 333,” Sam asked the man in the grey suit, a maroon tie and handkerchief to compliment it. You and Corey shared a look after Sam mentioned the number 333, both knowing it did not sound good.

“Absolutely. You have been allocated in that room,” the front man told y’all and Colby turned to you three with an excited grin which you returned. The man at the front desk noticed your group’s excitement and smiled along with you.

“We heard online that room 333 was like haunted or something like that?” Sam mentioned, hoping to get some information from the clerk.

“Is this why you have the camera?” He grinned as he processed the transaction.

“A little bit, yeah,” Sam chuckled.

“There is the legend, yes,” he told you all as he focused on his work.

“Have you heard anything about that?” the blond pressed again.

“We can’t tell guests,” the clerk starts with a smile, but the grin soon drops as he nods his head. Something about the way he did that made you feel a bit uneasy.

“Do you believe in it personally?” Sam questioned as you all listened intently to what the man had to say.

“No. In one year that I’ve been here, I didn’t have any complaints and so on, but you can tell me. Just stay there with the camera, yeah?” he laughed as you all joined in, trying to relieve the awkward and weird tension.

...

“My name’s Sam. This is Colby, Y/n, Jake, and Corey. We’re filming for our channel, but these guys are always into it and woah.” Sam turned the camera to the large creak you all just heard coming from above him and Rosie, the lady you had just met who is a member of the ghost club. John, a guy from the council for the Society for Psychical Research, sat next to her. You sat on the couch nearest to him between Colby and Jake and Corey sat on the chair next to Sam across for you.

“We just rented out room 333. We haven’t even told them why that’s a significant number, but do you guys know much about room 333 here in the Langham Hotel?” Sam asked, filming the response from Rosie.

“Well, the story goes that a Victorian doctor spent the night in room 333 with his bride. It was his wedding night. Who knows the circumstances, but the story goes, he actually murdered his bride in room 333.” She pauses as y’all take in the information she had just given before she continues.

“So, fast forward now to 1973 and the journalist James Alexander Gordon was staying room 333 where he’s waking in the middle of the night and he said he saw a fluorescent ball of lights that slowly formed into the figure of a man, but there was something strange about this man. He was dressed in a full evening suit, very smart, but the bottom half, his legs, were actually missing. Now the journalist actually tried to speak with the figure, but the figure didn’t speak to him. He just walked towards with his arms open wide.”

“A famous cricketer, he was staying at the room and in the middle of the night, he was woken by the sound of taps turning on. He went into the bathroom. Water was gushing out through the tap.”

“Woah,” all of you say collectively as you think back on what happened to the boys previously. You didn’t go with them on that trip, but you heard the story several times and watched the video too. Sam fills in the woman in on the experience briefly before she can continue with her story.

“Anyway, he turned off the taps, went back to the bed, what he could hear was still the sound of running water, gushing out even though the taps were turned off.”

John nods along before speaking about a theory that ghosts are like a tape recording of traumatic experiences that just play over and over again. He explains that you can’t really interact with it because it’s always going on a loop. The theory piques the interest of the group to say the least.

...

After finishing the interview and exploring a bit of the beautiful town you were in, you all gathered around the camera as Sam gave some background on the hotel. He tells you all about a German prince who jumped from the building out the window and how the doctor from earlier killed his wife and himself afterwards, both stories happening in room 333.

Soon the camera is turned off and you all pile in the elevator to head to the third floor. The whole hotel has an unsettling vibe, especially with some weird and creepy paintings that are hung all around. There is a big one of a boy with creepy eyes right when y’all get off the elevator.

“Which way is room 333?” Corey asks a worker when y’all get to a hallway and do not know which way to turn.

“Oh… uh… room 333… it’s that way,” he speaks, dragging out each word and shuffling away in a weird fashion. You and Corey share a wide-eyed look before going to catch up with the rest of the group.

“This is the most haunted room in the most haunted hotel,” Colby tells the camera as he films Sam who is about to unlock the dreaded door. The key does not work on the first try or the second which scares you all, but thankfully, the third time’s a charm.

Sam pushes the door open to reveal the supposed haunted room. A bed sat in the center of it, a closet to the left and a desk to the right. Huge grey curtains covered the window and another door was next to it, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“It smells like old people,” Jake mentioned. “You know what that means? That means its haunted, bitch.” You and Colby giggled at the beanie boy as Sam and Corey were off in the other corner of the room. Colby mentions how tiny the room is as Corey says how that one of us could be standing where someone got murdered.

“Oh, we got three rooms. There is no way we can all share this bed,” Colby mentioned.

“Where are the other rooms at?” Corey asked as he stuffed his hands into his new hoodie that he got earlier when we were going around the city.

“Just down the hall,” Colby told him.

“Oh, so still on the most haunted floor,” Corey rolls his eyes and nods, accepting the fact that something bad might happen tonight.

...

You all left room 333 and headed to 324 where Corey and Jake would be staying to check the room out. Your room was next door, 323, and looked remarkably similar to 324. After exploring the rooms, y’all take on the hotel in its entirety, passing more creepy paintings and experiencing a door closing behind you without anyone around it, several vortexes, handprints on mirrors, immediate temperature changes, strange noises, and so on. The thing that freaked you out the most was Sam getting random headaches as you explored.

Back in room 333, you guys sat on the bed and Sam explained all the new ghost hunting gadgets they got, from the EMF reader to the dowsing rods. Sam says that with the dowsing rods, you can find basically anything you want.

“Anything?” Colby questions as he picks up the rods.

“Alright, where’s my girlfriend?” he asks and both rods point to you almost immediately. A blush scatters on your cheeks as you laugh it off.

“See guys, even the rods think you two should get together,” Jake tells the camera. Colby ignores the awkwardness between you two as he asks Corey how to effectively use the rods.

Y’all decide to begin the investigation, starting with the EMF reader. Corey brings it close to the hangers that made a noise and it moves up one green light. It lights up to orange in a few places on the right side of the bathroom which freaks you all out and y’all decide to set the EMF reader up in the bathroom since it got the most activity. You all put together that the bathroom is the only spot in the room that has a vortex and that it is exponentially hotter than the bedroom.

While Sam and Colby messed around in the bathroom, you, Corey, and Jake stayed in the bedroom to see if anything would happen in there while the cameras weren’t running in there at the moment.

“If there’s anything in here, can you please make the bed shake?” Jake asked into the air above him, trying to get whatever was out there to make the bed shake like they did earlier. At the moment, he was laying on the left side and you were on the right. Corey was next to you in the desk chair. You guys waited a moment for any responses and then you got one.

“We’re here,” you heard the raspy low whisper come from the closet.

“Please tell you heard that too,” you begged as you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest to comfort yourself. Corey nodded profusely in the dim lighting as Jake audibly answered ‘yes’. Corey dashed to the bathroom door to tell the other two.

“Hey, you good?” Colby asked you quietly as the other boys discussed what happened. Your eyes left the trio before meeting the blue ones that gave you such peace. He had placed a comforting hand on your back, his thumb rubbing it to soothe your nerves.

“Yeah, just freaked out. This place has been giving me an uneasy feeling all day, but I’m good.” You smiled up at him and he gave you a grin right back, one big enough for those adorable little dimples to pop out.

“Bro, if you guys lay on the bed, you will feel something with you,” Jake told Sam and Colby. You stood off the bed, allowing Colby access to lay on it. He handed you the camera, which you handed to Corey because you were not the best them and your hands were slightly shaky.

“When I was laying with him, we could feel it shaking,” you told the duo as they sprawled out on the mattress.

“You should turn off the light,” Jake told Corey and he did. It was just you five in the room alone with the darkness and all who inhabit it.

“Do you guys feel the bed shaking at all?” Corey asked, his voice right next to you.

“Maybe, barely,” Colby’s voice sounded in front of you.

“If the German prince or the doctor that killed his wife is in here, please shake the bed,” Sam asked nicely of the spirits that are presumed to be in the room with you guys. After a moment of silence, a stunned ‘woah’ fell from Sam’s lips.

“What?” Corey questioned as you heard him fiddling with the camera. “What? Bro, I can’t find the light.” Sam grabbed the green light grid thing and turned it on to provide you all with some sort of light.

“I felt it go back and forth,” Sam told us all as he kept his eyes on Colby to see if he felt anything too.

“You felt it? I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,” Colby sounded a little disappointed like he wanted to feel what you, Jake, and Sam had felt.

“It literally rocked bro,” Jake told the camera and you nodded your head in agreement. You all hung out in the bedroom, trying to figure out the green light grid and how else you all wanted to go about the investigation when Corey got a text from his little brother, Cambrey.

“Are you okay?” you asked Corey as he stared wide-eyed at his phone screen. The other boys turned to look at Corey to see why you asked him such a question when y’all were just chilling at the moment.

“Uhh yeah, Cam just texted me this: Hey so I just saw your new video and at the end of it when you were talking about in the part where y’all kept saying save me and you were wondering like what you should do, I just wanted to let you know I went to a psychic lady and she told me that I have powers to send ghosts to the other side lol. All I have to say is you are free to go to the other side and it helps them go through. I know this sounds really stupid but ever since I talked to her, I’ve been seeing giant black figures in my room every night and when I sleep, it feels like someone’s watching me.”

“What the fuck?” Sam comments as you all share looks between you guys.

“Wanna know what’s even freakier? Cam is fourteen right now and I was fourteen when I first saw the shadowman.” ‘Woah’s fall from the group around him as we take in the information and process what we’ve been told because it seems so surreal. You all talk about how to deal with this. Corey feels guilty and responsible for Cambrey possibly seeing the shadowman. You try to comfort him, but the heavy feeling that he is dealing with is something that you can’t help that much.

“Maybe it might be good if we call it a night,” Sam suggests to the group as you nod your head. Things are a bit tense right now and maybe just getting settled into our own rooms and stopping the investigation for now could ease it some.

“Let’s set our alarms for three or something like that, but I think it’s good to take a break for a minute and like relax and we’ll come back to this in a minute.” And that is exactly what you guys did.

“Are you gonna be good by yourself, y/n?” Colby asked before you left their room with Jake and Corey.

“Yeah, I should be but I might call you so that if I hear something, you might hear it too and so I don’t go crazy,” you chuckled as he smiled at you, the grin making butterflies flutter around in your belly. He nodded before you turned around and went to your room.

A sense of relief flooded your body when you walked into the room. You were still very creeped out by the hotel and the fact that you were on the most haunted floor of the most haunted hotel in the most haunted country in the world. You were happy you were no longer in the most haunted room, but the things that were happening in there freaked you out.

You went to your suitcase and flipped through your clothes until you found something to sleep in. You had packed mainly warmer clothes for sleepwear, but since room 333 was so hot and you were still burning up from it, you grabbed the one pair of shorts you brought and a tank top. You grabbed a hair tie from your backpack and went to the mirror, throwing your hair into a ponytail. After you brushed your teeth and got your charger out, you settled into bed and shot Colby a text.

Y/n: can I call you?

Colby: of course

“Hello?” you asked as soon as you hear the ringing stop.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice sounds so concerned and it makes you smile.

“Yes, Colby. I’m fine. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get tired?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t last long until you were about to conk out, so the two of you said your goodbyes and you placed your phone down on the bedside table. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you swore you felt the bed shake. You do not know why you said what you were about to, but you did.

“If there is anything there, can you make the bed shake again please?” A moment or two of silence passes before it does it again. The bed wobbles lightly beneath you.

“Okay so there’s something here,” you whisper to yourself. You try your best to shrug it off and go to sleep. You almost slip into a blissful sleep before you hear a whisper similar to the one from before.

“You’re not alone, y/n.” You immediately grabbed your phone to text Colby. You knew he would probably be in a deep sleep by now, but it was worth a shot.

Y/n: the bed shook in here

Y/n: and I asked it to do it again and it did

Y/n: then it whispered youre not alone y/n

After not seeing the bubble with three dots pop up, you decide to let your phone record audio while you sleep just to catch anything that might happen and set an alarm from three in the morning. Finally, you get to sleep.

You woke up with a jolt, a sweat on your forehead and the bed moving slightly beneath you.

“You’re not alone”

“We’re here”

“Come with us”

The whispers filled your head as you watched an outline of a guy appears in the hallway near your door.

“Colby,” you call out as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Sam? Jake? Corey?” you continue but not a peep comes from the man as he inches towards your bed.

“Seriously guys. Cut it out,” you chuckle, but he keeps coming closer and closer until he is right beside you. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but your hand falls through his misty form.

“Whoever you are, please leave. You aren’t welcome here,” you demand, but your voice falters at the end. You hear a loud maniacal laugh vibrate throughout your small room as the figure crawls on top of you.

His presence is suffocating enough, but when a hand comes up to your throat and clamps down, it becomes difficult to breath. You fear for your life as you try to pry the hands from your neck, but just like his body, you can’t grab onto them. Your fingers slip through his and there is nothing you can do about it. Tears seep out your eyes and black spots cloud your vision before all you can see is black.

“Y/n! Open the door! Y/n!” you hear the worried shouts of your friends. You look around and reach for the lamp to turn it on. Looking around, you see that you are safe. It was nothing but a bad dream. You hand flies to your throat and when you feel that there isn’t a misty hand closing in on it, a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

You sling the covers off your body and run to the door. When you open it, you are met with the concerned expressions and worried eyes of the four boys you loved most. Your tear-filled eyes meet the specific blues ones before you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his chest.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Sam asks as he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch unintentionally before muttering a ‘sorry’.

“You were screaming,” Jake added as he met your eyes.

“Really?” you asked, but based on how scratchy your voice sounded, you could tell it was true. “What happened?”

“Sam and I went to Corey and Jake’s room because Corey called us, but we heard you screaming and rushed over here. What happened to you?” Colby asked calmly above your head.

“Did you get my texts from earlier?” Colby nodded at your question. “I had a nightmare and the same whispers I heard earlier, I heard in my dream. And then this figure came up to me and try to choke me to death. I saw black and then woke up to you guys banging on my door,” you finished as the tears came back and you went back to hiding in Colby’s chest. His hand rubbed up and down your back comfortingly as he looked around at the other guys, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you muttered into his chest.

“You can come stay in our room,” you heard Corey offer.

“Or ours,” Sam suggested.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked the blue-eyed boy as you looked up at him.

“Yes. Sam, can I have the camera? I’ll start looking through the footage and you can go to sleep since you couldn’t earlier.” Sam handed him the camera that he had hanging by him side before the other three left to go back to their rooms.

“Was I really screaming?” You asked Colby as soon as you sat on the bed.

“Like you were being killed,” he told you. You grabbed your phone and began to listen to audio recording you started earlier. It is mainly quiet for the most part, just your soft breaths and sounds of you moving in your sleep. Then, you hear the whispers again.

“Listen to this!” you shout as you hand the phone to Colby. His eyes widen at the sound.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“That’s insane,” He told you as he handed the phone back to you. You get all the way to the end and do not hear any screams.

“There’s no screaming on this.”

“When did it end?” You check and the time that stares back at you freaks you out even more.

“3:33 a.m.”

“Here. Let’s put this away because you have been through a lot tonight and just chill out,” Colby suggested as he placed your phone down and pulled you closer to him. You settled yourself into his side and placed your head on his chest. He had one arm around you while the other laid on his stomach.

“I’m sorry we put you through this,” he muttered as he fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. I have had a lot of fun this trip and I don’t want it to end early because I had a bad dream. That’s all it was,” you tried to see the bright side of it all.

“That makes me feel better because I really do love you, y/n, and I’d hate to see you not come on another trip with us or stop hanging out with us because of this.”

“I love you too, Colby, and it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a bad dream to get rid of me,” you both chuckled as a comfortable silence fell over the both of you. You fell asleep in the safety of his arms and right there, you did not have another bad dream that night.

[virgojeons]

true love (jjk)

summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together. 

alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names

wattpad version here, ao3 version here

a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!

on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.

"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"

You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.

Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"

Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.

"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."

Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."

"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.

It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.

"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.

Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."

They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion. 

The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook. 

You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.

"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.

You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive. 

Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now. 

It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.

Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual. 

The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.

No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.

And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.

Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."

You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.

"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"

"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."

"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."

A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor. 

Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"

Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."

Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.

"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."

"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.

Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."

You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."

With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.

"Don't." You warn.

"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."

"I most definitely did not blush."

"You did. You still are."

"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."

"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.

"Stop."

"He likes you." He insists.

"He was just being polite." You defend.

"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."

This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."

He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."

Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.

"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."

For now.

"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."

As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.

It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book. 

You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted. 

Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.

He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.

The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.

It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.

Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"

"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.

And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.

Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."

"You'll be all over each other by next week."

"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.

Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.

Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.

The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference. 

His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.

You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.

You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.

promise not to say i told you so :///

Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.

On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening. 

Cute, you thought. 

He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.

He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.

"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."

He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.

"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”

Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"

You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.

A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"

You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.

And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.

You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"

Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."

There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.

"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."

You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"

"Baby, it's the 20th."

"Can I have a hint?"

Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."

You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.

Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night. 

It’s the trick that never truly runs its course. 

And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.

"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."

You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.

You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"

Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.

"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."

He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"

Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.

"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.

You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."

He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.

"The Polar Express!"

"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."

He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.

"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."

If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."

You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours. 

Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.

Made us some cocoa, you said.

He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.

I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.

Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.

And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"

You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"

He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.

"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"

You swallow. "I'm okay."

Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way. 

Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.

Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.

Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"

"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.

"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."

You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.

"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."

Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."

And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.

There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.

"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."

Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."

read part two here!

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Amare: Change Overnight

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~4.6k Rating: T with implied off-screen M activities Time Frame: First year of college? Maybe second? Dunno yet Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Oh gods, why would I think it to be a good idea to add another iron to a fire I’ve been struggling all year to keep hot enough to produce works worthy of posting? I blame the adorableness of the first several episodes of the Nijigasaki anime; the others have been awesome in their own right, but ideas for this started brewing early. So I guess I’m writing a Niji fic now as well.

Ughn… Ayumu felt her nose wrinkle and her brow furrow as a dull ache in her head filled her slowly waking consciousness. Is this what a hangover feels like? Karin and Emma had described the sensations to her a while back after a bunch of former school idol club members had gathered for a celebration of something. For some reason, Ayumu had feared it would be worse, but then again, she hadn’t had all that much to drink last night. At least not as much as the other two…

Last night hadn’t been the first time any of them had consumed alcohol during a celebration, but Ayumu was pretty sure it was the first time they had actually gotten drunk. Just what kind of beer had Yuu brought last night?

The three friends had gathered last night to celebrate Setsuna’s first single as a professional idol reaching Gold status in sales and the top of the Oricon charts for a week. Ayumu had cooked, Yuu had brought drinks and Setsuna was told just to bring herself as she was the one being celebrated. Not surprisingly, she still ended up bringing something anyway, signed CDs for her favorite fans. It all had been a fun night, not all that different from many other nights except the lack of studying and a particular focus on Setsuna and her accomplishment.

Ayumu’s vision was blurry as she opened her eyes, but the pink she saw indicated the duvet was hers so this was her bed. That made sense, as they had gathered in her room, which again, was fairly normal these days as it was typically the cleanest of the three.

Black. And green. Wait… was that…? Ayumu blinked a couple times in an attempt to focus. Sure enough, Yuu was asleep beside her. It wasn’t the first time her childhood friend had shared a bed with her, but Ayumu still felt a bit of heat gather in her cheeks from the proxim… wait… Yuu was closer than normal. A lot closer. So close, in fact, that…

Oh gods…

Ayumu repressed a gasp as she realized that what she was hugging in her arms was not one of her favorite stuffed animals, but instead, Yuu’s arm. Geez, now she would have to figure out how to let go without waking the other girl, lest she be teased about it. Slowly, and ever so gently, Ayumu began the process of detaching herself from Yuu. However, as she did so, she became aware of another sens…

Oh gods…

Why were neither of them wearing pajamas?!

The temperature of Ayumu’s cheeks reached a boiling point. What the…

Breathing. Senses still kicking in, Ayumu realized it wasn’t just Yuu’s and her own breathing she could hear. There was a third. All but forgetting the fact that she was still attached to Yuu, Ayumu pushed up on her shoulder and craned her neck just enough to…

Oh gods…

Setsuna was lying on her side, mirroring Ayumu’s position such that she assumed the part time idol was hugging Yuu’s other arm. And of course, she didn’t appear to be wearing pajamas either.

Heat was now spreading down Ayumu’s neck. What the heck happened last night?!

Ayumu squeezed her eyes shut as she focused her energy toward piercing the veil of fog in her mind and recalling any sort of details from the prior night.

After dinner, the three girls gathered together to watch a recording of one of Setsuna’s performances. Ayumu and Setsuna had leaned against Yuu in the middle to get a better view of Ayumu’s laptop screen. It hadn’t been the first time the three had squeezed together to watch something, usually anime or idol related videos. It was so common, in fact, that the three had developed an unspoken routine to rotate who got to be in the middle.

What was unusual last night was the alcohol and a heightened sense of… something… Ayumu still couldn’t quite put a finger on the exact emotion, though it had probably been a mix. There was the all too familiar feeling she got when Yuu and Setsuna became lost in their own world while she was stuck watching. Throughout the concert, Yuu bounced back and forth between giddy fangirl and keen-eyed but friendly critic while Setsuna lapped up both the praise and insight like a happy puppy.

Thankfully, Ayumu had at least been able to get in a compliment or two of her own and had received in return several of Setsuna’s signature smiles, the kind that could ignite any heart with line of sight. Ayumu often wondered if the idol had any idea as to the effect of those smiles and if she invoked them intentionally or if they were just a natural part of her charm; Ayumu suspected the latter.

Still, something had continued to bother Ayumi. She hated to admit it, but it was likely the fact that Yuu had been completely focused on Setsuna to the point it felt like she had all but forgotten Ayumu was even there. Not that this should have come as any surprise, that was just how Yuu was when she was hyper-focused on one of her interests. Quite frankly, Setsuna wasn’t all that different, and when the two shared a given interest, a geeky feedback loop consumed them and it was often tough to get them back to reality. And idols were one of those shared interests. Not that Ayumu could blame them as she herself remained a fan, particularly of Setsuna.

Ayumu couldn’t deny her jealousy when Setsuna thanked Yuu for her help with composing the single that just charted, particularly because Yuu had responded by pondering the possibility of getting an internship at the same production company, which Setsuna had thought would be a good idea. This of course would mean the two would be working together and likely grow closer, which had reminded Ayumu of the decision she had made and that she still needed to tell the other two.

But then something had changed. The concert came to an end and Yuu had sighed. Then, saying something about nostalgia, she had opened a new tab and pulled up a different idol video. Ayumu had been surprised when she was suddenly watching herself on screen. A younger, school idol version of herself, but still.

Immediately, Setsuna had cooed something about adorableness which Yuu followed up with something about cuteness, or had it been the other way around? Not that it mattered as Ayumu had already lost the battle in keeping down a blush by the time the other two came to an agreement about her being even cuter now. Ayumu had sworn, years ago, that someday she would react better to such compliments, but that day yet to come. Thus, as always, she had found herself a flustered mess as the other two showered her with adoration.

Perhaps it had been the booze. Perhaps it been the desire to react differently. Perhaps it had been just giving in to a long-repressed desire. Perhaps all three… or probably… no, most certainly all three. In any case, the next memory that came to her was that of leaning in and pressing her lips gently against Yuu’s cheek.

Yuu had giggled her name in response and looked like she was going to return the favor when Setsuna had leaned in to plant a kiss on her other cheek. Ayumu’s jealousy flared again, but instead of pushing Setsuna away, she had pulled… and kissed her fully on the lips.

Oh gods… it really had been her that initiated all… that… Ayumu held down an embarrassed whine as memories continued to bubble up from the hazy depths of her mind.

Ayumu had realized what she had done and tried to retreat, but Setsuna had grabbed her shoulders and pulled them both deeper into the kiss. At that point, Yuu said something Ayumu couldn’t fully recall, but it had caught the attention of the other two girls. They broke off their kiss, turned and descended upon her.

At that point, Ayumu had no idea whose hands or lips went where, but she remembered the sensations. And the passion. Yuu’s gasps. Setsuna’s whimpers. And both of their moans. And by the gods she remembered how much she had wanted more.

Ayumu opened her eyes to see her two closest friends still sleeping soundly beside her. More… she still wanted more. Of course she wanted more. Yuu and Setsuna were more than just her best friends, they were the two she loved more than anyone, or anything else. Yuu, her childhood friend, on whom she’d had a crush for years. And Setsuna, who ignited something within both of them and changed the course of their lives before joining them for the ride as if she had always been there.

The three of them were practically inseparable through their second and third years of high school. And now in college, they’d gone so far as finding a dormitory with three available rooms next door to each other to make it that much easier to be together outside of class.

But now things were more complicated. Why did she have to do that? Ayumu chastised herself for her behavior the previous night. She knew better. Love triangles don’t last. They can’t. And they never ended well for the childhood friend.

Ayumu sighed. She thought she had steeled herself to step away and allow Yuu and Setsuna to be a couple. And she was going to do it last night, but Setsuna made her announcement at breakfast and Yuu immediately suggested a celebration that night. There was no way Ayumu was going to be the one to ruin the mood. Even if she wanted them to be happy, she knew her friends would want to console her and that would just bring everyone down.

“Nnn…”

A quite voice dragged Ayumu from her thoughts.

“Ayu… mu?” Yuu murmured, turning unfocused emeralds toward her.

“G-Good morning, Yuu-chan.” Ayumu managed to get out with minimal stuttering.

After Yuu yawned, Ayumu felt movement on her chest. Oh no! She was still holding Yuu’s arm! Yuu was moving it probably with the intent of rubbing her eyes or scratching an itch or stretching or…

“Ayumu?”

Oh gods! What to do? If she let go now, the movement would likely cause the duvet to slide away and reveal… But if she held on, Yuu would probably be able to feel… Oh gods…

“Why are you…”

“Kyaaa!”

A sudden scream came from the other side of Yuu and the duvet was pulled away. Setsuna, in her surprise, had apparently rolled backward off the bed. And taken the covers with her.

The next few minutes were chaos as the three girls scrambled to find covering while avoiding looking at each other.

“Ughnnn…” Yuu was the first to break the silence, which didn’t come as a surprise to Ayumu. “Anyone else have a splitting headache?” She let her head fall back onto the mattress from her position sitting against Ayumu’s bed.

“Mmm…” Came a meek reply from Setsuna who had backed herself into the corner between the wall and the desk. She clutched her knees to her chin as though to make herself as small as possible while not seeming to care what her position was revealing. Not that finding the skirt she had worn last night would have made much difference.

“Mine isn’t all that bad.” Ayumu admitted. “Do either of you want some water?”

“Yes, please.”

“Mmm…”

“Alright.” Ayumu got up to retrieve several bottles of water.

Upon her return, she couldn’t help noticing how cute Yuu looked in her pink shirt. Somehow, in their haste, they had ended up with the other’s top. It wasn’t the first time they had swapped clothing, but it was still rare to see Yuu in pink. Also, it had been a while, so doing so again felt… no, now wasn’t the time for that.

“Here.” She held a bottle out.

“Thanks, Ayumu.” Yuu replied with a tired smile. “You’re the best.”

Geez… she’s not making it any easier, is she…

Ayumu shook that thought away before making her delivery to Setsuna. “Here.”

After a moment, Setsuna looked up, then away, then down, and away again. The blush spreading across her cheeks was hard to miss. Wait, was she… Geez… Yuu-chan’s shirt is short on me…

“A-anyway, drink up, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu managed to get out as she pulled down the hem. “It should help a little.” That said, she made her way back to where she had been sitting.

Once again, silence descended upon the room.

Not good. Ayumu thought feeling a tension start to rise. Somebody say something. Please. Yuu-chan! You’re better at this! … … Geez…

“So…” Ayumu ventured.

“Mm?” Yuu turned her head toward her.

“Uhm…” Ayumu couldn’t help fidgeting with the hem of her… Yuu’s shirt. “What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… last night…”

“What about it?”

“Well, we…”

“The drinking, or…”

Yuu-chan, you can’t possibly be that dense! “Not the drinking.” Though I am still curious about that beer you brought.

“Oh, well…” Yuu rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean I wish I remembered it in more detail. But I remember feeling really good. And that makes me happy.”

Yuu was happy about it? That’s good right? Or does it further complicate things?

Yuu furrowed her brow. “You two felt good too, right? I hope I wasn’t the only one.”

“Y-Yes.” Oh gods, did it feel good.

“Setsuna-chan?”

The raven-haired girl nodded weakly.

“But honestly, who would have thought Ayumu would be the one to make the first move.”

“Y-Y-Yuu-chan?” Ayumu sputtered, feeling heat explode across her cheeks. Yuu was right, of course, but did she really need to say it out loud?

“And all this time I’d been holding back because I thought you weren’t ready.”

What.

“You were holding back?” Ayumu’s mind reeled at the implications.

“Well, yeah, I mean that kind of stuff is normal, right? Of course I’d want to do that with the ones I love.”

Setsuna’s head snapped up, causing her to wince, but she gritted her teeth through whatever her hangover had just dealt her before opening her eyes again to stare at Yuu.

“Love?” Ayumu ended up being the one to put a voice to what she assumed to be the shared thought of both Setsuna and herself.

“Of course, love.” Yuu’s expression seemed one of either confusion or annoyance, though perhaps a mix of both. “I love you two. I… thought that much was obvious?”

Oh… Oh no… No. No, that’s not fair!

“Ayumu? What’s wrong?”

Of course, now she decides to be perceptive.

Ayumu swallowed hard.

“I’m… sorry…”

Yuu blinked. “Sorry? What are you apologizing for, Ayumu? Because you started…”

“No! The truth is…”

“The truth is…?”

Oh gods, why did it have to be so hard to say? Would it have been easier to say it last night? Before they did… that?

“I’m… planning to move out.”

“What?!” Yuu practically shouted, pushing herself up to stand on her knees, before realizing it was a bad idea. Her face contorted and she fell back down to sit on her feet, but she leaned forward again anyway to continue. “Moving? Ayumu? Why? I thought you liked it here?”

“I do, but…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with. “I’ve decided that you and Setsuna-chan need your space to be a happy couple. I’m just getting in your way.”

Yuu moved her mouth but no sound came out as she stared.

“You’re not in the way, Ayumu-san.”

Both Yuu and Ayumu turned their attention to the girl huddled in the corner who looked to be on the verge of tears.

“You’re not in the way.” Setsuna repeated. “Even someone like me can tell that the two of you have pretty much been a couple since longer than I’ve known you. If anyone is in the way…” she took an uneasy breath “it’s me…”

“Setsuna-chan…” Yuu whined, collapsing back against the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped with the weight of what her two friends had just revealed.

“I saw it right away, when I first met you.” Setsuna continued. “I saw it, and yet… I still fell for you. Both of you.” She tightened her arms around her legs. “While I was hiding my love of idols and anime from my parents, you two gave me a safe haven to truly be myself. And even when I could be more open at home, I realized how much more fun it was to share my hobbies with friends in person than with faceless avatars on random forums. And somewhere, amid all the time we spent together, I realized I couldn’t get enough, because I had fallen for you. But you two were already together.”

Setsuna paused as though still choosing the best words. “You know, I tried to walk away several times.” She made eye contact with Ayumu. “But you two just kept pulling me back in. And I kept letting you. And now… I guess I just wanted to hope that maybe my triangle would be different.” Her gaze fell back to the floor. “I’m sorry, I should just…” She let go of her knees and seemed to get ready to stand up.

“Wait.” Yuu stated. “Both of you, wait. Please.”

The other two girls turned toward her.

“I think…” She shook her head. “No, I know, I owe the two of you an apology.” She looked back and forth between them a couple times to make sure she had their full attention. “All this time, I’ve been thinking everything was great between us, that we were all happy together. I mean, I thought the main reason we got these dorm rooms, despite them being an extra station away from where we all need to go every day, was so we could live next door to each other and make seeing each other all the time that much easier.

“But I had no idea that either of you felt this way. I didn’t see it at all. So, I’m sorry. I really am. And I don’t care if it sounds selfish, but I don’t want either of you to go. I can tell you right now, losing either of you will not make me happier… Wait, now I’m confused. And maybe it’s just the hangover, but… You both wanted to leave because you loved me and wanted me to be happy with the other… Do you two not love each other?”

“What?” Setsuna seemed taken aback and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees to crawl a meter toward the others. “It’s because I also love Ayumu-san that I wanted her to be happy with Yuu-san! And I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Ayumu stared at Setsuna. The same. They really did feel the same. Why hadn’t she noticed it sooner?

“So…” Yuu scratched her head. “Ayumu, you love Setsuna-chan and me.” She pointed at her childhood friend but didn’t wait for an answer before moving on. “Setsuna-chan, you love Ayumu and me. And I love the both of you. We don’t want Ayumu to leave. We don’t want Setsuna to leave… What about if I left?”

“No!” Ayumu and Setsuna said in unison.

Yuu grinned. “Then I guess the only solution is for us all to stay together.”

Was it really that simple? “Can we really do that?” Ayumu couldn’t help asking.

“Why not?” Yuu asked in return. “We’ve pretty much been doing it already up until now; we’re always together, we go on dates constantly, we share cooking responsibilities, we stay over in each other’s rooms. Heck the only things we didn’t do we just did last night. Sure, we just uncovered a snag where you two each thought you needed to leave for the sake of the other two, but now that we’re all on the same page and know that the other two both want us to stay, we should be good, right?”

“It won’t be easy…” Setsuna said quietly.

“Relationships aren’t supposed to be easy.” Yuu countered. “They’re about working together for the common goal of being happy together. Sometimes it feels easy because the rewards are just that great, but other times you have to slog through and remember that the effort is worth it.”

Ayumu blinked. As romantically dense as Yuu often was, it was not completely uncommon for her to catch Ayumu off guard with some poignant bit of insight.

“And I believe you two are worth all the effort I can give.” Yuu flashed a smile. It was the smile Ayumu had loved since childhood, naturally confident and casually reassuring, and it never failed to make her heartrate spike for a moment or two.

As the other two remained quiet, Yuu decided to continue. “And you know, triangles are the strongest shape. That’s why they’re used so often in construction. Graphene is the strongest substance we know because of the triple bonds formed among the carbon atoms. Triangles are also the most stable shape. That’s why they’re used for tripods for cameras and stuff. And…”

Setsuna had started giggling about halfway through Yuu’s geeky rant, but now held up a hand. “Alright, alright, we get it.”

“But I’m serious.” Yuu insisted. “Just think about it, how much we behave like a triangle, how the sides are always supporting each other. Setsuna-chan, your passion keeps Ayumu and I motivated to do our best. And Ayumu, your reliability helps keep Setsuna-chan and I grounded so we don’t lose ourselves to our hobbies.”

“And Yuu-san’s support helps Ayumu-san and I keep our confidence throughout the day.” Setsuna concluded.

“Yeah, something like that.” Yuu nodded.

“Wait…” Ayumu spoke up. “Why do I get the negative one?”

“Negative?” Yuu tilted her head to the side questioningly.

“You two are positives with passion and support, but it sounds like I’m somehow keeping you from having fun?”

“That’s not what I meant at all, Ayumu.” Yuu shook her head. “By reliable and grounded, I meant that you’re kinda like a guide or a navigator or… Oh, I know, it’s like we’re a boat out on the ocean. Setsuna-chan is the engine or propeller that drives us forward and you’re the steering wheel or rudder that keeps us on an even keel. Can’t get to your destination all that well if you’re just drifting aimlessly without power or navigation. I know I’d still be drifting aimlessly through general studies if you two hadn’t been around to help power and navigate my journey through my music course.”

Ayumu smiled as the newer analogy resonated with her. However, “You left yourself out again, Yuu-chan.”

“I did? Oh… uhm, I’m… hrm…”

“Yuu-san is the hull that keeps us afloat.” Setsuna offered.

“The hull?” Yuu scrunched her nose.

“You’re definitely our hull, Yuu-chan.” Ayumu agreed.

“Alright, I suppose maybe I am the hull.” Yuu conceded with a sigh. “Although,” her gaze landed on Ayumu for a moment before settling on Setsuna “I don’t think I’m quite as buoyant as either of you.”

What did she mean by… Ayumu realized where Yuu was looking. “Yuu-chan!” She scolded, feeling herself blush.

Yuu burst out laughing. However, the bout only lasted a moment before setting off lingering hangover effects.

“Setsuna-chan, you should finish buttoning up.” Ayumu said, moving toward the other girl.

“Huh?” Setsuna looked down to find that in her haste to get dressed earlier, she had only secured two buttons on her shirt. Thus, from her position on her hands and knees, she had apparently been providing Yuu with a rather voluptuous view. “Eeeehhh?” She rocked back to sit on her legs and began fumbling with the fasteners.

“Here, let me get that.” Ayumu offered, reaching over the secure the buttons with a dexterity unhindered by a hangover. However, despite the action having begun in good faith, Ayumu found it difficult to resist stealing her own glimpse. Well… maybe if she wasn’t as blatant as Yuu…

“T-Thank you, Ayumu-san.”

“Sorry, Setsuna-chan.” Yuu offered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you that much.”

“It’s fine…” Setsuna decided after a moment. “It’s not like you didn’t already see it all last night…”

“We’ve also visited hot springs together like a dozen or so times.” Yuu pointed out. “Anyway, still have any doubts, Ayumu?”

Did she still have doubts? She knew Yuu was right when she said that relationships were not easy, and whatever difficulties two might have, three would have to face that much more. But also, as Yuu had said, she was willing to do that work. And there was no doubt in her mind that Yuu and Setsuna would put forth the same effort. Because they all wanted the same thing, to be happy together.

Ayumu shook her head. “No. I’m just… really happy right now.”

“Good. And I’m happy as…” Yuu was interrupted by a yawn. “Ughn… either of you two remember what time we went to sleep last night? It feels like we woke up too early or something.” She yawned again. “Well, good thing it’s the weekend so I can take a nap.” She turned and started climbing onto Ayumu’s bed. “Either of you want to join me?”

“Do you think another hour will help with my headache?” Setsuna asked, crawling toward the bed.

“It should.” Ayumu replied, following the others. “Huh? Yuu-chan?” She found herself blocked from taking her former position as Yuu had already made it to the wall side of the bed.

With only a smile and a gentle touch on the arm, Yuu guided Ayumu down between herself and Setsuna. Oh, so sleeping arrangements were going to rotate like when they watched anime and idol videos together. She dismissed a thought that such a thing may not be best for one’s sleep cycle as she decided the three of them could discuss it if it became an issue, or they may just figure it out intuitively, like they did with their anime viewing.

Emerald eyes entered her field of vision. “I love you, Ayumu.” Yuu said quietly before pressing her lips gently against hers. Then as quickly as she appeared, she retreated.

Her mind barely had time to register the event before eyes of cendrée appeared. “I love you too, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna said in a similar volume before also pressing her lips to hers.

Ayumu stared upward in a surprisingly satisfying stupor as the other two exchanged affections above her. No flare of jealousy or laments of being left out disturbed her as she watched contently. She basked in the warmth as Yuu and Setsuna settled down on either side of her, taking her arms into theirs. She was happy. Very happy. And she realized she should probably tell them that.

“I love you two, Yuu-chan, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu murmured.

Two pairs of eyes snapped open to stare at her. Was it really that surprising? Oh… wait… was that the first time she had said that to them? Certainly, it wasn’t the first time she had thought it, but… oh dear… Perhaps she should apolo…

Two smiles creased two sets of lips. Likely since they had already given voice to their feelings, the other two remained quiet. Setsuna tightened her embrace for a moment before nuzzling into Ayumu’s shoulder. For her part, Yuu shifted her hold so she could slide her hand down into Ayumu’s and intertwined their fingers.

No. No apology was necessary. They knew. And they accepted and loved Ayumu for who she was, even if this was the first time she had said as such in return for all the times they had told her.

Ayumu closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly. There would be plenty of time for her to give more voice to her feelings later. For now, it was time to relax and enjoy a peaceful slumber, snuggled between the two girls she loved.

This triangle would definitely be different.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[deceitfuldevil]

Rose Hips — P.P

Peter Parker X Reader

Summary: You and Peter have been back and forth flirting for too long, but a shampoo change and a craving for a certain snack late at night leads you to be saved by the one and only Spider-Man, who acts and sounds just like your best friend. . .

Warnings: swearing, use of a gun, etc.

Word Count: 4.6K

“Jesus Christ, how are we already halfway through May?” MJ asked, rubbing her eyes, she had obviously taken a nap on the bus ride to school.

“Well since today’s the 15th and there’s thirty-one days in May there’s no one whole day that’s a halfway mark of the month” Ned explained simply, earning a look from MJ as he did so.

“It was a rhetorical question dipshit.” You chuckled lightly and looked to Peter for his reaction, but he was lightly snoring with his face uncomfortably pressed into a desk. You were about to nudge him so he’d be awake for first period but when the bell rang he shot up, red lines across his left cheek from laying on the desk.

—

You were usually the first to lunch as you had 5th period gym and 6th period lunch and the two were right next to each other. But today when you got down to the cafeteria you saw Peter sitting, or really sleeping at your usual table. Which was odd because his 5th period was chemistry on the 3rd floor, and the cafeteria was on the first floor; he was usually the last one to lunch.

“Jeez Pete, how much sleep did you get?” you said taking a seat next to him at the circular table, opening up your brown paper lunch bag.

“Huh?!” You must’ve startled Peter because she shot up with a jolt. You were always concerned for his well being but as of lately he seemed to be doing worse. He’s changed a lot since he took that Stark internship last year.

“I said...” You started, looking into his bloodshot eyes that practically caved into his face.

“How much sleep did you get?”

“7 hours...” he said with a grumble, obviously not wanting to be awake at the moment

“If you got seven hours of sleep last night then why do you-”

“This week”

“What?”

“I got seven hours of sleep this week,” he said plainly, rubbing his eyes as MJ quietly sat down at the table with the two of you.

“Wow, that’s a new record” she said sarcastically.

“Peter that isn’t good, you need to take care of yourself!” You said in a matter-of-fact kind of a way, gently cupping his face in your small hands as he flashed a small smile.

“Are you coming to our study session tonight?” Fridays were you and Peter’s designated hang out day, which started Freshman year just to coax your parents into letting you have a boy over but now the two of you just watch movies and pig out on junk food. However, you still called them your study sessions; it was just your little thing with him.

“Well actually I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, you’re coming over tonight whether you like it not.”

“Oh Y/n’s over here making her move huh?” Ned asked as he sat down next to Peter, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t we wish,” MJ said somewhat under her breath. She knew how you felt about Peter, but was in no place to tattle.

“I’ll text May and let her know you’re staying the night” You said pulling out your phone and typing something out.

“Yeah like she’s ever gonna let me do that,” Peter said with a light laugh.

“You wanna bet?” You said with a smile, showing Peter your phone that showed May’s text that read: “Keep him for the whole weekend if you want! And make sure that boy gets some sleep, you know he sleeps best in your arms :).”

Peter turned a light shade of pink and stole a pudding cup from Ned, keeping his lips sealed.

“That’s what I thought,” You said with a proud smile, digging into your lunch.

Pulling the keys to your apartment out of your backpack, you unlocked your door and opened it for Peter to walk in. He mumbled a small “thank you” and made a b-line for your room before you could even close the door behind him. You smiled softly and locked up behind him, dropping your book bag following after him, only to find him loosely tucked into your twin-sized bed. You sighed seeing the overly tired Peter Parker in your bed; platonic friendships that didn’t always act platonic were rough, especially when both one of them had feelings for the other. Peter heard you sigh and opened one eye to peek at you, outstretching his arms from under your light pink duvet as a sign for you to come and join him. You happily obliged to.

Cuddling with Peter was just about your favorite thing to do. This started halfway through freshman year when he showed up at your door at 11 pm after he tried to pull a cheesy cliche on the girl he was crushing on; she called him a nerd and threw rocks at him, giving him a black eye. He was so upset because he was so sure that she’d fall for him if he copied the 1989 movie “Say Anything” and played her favorite song on a boombox outside her window. But she was a bitchy cheerleader that only went after jocks with 2-bit brains, not cute boys with 4.0 GPAs. Or at least that’s what you told Peter as he held onto you as if he’d lose you too if he let go.

“Where are you parents?” Peter mumbled, drawing you out of your memories.

“Peter.. take me to dinner first!” you said with a smile as you turned over to face him.

“Oh shut up!” He said in a playful tone, pulling the duvet over his face so that you wouldn’t see him blush.

“They’re away on another business trip, Chicago this time I think,” you said with a sad smile, your lips forming a thin line.

“Yikes, for how long this time?” he asked carefully, even though he knew you were beyond used to it by now.

“4 or 5 weeks, I’m really not sure. They’ll be back once school ends though.. I think.” Peter sighed, he wished that you had someone to be there for you. He wanted to be that person.

“You’re so lucky you have May, it must be nice to almost always have someone to come home to and not just an empty house,” You said as you used your index finger to trace Peter’s jawline. How it got so sharp and defined over the years was beyond you.

“At least you still have your parents.” Peter didn’t mention his parents often, especially outside of the confines of just the two of you. But every now and then he’d make a comment, maybe even a joke. Like most teens he too used humor as a coping mechanism.

“Yeah, but you still grew up with someone to guide you; the last time I remember my parents being home for more than a month was when I was 12.″

“I don’t knowwww, finding out your parents died in a plane crash at six sounds pretty traumatic to me,” He said in a teasing way, a way so that you knew he was kidding.

“Oh fuck off and cuddle me so that we can both get some sleep,” You said turning back over and pushing your back into his as he wrapped his hands around your waist. If anyone saw the position the two of you were in they would’ve immediately assumed you were a couple.

—

When you woke up and checked your clock it was 4:00AM; you knew that both you and Peter were extremely tired but you didn’t think you were both sleep-for-thirteen-hours kind of tired. Either way you turned over to take a peek at Peter and found him in a deep sleep lightly snoring. It was times like these when you were reminded of why you adored this boy so damn much. Not being able to help yourself you gave Peter a quick kiss on his cheek before tip-toeing out of the room to take a shower.

After turning the water on you checked your phones’ notifications, seeing a text from May amongst a few other snaps from friends.

May 💐

Hey, did Peter get any sleep yet?

You smiled, loving how much she cared for her Nephew.

we’ve been asleep since we got home at 3pm yesterday. I just woke up and I’m about to shower now but he’s still asleep :)

Hitting send you set your phone down on the bathroom counter and hopped in the shower, letting the hot water run all over your body. The best thing about AM showers in New York apartments was that you actually got some hot water for once.

Hopping out and drying yourself off you threw on a clean oversized Midtown high sweater and some pajama shorts, which ended up disappearing under the sweater anyways.

Walking back into your room you saw that it was now 4:23AM and to no surprise Peter was still sound asleep. You smiled contently and got back under the covers, not cuddling into him though as you didn’t want to wake him from his sleep. But a few minutes later you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. You called out to Peter asking if you woke him but he didn’t even stir. He must’ve pulled you closer in his sleep. He even started to draw small circles in the small of your back with his index finger as he continued to lightly snore, and the thought of him doing that absent minded-ly alone was enough to send you right back to sleep in a giddy haze.

—

Peter woke up before you this time, seeing that it was 8:12AM on your clock. You were tightly snuggled into him and he just couldn’t help but to give you a peck on the cheek, something he didn’t know you reciprocated. But right as he gave you a light kiss he got a whiff of your hair; it smelled like roses and apples. It was heavenly and made him more relaxed than he’s felt all week. Without even really thinking about it Peter began to run his fingers through your soft clean hair, almost soothing himself back to sleep. But when you started to stir in your sleep he stopped and tried to act asleep so you wouldn’t know what he was doing. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, leading Peter to believe that you had fallen back asleep. That was until you spoke up.

“You didn’t have to stop that you know. I kinda liked it.” Without a reply Peter went back to playing with your hair, bringing a smile to your face.

“Did you change your shampoo?” he asked about 10 minuets later, shocking you a bit because he was right.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” you asked, turning over to face him this time.

“You used to smell like honey, now you smell like apples and roses,” he stated plainly.

“Wow, no one’s ever noticed.”

“Well keep using this shampoo, I love it.” You gave Peter a fake offended look for that comment.

“And since when do I take orders from you?”

“Since I’m your best friend and you love me so you’d do anything for me,” he said with a grin, knowing damn well he was right.

“Oh shut up you dork.”

“Why don’t you make me?” You raised your eyebrows at his cockiness, but simply landed a kiss about an inch away from his lips and got out of bed to make breakfast, leaving a speechless Peter in bed.

“You said ‘make me.’ What did you expect?” you asked, popping your head back in just to see his awe-struck face.

You settled on the impossibly easy bowl of cereal, grabbing a bowl for Peter as well. He walked in as you were pouring him a bowl, but now he was wearing your NY Giants flannel pajama pants that you set aside for him weeks ago when he stayed the night and had no PJs to sleep in... and he lacked a shirt. Not to say that you hadn’t seen Peter shirtless before but ever since he took that Stark internship he’s gotten a lot more... buff. Anytime you’d see him shirtless you’d turn red without fail, you assumed this was his way to get back at you for following up on his “make me” statement. The two of you always played petty flirty games like that, and you both always assumed the other meant it in a completely platonic way.

“Jeez y/n, take a picture it’ll last longer,” Peter said jokingly, making you avert your gaze after realizing you’d been staring while you were deep in thought.

“Special K? Isn’t that stuff supposed to be healthy? Don’t you have any Captain Crunch around here or something?” Peter whined, making you roll your eyes at him.

“God you’re such a child! Besides, even if this stuff is ‘healthy’ it tastes really good.” Huffing dramatically Peter took a bowl and munched down on it, finishing it and then proclaiming that the cereal was “just OK” prompting you to throw a spoon at him.

—

The rest of that weekend was filled with similar flirty events and cuddle filled movie binges, and the school week consisted of pep rallies, field days, and other lax activities as graduation was on Wednesday the following week. It was nice to have a chill week after a long and stressful year, and Peter was clearly getting more sleep now that school work wasn’t a bigger part of his life anymore. Before you knew it, it was Friday again.

“Ever heard of a flirtationship?” Ned asked, munching down on his curly fries at lunch.

“...no?” You spoke, adding a questioning tone at the end encouraging him to go on.

“It’s what you and Peter have.” Before you could reply asking what that even meant, MJ chimed in as well.

“Skinny love would be another good term for you two weirdos.”

You were somewhat baffled. MJ knew of your feelings for Peter but you’d never heard these terms before in your life.

“Just look it up on urban dictionary, it’s all there,” Ned spoke simply, like it was painfully obvious. You pulled out your phone and opened safari, typing urba— before the auto-fill for UrbanDictionary.com came up. Quickly clicking your fingers across the keyboard you first looked up what a “flirtationship” was.

3

Flirtationship

An unofficial relationship that involves tons of flirting. Usually between two friends, and it's all fun and games until one of them falls for the other and turns it into a Relationship.

"OMG! John and Stacy totally in a flirtationship!"

You scoffed, looking over to Ned and giving him the finger. “Peter and I are nothing like that, we’re just—”

“What aren’t we like?” Making you jump and fumble your phone from your hand, Peter came up behind you resting his chin on your head.

“Oh nothing, it’s just obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that the two of you have undeniable feel—“

“OKAY THANK YOU THAT’S ENOUGH MJ,” You said lightly chucking a banana at her, but she blocked it with her sketchbook.

“I’m just saying,” she said with a shrug, ultimately leaving Peter confused but he shrugged it off and began to ask about your day so far. In the middle of telling him how Mr. T made you run 2 extra laps in gym for running late in the locker room he took a large whiff of your hair.

“So what’s the name of that shampoo you use anyways?” Peter asked amidst a sweet daze as he began to run his fingers through your hair. Had anyone else, even Ned try to do that you would have been weirded out and moved away. But there was something calming that soothed you when Peter did it.

"Rose Hips by Herbal Essence,” you told him with a smile, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running through your hair.

“Dude, how’d you smell something so faint?” MJ asked, genuinely curious.

“Mmm must’ve been my Peter tingle” he said, still entranced in the smell.

“I’m sorry— your Peter what now?” MJ said with a laugh, but Ned threw an empty thing of pudding at Peter's head and brought him out of his trance.

“Oh uh, nothing” Peter said quickly, now sitting down beside you. You looked to MJ and gave her a “what the fuck was that??” kind of a look and she only shrugged. You didn’t notice Ned giving Peter the “why the hell would you say that dude?!” eyes and Peter only shushing him as you turned back around.

After that lunch came and went, as did the rest of the day. Thank god it was Friday again, and a long weekend at that. But you and Peter’s “study sessions” have become less concrete over the past few months, Peter has been showing up late or even not at all, giving some sort of lame excuse like:

“Oh May really needed my help with something.”

“Well you know that Stark internship is keeping me pretty busy.”

“Ned got a new LEGO set and said he couldn’t build it without me.”

It got to the point where you’d stop asking where he was or if he was even coming over. If he came, he came. If he didn’t, you settled for a bullshit excuse.

Sure this upset you and you told MJ about it but she just brushed it off as typical teenage boy things. Yet she wouldn’t stop reminding you that he’d probably spend more time with you if you told him how you really felt, and you kept reminding her that that was never gonna happen.

Before he started flaking Peter usually stopped by around 7pm, so when you looked over at the clock and saw that it was 10:30 at night you figured he wasn’t coming. The latest he ever showed up at your door was 1:00AM and you had already been up for hours cramming for a test that week so he stopped you and you both ate junk food until you passed out. He was gone in the morning though, and he didn't end up being at school that day either. Said he got sick in the middle of the night or something?

Anyways, Delmars was due to close in half an hour and you had a craving for some Cheeto puffs. So you threw a hoodie on over your pajama shorts and tank top and grabbed a five dollar bill. It was a block and a half away and even though the streets at night weren’t your favorite scene you were too hungry to care.

Leaving your apartment with nothing but a five dollar bill, your phone, and the keys to your apartment, you left and locked the door behind you, as your parents were still away on that business trip in Chicago. Walking into the store you looked to the clock and saw it was now 10:47PM, and a worker there was cleaning and starting to pack things up. You grabbed a bag of Cheeto puffs and quietly went up to the register. Paying and going on your way you bid the cashier a good night you started your trek back home.

Only about half a block into your commute did you feel off, making a quick glance behind you you saw a hooded figure following you about 3 yards away. “No big deal,” you thought. Maybe he’s just gotten off work is is really tired, and you have your trust pepper— oh fuck. Ever since an overly strict hall monitor caught you with a keyring with pepper spray on it you weren’t allowed to bring it to school because it was considered a “weapon,” and even then you were given week's detention.

All this overthinking made you look back again in fear and this time the hooded figure was less than a yard away from you. You immediately tried to pick up the pace but he pulled you into a nearby alleyway and covered your mouth with his hand. Only following your instinct you bit down as hard as you could on the man's hand, he cried out in pain.

“You bitch!”

You thought that was the end of it and you were going to make a run for it but then you heard a gun cock.

“I wanted to do this the easy way but it’s already obvious you aren’t gonna make that possible. Now where is your—“

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even actually see what happened. It was nearly 11:00 o’clock at night after all. But the next thing you knew you saw the well-known butt-kicking New York superhero known as Spider-Man on top of the man throwing punch after punch at him. You stared in awe for a moment, for so many reasons. You had only seen the famous Spider-Man in YouTube videos across the internet, he was known to be very peaceful and not hurt the criminals, and all in all you didn’t think he’d stop such a small crime as what was happening to you, let alone even catch it.

After catching your own breath you wrapped your arms around the blue and red spandex bound man pulling him off your attacker.

“You’re going to kill him!” You shouted. Only then did the masked hero look at you and hold his gaze. Usually you felt uncomfortable when people would stare at you but there was nothing uncomfortable about the situation; it felt like you’ve done it before. But as soon as your attacker started to try and get up Spider-Man webbed him to a wall, and his gun a few yards away so he wouldn’t be able to use it when the cops showed up.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist your newfound rescuer instructed you to hold on. You did as you were told but something was off; that voice sounded familiar.

He swung you all the way home, right to your window in fact. Settling on the fire escape right outside he released the webbing from his hand but didn’t let go of your waist. Instead, he ran his gloved fingers through your hair and took a long whiff from your head. Exhaling slowly, he came back to his senses.

Now you definitely had your fair share of dumbass moments but you’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not realize who was behind that mask.

“Ahem, your apartment... madam?” He said, clearing his throat and adding a queens accent. You decided to play along, just a little bit though.

“Oh why thank you so much Spider-Man! You’re my hero!” You said, embracing him in a tight hug. He embraced you back and the small circles he drew on the small of your back with his index finger only further proved to you that this was indeed Peter Parker.

“But... How did you know where I live? Let alone my exact apartment window?” He froze, he was no longer drawing circles on your back and his breathing was hitched. You could hear his heart rate increasing ever rapidly.

“You uh–“ He stammered, losing his fake queens accent.

“You told me, yeah, you told me you lived in apartment number 32D” Ah, there was that lovely fake accent. But it was weaker, shakier.

“That’s funny ‘cause I don’t remember saying a single word to you before you brought me to this fire escape. But wait, if I told you that I lived in apartment 32D, how’d you know that this is the window to my bedroom?”

There was a shit-eating grin plastered across your face. You had him cornered and he knew it, you were just waiting for him to say it.

“I uh— well you see... it’s not really– ummmm,” He was fumbling over every word and the fake accent was long gone but it was obvious he wasn’t gonna give in and admit it. So you reached your hands up to the neck of his suit and started to pull up on the red neckline of the fabric. When you had just pulled it over enough so that you could see his entire chin and mouth you knew without a doubt that it was Peter.

“Are you sure you wanna do that? Super heroes aren’t really supposed to reveal their true identity to anyone.” He dropped all the bullshit, he was speaking with the same voice he talked to you with at lunch.

“Oh I’m sure,” You said with a laugh, continuing to pull the mask up his face at an agonizingly slow pace. Peter grabbed your wrists after you unveiled his nose.

“But Mr. Stark said if anyone I love finds out I’m Spider-Man then they’ll be under risk from bad guys around the world!” He exclaimed, not seeming to realize what he just confessed. At that point you quickly pulled off the rest of the mask and stared deep into Peters brown eyes. It was dark out and there was nothing but the moonlight shining on his face but still you searched for any sense of mistruth or uncertainty and saw nothing but unrelenting truth.

“You... you love me?”

Only then did he retrace his words and realized what hadspilled from his mouth.

“No! I mean, yes, oh my god yes I do I have since sophomore year when you kicked flash in the balls for calling me Penis Parker for the thousandth time that day, but if that means you don’t wanna be my friend anymore than in that case I don’t like you at all and this whole thing can totally be forgotten and—“

“Peter!” You interrupted

“Yeah?”

“I love you too,” you said softly, looking into his eyes with nothing but admiration.

“You do? Because if you don’t that’s really fine and I’d totally understand cause like—”

You knew there was no other way to shut him up besides doing the only thing you’ve wanted to do for 3 years. You kissed him. Standing up on your tippy-toes you cupped his cheek with your hands and gently pressed your lips to his. It was everything you’d thought it’d be and more; he tasted like banana laffy taffy, which happened to be your favorite candy so you weren’t complaining. Pulling away Peter’s eyes stayed shut a few seconds longer than yours, just doing his best to relish in the moment as long as possible before having to resurface back to the pain that is reality.

“Do I need to kiss you again to bring you back down to earth?” Peter said nothing but smiled wider than you’d ever seen before and nodded slowly. You smiled contently and went in for a quick peck before Peter came back to reality and put his hands tenderly on your face keeping your lips attached to his as he attempted to deepen the kiss. You gave in but only for a moment, soon pulling away and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Okay calm down lover boy, that’s fun and all but it’s freezing out here and I can’t feel my feet.” Without a second to spare Peter picked you up bridal style and carried you into your bedroom. You spent the whole night cuddling, kissing, and making him tell you every last detail about what it was like being Spider-Man.

—

A/N

Hi all, today is June 8th 2020... almost 4 months since I last posted. I’d like to apologize, I don’t have much of an excuse besides the fact that COVID-19 has brought on so much bad news for me that I haven’t had the motivation to do jack shit :) 

But I also want to say that me posting today is not me trying to draw attention away from what’s going on in the world at the moment, because posting right now could easily make ignorance seem okay; and it’s not. I’ve been to protests, I’ve signed petitions, I’ve talked with friends and family, I’m doing all that I can do help support the BLM movement and put an end to racism and corrupt cops. In fact, if you need a place to find good resources, there’s a link here that’s full of petitions to sign, places to donate, educational articles on whiteness, racism, blackness in America, on liberation, on police violence, and so on. Links with compilations, books, PDFs, podcasts and episodes, films and videos, social media posts worth reading and sharing, noteworthy public figures and authors, reading guides, and even protest safety. 

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1bUJrgX8vspyy7YttiEC2vD0DawrpPYiZs94V0ov7qZQ/htmlview?usp=gmail 

^here’s the link again just in case. So if it wasn’t clear this account is safe for all genders, sexualities, races, ethnicities, etc. 

So please don’t think of this post as a distraction from what’s going on, but rather a quick break. My best friend proof read this for me and told me it’s exactly what she needed right now. So I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and constructive criticism is welcome!

Much Love,

—Skyler 

[em-htiw-klaw-erif]

ok,I’m pretty high so I thought like, why not make a post? It’s only been what, 3 years since my last Original Content? Anyway. Here’s a list of bands in my record collection that I think are great but have less than 100k listeners on Spotify:

Gary Myrick & The Figures/Gary Myrick: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 9.6k/4.6k

Gary Myrick is great and one of the few artists on here that I knew before picking up random albums at estate sales that def looked synth-poppy and 80s. Kind of toes the line between straight 80s rock and new wave, but he does it well. 

Listen to: She Talks in Stereo; I’m Not a Number; Guitar, Talk, Love & Drums (solo)

SALEM: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 84k

The only recent band to make it on the list, i picked up their first release at a socially distanced garage sale this summer and when I punched it in to discogs the genre told me I made the right decision: WITCH HOUSE. Now if that’s not a tumblr genre idk what is. Regardless, it’s actually a pretty great album, and I kiiiiind of understand where they got witch house from? I threw it on at Halloween and grooved.

Listen to: King Night; Trapdoor; Traxx

Romeo Void: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 74k

ok....wow. I actually accidentally clicked on Romeo Void because I had really, really expected them to have way more than this many listeners. Romeo Void is kind of a staple of darkwave, at least at the goth dance club I used to go to on Saturdays back when things were open (please hold out late bar I love you). Not only that but their POC frontwoman, Debra Iyall, is a fucking BOSS.

Listen to: Never Say Never; A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing); Shake the Hands of Time

Quincy: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 70. NOT A TYPO. SEVENTY.

This band only put out one album, in 1980, and were actually super big at CBGB until Quincy Jones saw their name on a marquee and got super litigious at them, which i think is unfair. They had to change their name and never really recovered but damn is that a shame bc this album has some legit Elvis Costello vibes and I love it. Plus the cover art is so great I have it hanging in my basement.

Listen to: the whole album, there’s only one and they only have 70 listeners, don’t be cruel. But especially Stop Now and Critic’s Choice

Paul Collins Beat: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 1.5k

I’ll be honest, I picked up a 12″ single of his by mistake. See, the actual name of Paul Collins Beat back in the day was, The Beat. Which would’ve been fine, if another band in England called The Beat (225k listeners) weren’t active and rising in status at the same exact time. You may know them by the name they took in America, The English Beat and they are an amazing two-tone band for sure. But Paul Collins, poor guy, just couldn’t compete with his punkier garage rock sound in the 80s. 

Listen to: Give Me the Drugs (I only have a single so I don’t have many recs sorry)

Joe Gilbert & Eddie Brown: Monthly Spotify Listeners - 521

Most of the bands/artists on here belong to a pretty specific set of genres but this one breaks the mold which should go to show you just how good they are. Joe and Eddie were a black folk duo in the early-mid 60s, and there’s only one studio album and one live album existing by them on spotify. Now I tend to dislike live albums. But every once in a while one comes along and just really wows me, whether with the raw talent/musicality, or the stage presence, or other factors. This one had all of them.

Listen to: Skillet Good and Greasy; C.C. Rider; You Can Tell the World