#and really set the stage on what's to come

[karvokr]

consult required

the brain runs on impulse, instinct, and input. and it responds best to consistent, hands-on care.

pairings: neurosurgeon!nanami x trauma surgeon!reader content warnings: mdni, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), desk sex, semi-public sex, established relationship (married), creampie/slight breeding kink if you squint, overstim, aftercare, cum-eating :p, mutual obsession, grey's anatomy realm of believability, code of conduct violations (professionals not being professional) <3

“You’re going to give yourself another headache.”

Your arms are crossed as you lean against the door frame of his office. It’s past midnight, and the hospital has gone still– only the occasional squeak of rubber soles and the low hum of fluorescents break through the silence. Nanami doesn’t look up. He’s seated at his desk, back impossibly straight despite the hour, jaw set. 

He looks too casual– just a fitted black compression shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows, blue scrub pants slung low on his hips. No lab coat. No tie. But you’re not surprised. A nurse mentioned he’d come out of surgery less than thirty minutes ago.

He flips a page in the chart, but his focus clearly isn’t on post-op notes anymore.

“You should be home,” he replies. “Or in the OR. Heard another case came in.”

You arch a brow, tilting your head at him. “What, keeping tabs on me now?”

His fingers still against the page, eyes flicking up beneath tired brows. “I know your schedule better than mine,” he says. “You’ve been on the board since six this morning.”

You smirk. “Jealous?”

“No.” He closes the chart– slowly, deliberately. “Concerned.”

You scoff, closing the door behind you and stepping closer to where he sits, leaning in just enough for him to notice the shift in heat. “Hard to sleep alone, you know,” you murmur. “Might be easier if my husband came home before sunrise for once.”

Nanami’s gaze holds steady, but something softens around the edges– like guilt slipping through a crack in the armor. “They paged me in for a tumor resection,” he replies, and you see his shoulders start to slump as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Midline. Pediatric. I couldn’t push it.”

Your teasing fades a little at that, but you don’t move away. You brush your fingers along the edge of his desk as you rest against it, voice quieting. “I’m not mad, Kento,” you say as you glance at him, eyes warm. “I just miss you.”

After a long pause, he stands, chair scraping softly beneath him. He steps in close and his hands find your waist– steady, grounding.

“I miss you too,” he says, voice lower now. Closer. “Every hour I’m here.”

You let the moment stretch, then loop your arms around his neck and smile– soft, a little wicked. “Then maybe you should start sneaking me into the on-call room again. For old times’ sake.”

“Do you flirt like this with all of your colleagues, or am I just lucky?”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for men who operate on brains for a living.”

His hands slide up beneath your scrubs, resting just beneath your chest– warm. “How coincidental– I’ve got a thing for stubborn, brilliant women who don’t know how to take a break.”

You huff a quiet laugh, tilting your head. “Bold words from a man who calls four hours of sleep and a protein bar a full recovery. What exactly did they teach you in med school?”

Nanami doesn’t smile, not really– but something shifts in his gaze. He closes the distance, lifting you onto the desk with practiced ease, stepping between your thighs like it’s routine. His hand settles at your hip– light, but firm.

“That people like us don’t stop until someone makes us.” His hand glides past your chest, fingertips brushing your collarbones under your top. “Which is why I’m staging an intervention.”

“Yeah?” You lift a brow, lips tugging into something a little dangerous. “And what does that look like, Doctor Nanami?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you for a long, weighted second– like he’s measuring the risk, the timing, and the rule he’s about to break for the second time this week.

Then his hand trails from your chest back to your thigh. “Well, Doctor Nanami,” he says low, “it looks like me doing my job… taking care of my strong-willed, overworked, impossibly beautiful wife.”

He kisses you– firm, focused, like he’s been holding this in since morning rounds. His hands slide down over your hips, gathering the soft fabric of your scrub pants as he pulls you against him.

There’s no rush– but there’s urgency. The kind that simmers hot and quiet beneath long days and longer nights, under passing and fleeting glances across the surgery floor. His mouth trails down your neck, hot and open, and when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your scrubs and underwear in one fluid, practiced motion, he groans against your skin like it hurts to finally touch you.

“Still so wet for me,” he breathes, voice raw with restraint. “You’re going to be the death of my self-control.”

You gasp when his fingers slide through your folds– slow and thorough, like he’s trying to memorize you again after too long apart. Your hips twitch forward, instinctive, chasing the drag of his touch. He gives you more– just barely– enough to make you ache for it.

“You say that,” you whisper, breath stuttering, “but I think you like losing control sometimes.”

He chuckles softly against your neck, lips brushing your pulse. “Only for you,” he murmurs. Then his thumb circles your clit– tight, measured pressure that makes your thighs tremble. “Only ever for you.”

He pushes two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right like he already knows where you're falling apart. Your breath hitches, back arching into his body, and he presses closer, hand at your spine to keep you upright as he fucks you open with steady, calculated strokes.

“God, look at you,” he groans, watching the way your mouth parts, the way your hips roll. “Falling apart already.”

“Kento–” Your voice is half-whimper, half-warning.

He silences it with a kiss– messy and consuming, lips sliding over yours like he needs it as much as you do. His fingers pump into you harder, your slick soaking down his hand as he grinds his palm against your clit.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs into your mouth, voice breathless. “I’m so lucky.”

You’re shaking– legs trembling, body unraveling, clutching the back of his shirt like a lifeline, the fabric bunched and twisted between your fingers. You reach down blindly with your free hand, palming him through his scrubs, and the soft, strangled groan it earns you is reward enough to make your thighs twitch.

He’s so hard for you– thick and straining beneath the fabric, the shape of him hot and heavy against your hand. You rub your palm over him again, slower this time, and his hips stutter into the movement, but he doesn’t stop. He never stops. His fingers keep fucking into you, curling just right, fingertips brushing that spot inside you over and over while his palm presses hard and steady against your clit.

“That’s it,” he rasps, eyes locked on your face like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Let me feel you.”

Your whole body tenses, thighs clenching around his wrist, the heat coiling low in your stomach about to snap. It’s too much– his mouth on yours, his hand deep inside you, his cock hard and hot under your touch, his voice in your ear like a prayer.

You gasp, and it breaks. Pleasure floods you in a wave so sharp it steals your breath, white-hot and blinding as you cum hard around his fingers, hips bucking, a cry caught between your lips and his. Your grip on his shirt tightens, the world narrowing to the rhythm of your pulse and the warmth of his mouth and the way he groans your name as you fall apart in his arms. He doesn’t stop– just slows, eases you through it, holding you upright while you shake against his chest.

You’re still catching your breath when he withdraws his hand, and you hear the slick sound of your release as he brings his fingers to his mouth– sucks them clean without breaking eye contact.

“You taste like home,” he says, voice barely there.

Then he undoes the tie on his pants.

There’s nothing rushed about it– just the soft hiss of fabric sliding down his hips, the flex of his jaw as he wraps a hand around himself and strokes once, twice. His cock is flushed and heavy, the tip already leaking, slick with the mess you’ve made of him. You can see the way his breath hitches as he fists himself– slow, controlled, like he’s restraining the urge to lose it right then and there.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, voice strained.

“Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes,” you pant, voice shaking. “Please.”

He tugs your scrubs down, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor without a second thought. He lifts one of your legs, opening you up for him, his gaze dragging down to where you’re wet and aching for him.

His cock twitches in his hand at the sight.

“You sure?”

You meet his eyes– darker than you’ve seen them in weeks, pupils blown, expression ruined. “I’m yours, Kento. Always.”

The thick head of him pushes in slowly, stretching you inch by inch until you’re clenching tight around him. You gasp, one hand clawing into his back, the other gripping the edge of his desk like it might anchor you.

He’s so deep it burns in the best way– thick and hot, the slide of him dragging against every sensitive inch inside you. He groans low in his throat as he bottoms out, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. “Always are.”

He pulls back just enough to thrust again– harder now, smoother, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing off the office walls. The desk creaks under the force, your breath catching with every impact as he finds a rhythm– filthy, focused, relentless.

Each stroke slams into you at just the right angle, hitting deep, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur. The sound of him– grunting through clenched teeth, breath hitching, skin slapping against yours– is almost enough to push you over the edge again.

“No one else gets this,” he grits out, hand locked on your waist, the other holding your thigh to keep you open. “No one else ever will.”

And all you can do is nod, whimper, dig your nails into his back more as the coil inside you tightens again– faster, needier, hungrier. He’s fucking you with practiced precision– precision born from obsession, from every late-night memory, every time he’s taken you apart and put you back together again.

He knows your body better than he knows his own.

Every thrust is fervent, deliberate– merciless in the way his hips slam against yours, and you swear you can feel him in your chest, in your bones, curling like heat around your spine.

“That’s it,” he groans, jaw tight, sweat beading at his temple. “Just like that– fuck, I love you.”

Your walls clamp down around him and he stutters– just once– hips faltering, muscles twitching, as if the feel of you pulling him deeper is enough to break his control completely.

“Kento– please–”

You’re too close to form words, every nerve on fire. Your body tightens, your nails drag red lines across his back, and he fucks you through it– hard, desperate, entirely his.

A second orgasm slams into you– shattering and sharp, stealing your breath like a rip current. You cry out, sobbing his name, head thrown back as your legs shake around his waist and your body clamps down around his cock.

He groans– wrecked, raw, guttural– as you milk him.

“Fuck– you’re everything– perfect. Take me so well– fuck, gonna fill you up, baby.”

He thrusts once, twice more, then stills completely, buried to the hilt as he spills into you with a strangled moan, forehead pressed to yours, breath catching as he cums hard. His hand trembles where it grips your thigh, the other sliding to your lower back to hold you close.

You feel the warmth of it inside you, thick and deep, the pulse of him still twitching as he gasps your name against your cheek. The only sound for a long moment is your breathing—ragged, uneven, tangled together like your bodies still are.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, his gaze is soft. Tender. Like you’ve broken something in him just by loving him like this.

“Couldn’t do this without you,” he whispers, voice hoarse, fingers brushing along your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

You swallow, blinking up at him as your fingers tighten just slightly in his shirt. “You don’t have to.” Your voice is quiet. “You’ll never have to.”

That pulls a quiet breath from him– almost a laugh. His thumb strokes your cheek again before he dips down, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then another, lower, at the curve of your jaw. Unrushed.

He eases out of you slowly, carefully, murmuring soft apologies against your skin when you flinch at the aftershock. You feel the slick mix of you both starting to slip down your thigh, and his hands are already there, steadying you.

“Stay still,” he says gently. “Let me clean you up.”

You expect him to reach for tissues, maybe your scrub pants– but instead he kneels, drops to his knees between your legs like it’s instinct, like worship, and rubs his hands along your thighs, gently guiding them apart.

“Kento–”

He looks up at you, gaze steady. “Let me.”

He leans in, tongue dragging slow through the mess between your thighs, licking up his own release with a groan that vibrates through your core. His hands hold you firmly in place, and all you can do is gasp– overstimulated, wrecked, trembling all over again.

When he’s finished, he presses a slow kiss to the inside of your thigh before standing, tucking himself away and pulling your scrubs back up your legs with gentle, almost clinical precision. His fingers linger briefly at your hip, like he’s reluctant to let go.

Once you’re both dressed again, he runs a hand through his hair and glances at his watch.

“I should take you home,” he says, voice low. “Let you sleep in a real bed. With a locked door. And fewer fluorescent lights.”

You smile, stepping into his space again, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt just to feel skin. “Careful,” you murmur, resting your cheek against his chest. “That almost sounds like romance. Might have to report you to HR.”

Nanami exhales a quiet laugh– subtle, but real– and wraps an arm around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Pretty sure the HR violations started when you sat on my desk,” he says dryly.

“I was checking on my husband,” you counter, not bothering to hide your grin.

“Mm.” His lips brush the crown of your head. “Very professional.”

dr.nanami as promised <3 planning on turning most of these into fully fleshed-out fics, lmk which ones you would want me to expand most!! and let me know which au you want next :p thx for reading ily

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

♡He's My Man♡

Not my original idea, though... I really loved what @lemon-koii thought of and I was like "HE'S MY MAN BY LUVCAT???" When I tell you I screamed on the top of my lungs for this after seeing one of my favorite music playing...

If you're asking if I am still listening to this music while writing, yes. I have it on loop in the settings so I got it memorized.

Gender Neutral reader [<-if some of ya'll don't sing this just pretend, since for me? I'm a bad fucking singer, I love me some delusional readers🙏]

Genre: idk slightly creepy!reader? They sing like they killed their own husband but whateves. Romantic.

Involvement: Main cast [<-I'm going to include NPCs so if you see white texts with no color, that's probably scarabia NPC B or smth]

Tw: OOC because I want some lovesick fools, Mentions of poisoning [Kalim cover your ears], unhealthy obsessions, unmentioned death [<-maybe in the lyrics...], cussy, and yeah tell me if there's more I'm putting warnings first before writing this fic bc why not.

P.S. I'm going to open my asks later. And to add more, I don't know what singers do, but I do know that they pour their heart out for their songs, so I wanna put emotions on the reader, describing the feelings or smth.

The whole school was invited for a performance.

Why you ask? Oh, to secretly record the prefect singing one of the music they've heard in their world.

Does the prefect know? Let's say, kind of? Okay, no, not really. BUT what the prefect doesn't know won't hurt them, soo...

Housewardens and Vice-housewardens were invited as well as a few members in their dorms.

Riddle tried refusing because of his studies.

Ace convinced him because his boring ass needs some fun and needs to learn visually not only through literature.

Riddle agrees since it might be the first to hear prefect singing [<-let's imagine you're not that bad of a singer].

Deuce and Ace celebrates in victory, dragging along Trey [who baked sweets in case they get hungry yk?]

Cater is no where to be seen [no shit]

They all go to the PMC [Pop music club] where they find a stage set up with a spotlight, the room is quite dark, and some random ass person recording the whole thing, Savannaclaw got in here as well, and somehow included Leona who was just sleeping somewhere nearby, Ruggie looking for food [he smelled the sweets Trey made], Jack just chillin' with the rest of the first years [<-the ones he knows], Epel lowkey tweaking out after hearing Vil saying "behave" for the 150th time, Rook is making sonnets of how lovely this performance would be since you are going to be singing for the audience [and you are very scared because what happens if you voice-crack? That shit will make you kill yourself instead for the last performance bro 💯].

Sebek is over here yelling his heart out of this soon-to-be performance that hasn't even started yet, he was even shut down by his other dormmates, even Malleus was invited. Silver is snoring but is woken up by his dormmate that coincidentally has a UM that keeps him awake, Idia came in with his tablet because fucker is scared to step in the function, Ortho takes his place and carrying the tablet with him, Octavinelle is scheming after the performance cuz' they boutta witness a first time in forever.

Azul is patiently waiting, Jade is just smiling and talking to others about something, maybe a mountain fact or tips when hiking, Floyd is slowly getting bored while waiting so he starts to terrorize [tease] Riddle, while Riddle shouts at him, Trey plays peacemaker, Jamil is worried and darting around looking for Kalim out of habit, only to realize that Kalim is a part of the club so he relaxes, just a bit. Leona is secretly listening for something [obviously the performance].

Now in comes the lights turning off and everyone goes silent. Literally silent.

And a spotlight turns on the stage.

Voices.

"C'mon! I promise you, your music taste isn't so bad! First, we'll practice a few times in here, then, we'll show the entire world! I swear, it will go viral, trust me!" Laughed Kalim.

"He's right, [Name]. You should practice singing it in here." In steps Lilia [💋🎀].

Cater just grabs his guitar and does a little test with it before confirming it would go nice with the 'practice'.

"Yeah... I don't know if I should, like what happens if, I like, you know, crack my voice on accident?? Like bro, that'll be MAD embarrassing." "Nahh, you'll be fine! This is JUST practice. Trust me." Said Cater, and you side-eyed him.

Honestly, I think it's legal to slap people here... [sorry random thought]

You grab the mic and just stare at it. You're not sure if you're anxious, scared, or just nervous. This shit is giving you pressure.

"Relax!~ breath in and out!" Kalim chimed in.

You did as you were told, it kinda died down but that don't mean you don't STILL feel nervous. The room is literally dark as fuck. How are you supposed to know you are truly alone with them???

"Nobody would judge you here, it's just the three of us with you. Take your time." Lilia reassured, coaxing you into a false sense of comfort which you totally let your guard down.

☆~~———~~☆

Let's say you let your guard down, you grab the mic, turn it on [if it wasn't already], and of course, you teach them how the music sounded like. Kalim, for once, wanted to actually make it right as to not make it sound something your not familiar with, and tried syncing it to what you believed was how the music went. From the beats, to the chorus at the nearing end.

And so the music starts...

Late September in the city.

Everyone listens closely, wondering if it's a love song or a sad one. A song with meanings? Riddle thought.

The sky is grey, the air is sticky.

Riddle paused. What the fuck does that mean??? Trey paid no mind to it, maybe it's a metaphor, considering how much singers used to do that a lot in their lyrics.

Ace was snickering, so his bitch ass was pinched and a hand clasp onto his mouth before he could yelp [but the mic was loud so you couldn't hear him at all, okay slightly but you assumed something fell].

Deuce watches in amazement. Hearing you sing for the first time.

I keep falling in and out of sleep.

Insomnia? Leona thought, but scratch that, the lyrics said 'in and out' not fully awake, like something bothering the woman from sleeping or something? Must be such a nightmare to live like that.

Ruggie side-eyes someone who wouldn't like to be in a situation like that. (Leona)

Some guitar just playing within silence, it sounds sad, but it sounds a bit eerie not creepy, just eerie. Like the singer has something else in mind.

Letting the sun scorch the grass,

The flies are knocking on the glass.

Jamil cringed at that, why the fuck did you include that... Jade caught a glimpse of Jamil's disgusted face, he grins. But both can tell something is off with this music.

You looked entranced. Like you were detailing even the littlest of things in the moment.

But they're the only other friends I have. You see.

Malleus looks offended, what about him??? Then Lilia eyes him saying "It's the lyrics" Malleus somehow understood.

I need him so much, that it hurts,

I wish, he didn't have to go to work.

Oh? Jade thought, are you saying, you want a husband to stay by your side? Even, if they have to skip out their duties to provide? Hmm, but then again, keeping you happy by providing his attention to you does make you happy... but the problem is these other suitors...

The other boys are listening attentively, wondering if you're talking about someone in here.

I just lie and watch the ceiling fan turn,

He's my man~

We're hand in hand,

To hell and back,

And I'll love him like nobody else can!~

Not gonna lie... Idia thinks that this is some yandere traditional housewife with the way that the lyrics empathize "nobody else can"...

Prefect, is your world okay? Ortho js scanning the lyrics to find the meaning, but he needs to listen to it more to figure it out.

Riddle likes the tone of your voice, the emotion placed in it.

Rook thinks it's marvelous, pouring your heart into the lyrics where it voices out her beloved husband, do you want that type of husband, mon chouchou?

He's my man,

I've been damned,

No, nobody has to understand,

Me and my man~

Okay, so now Jamil side-eyes the lyrics internally, that SEEMS so suspicious. Prefect, you're not going to do what he thinks your going to do, are you?

As the instruments plays in a harmony where it's brooding, almost obsessively brooding, longing for someone that is already theirs, everyone starts to theorize on

What the fuck does this mean.

You literally look a bit eerie talking about 'your man' like, is it him??? He hopes [so] not!

Your voice trails off, like seeing your man whenever he walks into the room, look in a daze, you've memorized this in your heart, you stab it in if you had to.

I stay home and make his dinner,

Even though somehow he keeps getting thinner.

Now you got everyone worried, what the heck... Riddle is not side-eyeing the lyrics, no besides that, he's side-eyeing your expression. Please tell him your okay and that this is just a part of pouring emotions into a music that you totally don't relate in...

Please.

Trey is just concerned for you, WY are you singing this??? Maybe, it's just a song you like, despite the lyrics? Yeah, maybe.

Ace and Deuce looks at you like an escaped lunatic from a psyche ward [even though they should've been in there instead] Deuce doesn't mind but... what does 'keep getting thinner' even mean? Your literally feeding him, is he throwing it away??? Ace is getting justt a bit creeped out.

I wait, watching the washing machine spin round and round again!~

Npc B look at his friend, Octavinalle C whispering, "Maybe it's just in act... you know, the prefect hanging around with Vil?"

But Vil probably didn't remember you taking requests in acting, much more than good at it. Is this genuine? If it is, he'll need medical help to scoop your brain into a normal one...

Rook likes how creepy the vibe is, enjoying the show.

The instruments are taking a slightly intense turn, like madness slowly washing over them.

I NEED him so much that it hurts,

I wish he didn't have to go to work!~

Your voice sounded intense, in a softer way. Obsessively talking about a 'him', eyes fixated on 'him' [even if you're looking at no one], like it's your only thought process on keeping 'him' with you.

Everyone is recording silently, their streams blowing up by the second.

He keeps complaining that his visions blurred~

Okay. What the fuck, prefect. Leona is wide-eyed, deadass staring at the stage you were standing in, obviously not paying attention to the hidden crowd [which is, not that much crowded, if it was then you would've noticed right away. It's just a few NPCs], anyway this isn't about the audience. It's literally what your expressing in the lyrics, Leona is probs getting an eerie feeling from this.

Jamil looks with recognition, 'visions blurred' and 'keeps getting thinner' that couldn't be...

Kalim just ignores it, he knows it's a part of the music, you've explained it to him. It's a form of expression, he quite likely understood it. Just not the reason why it was expressed that way. Not like he wanted to know it anyway.

But he's my man!~

We're hand in hand,

To hell and back,

And I'll love him like nobody else can!~

Sis, that ain't your man, that's a test subject... thought Ruggie and Idia.

Trey looked shocked, if he's not wrong, it could've meant something about the wife being obsessed with her husband, yes? So if she is, and she's giving him food despite his lack of nutrition everyday... Oms.

Ace and Deuce was just catching up with the lyrics, the music sounds good.

Savannaclaw looked slightly intimidated with the way you're expressing this along with the lyrics about a wife.

Azul was paying attention to the possible meaning behind it, with an uneasy feeling writhing in his guts, Jade looked amused as if the music wasn't subtly hinting at a husband's death caused by a wife, Floyd was dead silent, paying attention to his shrimpy [whom he'd call [Name] from now on] and the lyrics. They don't seem to match [Name], that music is about obsession, blah, blah, blah, and [Name] doesn't do any of that! Unless they do...?

Malleus was paying attention to the lyrics mentioning the 'man', he seemed frail despite being fed, his eyes blurred with no reason, the wife's doing? Sebek was going to yell, Silver had a fast reflex into shutting him the fuck up before you performance is disturbed, solemnly attentive.

Idia is just wary of you bro what in the underworld are you even listening in your world ???? Ortho looks a bit concerned for your health, your emotions in his scanner seems a bit off...

Every NPC that was honorably invited was slightly hoisting up their phones to get a better look, until Vil slapped their hands down before you can spot it.

Rook was wondering what type of woman would do that to him if he were ever in your world instead. Would it be you?

He's my man~

I've been damned,

No, nobody has to understand,

Me and my man~

Yeah, this kinda adds up as to why you act so weird around your crush [or when you talk about your crush].

A violin plays for the 'romance' that blooms under delusions, it's like a message of sorts, a twisted perception of love. It's beautiful and fiercely loyal, but deadly and can backfire onto 'your man'.

He keeps having feverish dreams,

That he never ever leave.~

Oh, what a nightmare, Jade muses. But if it's you? That's different. What does he mean by that? No worries. Floyd is grinning, it's tempting to just sweep you off the stage and actually make you one.

Jamil is just concerned on why, out of all the music you could've picked in your world, it had to be this one.

Leona thinks the man did something wrong, but there were no mentions of what he exactly did wrong. Either the man was truly bad or the woman simply had lost her mind.

Ruggie thinks the woman doesn't actually have a husband and has perceived herself as one to her object of affection.

Jack doesn't know what to make out of this, it's so creepy and loving in a twisted way.

Azul probably thinks you know how to hide bodies.

Vil thinks you are acting, if you are he'll maybe invite you for practice, but if you aren't. Well...

Rook thinks this is amazing with how much it tells about how bordering obsessive the singer sounds, all while studying your expressions.

He wakes head aches, funny taste to his tea~

I want him to stay here forever.

He's happiest with me!~

Cause' he~

The instruments go slower, more intense than the last, the violin doesn't sound dramatic, it sounds frantic.

It bursts like an overwhelming sense of emotions. Sudden eruption of a chorus with Kalim, Cater, Lilia, and others who prior to joining in.

He's My Man!~

And I'll Love Him Like Nobody Else Can!~

He's MY Man!~

He's gone quite mad!~

Poor guy. Everyone thought, but some didn't even care, not when they weren't in his place :(...

No, Nobody Has To Understand!~

The instruments grew louder until the drums were heard, the last verse went solo, only them. No one else.

Me And My Man!~

The show went silent after the music stops.

Now, you were thirsty.

"Hey what the- you can't just leave without explaining what the fuck was that!"

Said a purple short boy.

Now you got A LOT to explain. [Even with some freaks].

The End♡~

The ending is ambiguous so you can imagine yourself either running away, or facing whatever they're going to throw at you, whether questions or objects, idk.

I hope you enjoy!~

[phoebebuggers]

teaser preliminary thoughts

the opening scene being joyce and will talking about the vanishing of will byers was a very intentional choice - not only is will the central character this season, with a major plot point revolving around them discovering why and how will went missing and his connection to vecna (which i believe will also tie into holly's disappearance.) for a second i thought this could be a conversation about holly where joyce and will compare her being missing to what happened to will but i'm leaning toward no..it feels personal to me

the majority of the teaser was preexisting scenes, which i guess could be a little disappointing but it seemed like they wanted to ramp up the nostolgia with the st segment overall which is understandable for the show that "made" netflix. i also think we will be seeing those scenes with young will or maybe new ones from his disappearance as flashbacks anyways

edit: just realized i forgot this clip.. robin, will (*the* outfit!!) and erica in the background, not suure who's on the ledge behind joyce...someone let me know if you have a guess on what this wooden structure is, it almost looks like a stable or a barn. there's definitely some crazy shit behind that door, interesting that joyce seems to have a weapon and the other two do not. im really excited to see robin and joyce's dynamic (definitely see that playing a role in willl coming out)

i think there's a possibility that we'll see karen wheeler's character expanded on this season, possibly in tandem with the explanation for mike's behavior in the previous 2 seasons (the wheelers and conformity) as she takes on a role simillar to joyce in season 1. i'm wondering if this shot is before or after holly disappearing - also that one leak about karen getting injured (maybe in the process of protecting holly??) also, with the theme of conformity and ted wheeler generally sucking im wondering if his behavior this season will end up endangering the wheelers

definitely an emphasis on parent-child relationships this season (this is the third one we've seen). i think that we're going to see el and hopper working together in a way similar to the season 3 finale in a way that redeems that tragic ending, where hopper accepts that el isn't a kid who needs to be protected but a strong young woman who needs to be supported. i lowk have no idea what she's covering her ears about though, maybe coming down from projecting somewhere??

on the topic of hopper, rest in peace russia plotline, i have no idea how they're gonna resolve all that in hawkins lmao

seems like dustin is paired with the older teens again...which i lowk hate but it's kind of been that way since season 1 so i get it. i just don't understand the constant need to seperate him from the party. it looks like they might be in hawkins lab here, but i guess it could be anywhere

i was pretty much certain they were gonna show a shot like this in the teaser, max's coma is pretty much the biggest cliffhanger on the last season and they're going to continue to tease that. i love the coloring in this scene, i think we're gonna see lucas alone a lot this season in a more serious light than ever before (season 4 set the stage for this). i also don't see max getting a recovery until well into the second half of the season (but i do think she'll survive). i also think max is going to be up to a lot more than just laying in a hospital bed though, i really see her being able to reach el/vecna/will(?) through her mind and i think her and el will be paired a lot this season (maybe that's wishful thinking)

i think the two biggest mysteries they're hiding from audiences and shushing the cast about are whether max survives and whether byler is happening. and i think both of these things are happening...personally (notice that these two are the only couple shown together in the entire teaser).

this ss is bad but this is either two people (2 lights) or one person alone (1 flashlight and 1 lantern). i really want to know what that pink thing is, it almost looks like a head

mike is the heart of the party, blah blah blah....this shot really is so telling though like he's such a natural protector. i think we're reallly gonna see him return to his roots this season. it looks like the kids behind him are those new friends of erica's, and that's definitely joyce holding someone...they look too small to be will and i dont know why he would be hiding in the back like that anyway so i really dont know who that is. i think this definitely has to do with the vecna/mr whatsit plotline

im assuming erica is with this group as well but for some reason she isn't pictured. it seems like they're trying to introduce a kind of "new gen" of preteens this season which is a questionable choice for a finale but the duffers have always been good at getting us to care about new characters so i have faith.

finally will on his main character shit and the scream that was leaked - my working theory for this scene is that he's sensing something only he would know because of his connection to vecna and warning the other characters, possibly using himself as some kind of bait?? this is mostly a hunch tho. im not sure where he is here, it's definitely not the upside down but it looks kind of industrial?? the floor actually looks like to could be the same as the previous shot with mike but i dont think so

jonathan is getting absolutely ignored to my devastation, not a single feature unless he was the other character in that scene with joyce and the axe. i feel like he's one of the most likely characters to die but i really hope they do something interesting with him

nancy was also mia...we know she and jonathan are paired with steve and dustin at some point (car picture) but not sure what they're up to other than that nancy walk em down wheeler will be there im sure..

im down with the release schedule, we knew it was gonna be in parts and as a college student i am definitely glad it's during holidays/breaks because im going to want to watch asap. the wait might kill me though

on the topic of byler, i don't think this told us anything new but the fact that they didn't show mike with will or el at any point is good news in my opinion. will being front and center and mike taking a leadership role are signs to character development for both of them!!

[mvst4far]

CAMGIRL

𝐀𝐉 𝐗 𝐅.ᐟ𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─ With the pressure building up from planning a new heist with his crew, AJ relieves that stress by visiting a camgirl website.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ porn mention, phone sex, masturbation, lots of dirty talk, cum, "sweetie" & "pretty boy" used, pornstar/camgirl!reader & praises

divider creds ─ @bernardsbendystraws

── .✦ "Shit," He tosses his phone onto the desk, rubbing his temples the soothe them. This upcoming heist was very troubling. And with Gordon, and his demands, weren't helping one bit.

Sure, AJ was always pretty stressed out, but this week was even worse than ever. There were a million things running through his mind, that he could never catch a break.

And that's when an idea formed in his head.

The crew wouldn't mind if he took at least a thirty minute break to blow off some steam... right? Well, he didn't care anyways, since he was already opening his laptop up and typing in his password.

Usually, AJ would settle for some flimsy porn video with a lot of disgusting noises. But, today, he wanted something a little more.. interactive. So, he typed in a camgirl website and browsed throughout all the choices. Most of the women on there were fake. Plastic boobs, asses, and had botox. But, after scrolling a little more, he came across you. Your big, innocent looking eyes, your natural beauty, hair falling over your shoulders, and perfect body. AJ wasted no time putting in his credit card information.

Once entering the chat room, he seemed a little lost. He had never done anything like this before, so he was quite nervous. But when he saw your message come through, a small smirk tugs at his lips.

"Hi! I'm Cherry, what's your name?"

Of course he knew it was a stage name, but he didn't mind.

"AJ."

"Cute. Stand for anything?"

"Nah, it's just AJ."

"Perfect! Well, did you want to turn your camera and microphone on for me, AJ? I'll do the same if you do."

At first, he was a little hesitant. But, he really needed to blow off some steam. And so he did. Once AJ turned his camera and microphone on, you did the same. And just like before when he first came across you on the website, he was stunned by your beauty.

"Wow, you're beautiful." He huffs and shakes his head, leaning back into the office chair─his legs spreading further apart as he began to feel a tightness beneath his pants.

You giggle. "Same goes for you, handsome." You wink, "Now, have you done these sort of things before, or is it your first time on a camgirl website?"

"First time." He confirms.

"Okay, we'll go through step by step together then." You smile, clearing your throat. "First, I need you to get undressed for me. Can you do that, AJ?"

He nods, sitting up a little straighter. "Yeah, are you getting undressed as well?" He questions, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding the fabric off his shoulders.

"Of course, sweetie." You were only in a red lingerie set, but you were still going to go bare for him. "I like your tattoos, by the way. Very sexy." You compliment, unclipping your lace bra.

AJ feels a some sort of pride as you compliment his inked skin, the smirk almost irresistible. "I'm glad you like them."

He quickly pushes down his pants and boxers, letting his long, hard length spring against his abdomen. Once you both were completely naked for each other, you began instructing AJ where to touch himself.

"Tease your tip for me, pretty boy." You mumble, spitting onto the pad of your fingers and applying it to your clit to make it more wetter.

AJ sighs, his eyes glued to your pink, puffy pussy as he rubs his thumb over the head of his dick.

"Already cumming for me?" You giggle at the pre-leaking cum, sticking a finger inside of yourself with a whine leaving your throat.

Usually, AJ would have no problem with putting somebody in their place for teasing and tormenting. But, he just couldn't with your pretty face. "C'mon, you know it's because you're so beautiful. Don't act like such a tease." He began to stroke his veiny length.

You laugh, pearly whites exposed. "Sorry, you just make it too easy." You shrug, sliding another finger into yourself.

The thirty minutes turned into a whole hour, both of you cumming multiple times already. Legs shaking, breathing heavy, and sweat beads rolling down your temples.

Yes, you knew that AJ was just another client, but he seemed different from the other men that have entered your chat room. He was a lot more easy going, and overall a good company.

"C'mon, pretty boy.. cum for me again, yeah?" You whisper breathlessly, fingering your sticky swollen cunt.

"Uh-huh.." He nods, eyes half lidded while stroking his sensitive, slick cock sloppily.

After a few more of your dirty pushes and praises, he found himself coating his stomach white for the fourth time.

The two of you both took a few seconds to come down from your high's, catching your breaths as AJ ran a hand through his dirty blond hair.

"This might sound a little weird and too soon.. but, can I grab your number?" He asks, leaning back into his office chair.

You sigh, shaking your head. "I can't," You watch the disappointment seep through his features, and quickly think of a solution. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. Visit my chat room more often, and over the time we spend together, I'll think about possibly giving you my number."

AJ takes a moment to think about your proposal before nodding, a soft smile subtly peaking through. "Deal."

taglist: @alealuvshayden @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @estranged-girl @fredswrite @aritcfsr @amiratheangel { lmk if you would like to be added or removed! }

[pohyuck]

never just friends

ᯓ friends to lovers, hyuck & reader are both graduating, and both pining ☻ 5.3k wc!

ᯓ this one is inspired by one of your requests! but as someone who just graduated, it also draws a bit from my own daydreams, of having a high school or college sweetheart to walk across the graduation stage with :p

──── ☀︎

an interview. two chairs. one camera. and all the words they never said.

they both want to fix it. neither knows how

but if there was ever a moment to try again, it’s now—before the caps are tossed, before the goodbyes, before they go their separate ways for good

because sometimes, endings are just new beginnings waiting to happen

──── ☀︎ ────

the first snowfall of the semester comes early, blanketing the campus in white, like the sky is trying to cover up everything you’ve tried not to feel

you’re late. again.

the lecture hall door creaks open, and thirty pairs of eyes glance your way, but only one glance really lands

haechan.

you hesitate, just for a second. it’s not because you’re surprised to see him, of course he’s here. he always was. it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying not to feel something either. and just like that, ten months of silence feels like it never ended, like it’s still hanging in the air between you, thick and unfinished

the only empty seat is next to him. of course it is.

you make your way down the row, slow and quiet, and slide into the chair beside him. your hands grip your pen too tightly, like maybe it’ll hold you together

“wow,” he says under his breath, not even looking at you. “out of all the seats in the universe.” you don’t skip a beat. “trust me, i’m just as thrilled”

the professor starts talking. you try to focus, to pretend you can’t feel the weight of his presence next to you, but then your arms brush. just for a second. and neither of you move

it shouldn’t feel like anything. but it does. ten months ago, he was your best friend. now, he’s the guy you don’t talk to, or even look at

outside, the snow keeps falling. soft, steady, like the sky knows something you don’t. and for the first time in a long time, you let the thought drift in, uninvited but welcome– maybe this isn’t really the end.

*flashback* it’s nearly 2 a.m., and the campus is asleep, except for you and haechan. you’re both lying in the middle of the quad on a cheap picnic blanket he stole from his roommate. the sky is clear, a velvet canvas dusted with stars, and the cold grass presses through the blanket, prickling your back. but you don’t care. not when you’re laughing like this

“i’m serious,” he says between gasps, “if i ever become famous, i want my wikipedia page to say i invented ramen grilled cheese. that was a cultural reset” you snort. “you nearly set the kitchen on fire.” “greatness requires sacrifice”

you turn your head toward him, grinning in the dark. his eyes are already on you, soft and bright beneath the moonlight. this is what it used to be like– easy. effortless.

you’d tell him anything. he’d listen like it mattered. and he’d always, always find a way to make you laugh, even on your worst days.

“remember when we were fifteen,” you say, “and you swore we’d drop out of college to become youtubers?”

he groans. “okay, first of all, you said we’d be a duo. you were gonna do baking, and i’d handle commentary.” you nudge him with your elbow. “and you were going to get us cancelled in week one.” “that was part of the brand”

you both laugh again, the kind that starts small and builds into something uncontrollable. it fills the quiet night, echoing between empty buildings and forgotten dreams. and somewhere between the laughter and the silence that follows, you realize how much you love him

not in a dramatic, fall-to-your-knees kind of way. just in the way your heart settles when he’s beside you. in the way the world feels less sharp. in the way you want to pause this moment and keep it in your pocket forever.

but you don’t say it. you never do

instead, you breathe in the night and whisper, “let’s not grow up too fast.” and he, still watching the sky, replies, “not if we can help it” *end of flashback*

you don't even remember how you got roped into it. one second, your friend from the media club was rambling about their "senior spotlight series" something about legacy, friendship, full-circle moments, and the next, you're sitting on the cold steps of the old library waiting for him

because apparently, when people think of iconic friendships on campus, they still think of you and him. the best friends. the duo. they don’t know the story stopped a while ago. quietly. like a door that never fully closed

he arrives five minutes late, with that same careless swagger he’s always had, like nothing touches him, not even time. he meets your eyes for a second before looking away

“didn’t think you’d actually show,” he says, voice light, but not teasing. you shrug. “didn’t think you would either”

the media team gives you a quick rundown. photos first, then a short filmed interview. “just a few questions about your friendship,” the girl says cheerily. “how you met, favorite memories, what you’ve learned from each other. that kind of thing”

you want to laugh. or maybe scream.

instead, you sit beside him on the stone bench, pretending your skin isn’t on fire just from being near him again. the camera clicks. once. twice. and then the girl says, “okay, now look at each other”

you hesitate. he does too

but you turn. and for the first time in what feels like forever, your eyes meet– and stay.

and there it is. the weight of the silence. the things you never said. the laughter that used to be effortless. the memory of a night under the stars when you almost told him you loved him– and didn’t. “perfect,” the photographer says, completely unaware. you look away first

a few minutes later, you're sitting in front of a camera. someone asks, “what made your friendship so special?” you blink. haechan stays quiet

and all you can think is: do we even get to call it a friendship anymore?

the lights in the small studio hum quietly, the camera lens trained on you like it’s trying to see straight through your chest

the interviewer smiles, warm and expectant. “so, what made your friendship so special?”

you glance sideways at haechan. his jaw is tight, but his eyes hold a flicker of something, maybe nostalgia, maybe regret

you breathe out. “it was easy,” you say finally. “like… no matter how bad the day was, or how messy everything got, we somehow made each other feel like it was okay to just be ourselves”

the camera keeps rolling, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat and haechan shifts in his seat, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than you remember. “we knew all the worst parts, and we didn’t run”

you want to say that’s what makes it different now, that you both ran, or maybe froze. but you swallow the words

“did you have a favorite memory together?” the interviewer asks. your mind flashes back, the quiet quad nights, the laughter spilling over like a tide

“the night we stayed up until two in the morning, just talking,” you say, voice catching a little. “we didn’t have a plan. we weren’t worried about anything except being there. it felt like time didn’t exist”

his eyes find yours, and for a moment, it’s like the space between you isn’t so vast

“yeah,” he says, “like the world was smaller with just us in it”

the interviewer smiles, clearly moved. the camera clicks off

you both sit in the sudden stillness, the kind that stretches between people who used to be so close it hurt

neither of you says it– but both of you know it’s true. maybe this is the first step to finding your way back

the interviewer steps away, giving you both space, but the air still feels tight, like a held breath neither of you knows how to release

you shift in your seat, fingers twitching. then, almost without thinking, you glance down at the stack of papers in your lap, the notes from the interview questions

one slips and flutters to the floor. before you can reach for it, haechan’s hand is already there, picking it up. his fingers brush yours for a second as he hands it back, and it feels electric. you both freeze.

then, without looking up, he murmurs, “can’t believe you still remember that night”

your heart twists, and you nod slowly. “how could i forget?” he laughs. soft, genuine, and unexpected “guess some memories don’t fade,” he says

you want to say something. anything. but the words catch in your throat. instead, you smile. just a little. and for the first time since this whole mess began, it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re not so far apart after all

*flashback* you never imagined that something as small as a grade could break you

it was the week of midterms. you and haechan– both top of your class, the golden duo of the liberal arts department, had always pushed each other to be better. friendly rivalry, or so you told yourself

but that week, it wasn’t friendly

the final paper was due on a friday. you stayed up all night, pouring everything into it, hoping your research would outshine his. you saw it as a challenge, and maybe a way to prove who was better

when the grades came back monday, he had a perfect score. a hundred. you had ninety-seven

you felt the sting more than you expected.

later that day, you bumped into him in the library. you tried to joke it off, something like, “congrats on beating me.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “you almost had it. next time”

you nodded, but inside, the competitiveness twisted into something bitter. that evening, you found out he’d told your classmates you weren’t serious enough about your future, that you cared more about winning than learning.

you confronted him the next day, heart thudding in your chest. “why would you say that? you know it’s not true.” he looked away, frustration lining his face. “maybe you do care more about being the best than about us”

the words cut deeper than you expected. “you’re making this into something it’s not,” you snapped. he shook his head. “maybe it’s exactly what it is.”

the argument spiraled– voices raised, accusations flung, pride blocking every bridge back. by the end, you weren’t sure why you were fighting anymore– just that you couldn’t stop

that night, you didn’t text him. he didn’t text you.

and that was how it began. *end of flashback*

you meet ryumi and yuki at your favorite campus café, the cozy warmth a stark contrast to the cold tension you’re carrying

ryumi orders a chai latte; yuki grabs a black coffee. you’re just trying to focus on the steam curling up from your own cup

“so,” ryumi says, leaning forward with that gleam in her eyes, “what’s really going on with you and haechan? sitting next to him in class? that must’ve been... something”

you take a slow breath, staring down at your cup. “it was weird. like, we used to finish each other’s sentences, and now we barely talk. it’s like there’s this wall between us that neither of us knows how to climb”

yuki frowns, “do you want to fix it? i mean, you guys were inseparable. it’s hard to imagine it all just... ended” you shrug, voice soft. “i don’t know. i want to. i guess i just don’t know where to start. we both got hurt, and maybe we’re scared of getting hurt again”

ryumi reaches out and squeezes your hand. “sometimes the hardest part is just saying it out loud. maybe you need to talk to him. like, really talk” you glance up, meeting their encouraging eyes. “yeah. i think you’re right”

yuki grins. “we’re here for you.” you smile, feeling a flicker of hope light up inside. maybe this winter isn’t about endings after all

──── ☀︎

the camera’s red light blinks steadily as you and haechan sit side by side again, the earlier awkwardness softened into something quieter, something more real

the interviewer smiles gently. “you’ve already shared some memories about your friendship. but i’m curious, what’s something you’ve learned from each other that you didn’t expect?”

you glance at haechan, and this time, his eyes meet yours without hesitation.

“i learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness,” you say slowly. “haechan taught me that it’s okay to show the parts of yourself you think might scare others away. he’s not just this confident guy everyone sees, he’s brave enough to be himself, even when it’s hard”

haechan clears his throat and then nods. “and from you, i learned patience. you’ve always been steady, even when i was reckless or stubborn. you showed me that sometimes, the best way to handle things isn’t to charge ahead, but to wait and listen”

the interviewer leans forward, intrigued. “is there a moment that stands out, something that changed how you saw each other?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, “there was a time when everything between us was breaking apart,” you say. “but even then, he never stopped caring. he was the first one to reach out, even when i pushed him away. that made me realize how much he truly meant to me”

his smile is soft, almost shy. “yeah… i guess sometimes you have to lose something to understand how much it matters”

the room feels warm despite the chill outside, and for a fleeting moment, you both sit with the unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, this story isn’t over

the interviewer finally shuts off the camera, and the sudden silence feels heavy, but not in a bad way. more like the kind of quiet that settles after something important has been said

you breathe out, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. looking over at haechan, you catch the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips

“didn’t expect that to go so... deep,” you say, half-teasing but mostly amazed. he shrugs, eyes still fixed on the floor for a second before meeting yours

“yeah. feels weird, but good. like peeling back a layer you didn’t know was there,” he says, and you nod, cheeks warming. “i guess sometimes it takes a camera and a stupid interview to say what’s been stuck inside”

haechan’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, his voice low. “maybe it’s not so stupid after all”

you want to say something, something that might change everything, but the words get caught in your throat. instead, you just sit there, side by side, the space between you feeling less like a canyon and more like a bridge

outside, the winter sun filters through the window, promising something new. and for once, you both believe it just might be true

──── ☀︎

haechan flopped onto his dorm bed, rubbing the back of his neck as yangyang tossed him a bottle of water

“man, you’ve been stuck in your room all day,” yangyang teased, plopping down on the floor. “you need to get out, clear your head”

him and his friends were scattered around the room, lounging in various states of exhaustion from midterms

jeno nudged renjun. “there’s a party tonight at dery’s place. might be good to blow off some steam”

jaemin grinned. “yeah, come on, haechan. you’ve been avoiding everyone since that interview with y/n”

haechan stiffened a little, the memory of the interview still fresh. “i’m not avoiding. just… thinking”

yangyang raised an eyebrow. “thinking or overthinking? you were practically glowing after you guys finished. that was new”

“yeah,” jeno chimed in, “it was like you finally said some of the stuff you never could before. been rough, huh?”

haechan sighed, glancing out the window. “yeah, it’s complicated. we haven’t been ‘us’ for a while. but maybe… maybe that interview was a start”

renjun nodded thoughtfully. “sounds like you two have some unfinished business. party might be good for a break, but don’t lose sight of that”

jaemin smirked. “or you could end up at the party, thinking about her the whole time.” haechan chuckled softly. “yeah, probably”

yangyang stood up and stretched. “well, party or no party, you gotta do what feels right. but a night out could be just the distraction you need.” haechan nodded slowly. “maybe you’re right. i could use some fresh air”

jeno tossed him a set of keys. “then what are you waiting for? let’s go.” as the group headed out, haechan took a deep breath, feeling the mix of nerves and something like hope swirling inside. tonight wasn’t about fixing everything–it was just the next step

the bass thumped through the crowded dorm common room, a chaotic swirl of laughter, music, and chatter filling every corner. haechan weaved through the crowd, a drink in hand, trying to focus on the easy conversations around him, but his mind kept drifting back to you, being lead to the point for him to convince himself that he’s hallucinating as he laid eyes on you. he hadn’t expected to see you. especially tonight

and yet, there you were, near the snack table, laughing with a group of friends. his breath hitched for a second as your eyes caught his across the room

for a heartbeat, everything froze– the noise, the people, the flashing lights– all faded into the background

you looked surprised, then smiled, a small, genuine curve of your lips that made something inside him unclench

haechan swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way over, each step feeling like a mile. “hey,” he said, voice quieter than he’d intended. you looked up, startled but pleased

“haechan. didn’t expect to see you here”

he shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “yangyang dragged me out. figured i needed to get some fresh air… or whatever this is.”

you laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar. “yeah, i needed the same”

there was a pause, neither of you quite sure what to say next. finally, you broke the silence. “so… how did the interview go? i saw some clips online” he smiled, a little sheepishly. “honestly? it was harder than I thought. talking about us, about what we lost”

you nodded, eyes searching his

“but maybe it’s a start.” he met your gaze steadily. “yeah. maybe it is.”

the music throbbed louder, but this moment, this unexpected meeting, felt like the quiet in the storm. and for the first time in a long time, haechan thought maybe things could really change

for a few minutes, the conversation flows easily, memories, jokes, small smiles. then, like a shadow slipping through the light, the topic shifts

“so,” you say, voice careful, “do you still think about… what happened? why we fell apart?”

haechan’s smile falters. his eyes darken just a little. “all the time”

you look away, heart tightening. “it was such a stupid fight. over grades, of all things.” he laughs, but it’s bitter. “yeah, who knew academic competition could wreck everything?”

the music pulses around you, but all you feel is the fragile thread between you– stretched, but not broken. and somewhere beneath the tension, hope flickers

the tension lingers, thick but no longer suffocating. instead, it feels like a wall just starting to crack. haechan exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to shake off the weight of months. “i don’t want to keep pretending none of this happened. or that it didn’t hurt.”

you meet his gaze, “me neither. maybe… we owe it to ourselves to try again. to actually talk, not just compete or hide behind silence.” he smiles, small but real, the kind that reaches his eyes. “yeah. maybe this time, we don’t let pride get in the way.”

the music shifts to a slower song, and the crowd moves around you both, but all you feel is the space shrinking between you.

“want to get out of here?” you ask quietly.

“definitely ,” he says, offering his hand.

as you take it, a surge of something hopeful blooms inside– a fragile, beautiful chance to rewrite your story. and maybe this time, you’ll finally get it right

──── ☀︎

you’re curled up on the worn-out couch in your favorite campus coffee shop, the smell of fresh espresso and cinnamon swirling around you

your friends are gathered close, their eyes warm and expectant. “so,” yuki says, grinning, “spill. how’s the whole ‘reconnecting with haechan’ thing going?” you bite your lip, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater. “it’s… complicated”

they exchange knowing looks. “come on, you can tell us” you take a deep breath, heart pounding. “the truth is… i never really stopped liking him. not just as a friend. maybe it was there all along, but i was too scared to admit it”

ryumi reaches over and squeezes your hand. “girl, we’ve been waiting for you to say that forever. it’s so obvious to everyone but you.”

yuki chimes in, “you guys were perfect together. you owe it to yourself to fix this before we graduate. what if you never get the chance again?”

you glance down, feeling both hopeful and terrified. “yeah, but what if it’s too late? what if we’re too far gone?” they shake their heads firmly. “no way. you’re not giving up on something that means this much. not now”

their faith feels like a lifeline, and suddenly, you’re ready. “okay,” you say, voice steady, “i’m going to try. for real this time”

your friends cheer, clinking their coffee cups together. “to fixing what’s broken,” they toast.

and for the first time in a long time, you believe it just might be possible

later that night, your room is bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp. outside, the campus is still, the world muted beneath a blanket of stars

you sit on your bed, your heart feels heavy, tangled with memories and “what ifs.”

what if you had been braver? what if you hadn’t let pride get in the way? what if you told him how you really felt back then?

a sigh escapes you. but somewhere beneath the regret, there’s a flicker of something new– a fragile hope that maybe this time, things can be different

you stare at your phone, thumb hovering over the message app. your heart is pounding like a drum in your chest, but you know this is the moment. no more hiding, no more silence.

seconds feel like hours. then, a reply: "yeah. i’d like that.”

taking a deep breath, you type: “hey, can we talk? i think there’s a lot we need to clear up.” you hit send before you can change your mind

relief floods you, warm and sudden. the night air is crisp and quiet when you arrive at the quad. the familiar stretch of grass, the faint glow of distant street lamps– everything feels the same, yet charged with possibility

moments later, haechan appears, his expression unreadable but softened by the low light. you both stand there for a beat, the weight of months hanging between you

“i’ve been thinking about that night a lot,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “about how easy it was... before everything went wrong.”

he nods slowly. “me too.”

you take a step closer, the cold grass crunching softly beneath your shoes. “maybe we can find that again.” haechan meets your eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “yeah. maybe this time, we won’t let it slip away.”

and in that quiet moment, under the stars where it all began, you feel the first real hope of something new

after that night in the quad, things didn’t suddenly get perfect. but somehow, once we broke the silence, every day felt a little easier—little by little.

most afternoons, that’s where we ended up— the quad, the place where everything used to feel effortless. we’d bring some snacks, maybe a playlist on his phone, and just hang out

one day at the library, though, we studied side by side, textbooks open, but honestly, we barely focused. we’d throw playful jabs back and forth about who’d get the better grade on the next paper. when I got stuck on a tough question, he reached over to help, and our hands brushed for just a second. and that little touch felt like a spark

nights became our thing again. we’d walk the quiet campus paths under the stars, talking about things we’d never said out loud before. our hands bumped, lingered, and no one pulled away

the silence wasn’t awkward anymore. it felt like something waiting to happen. and for a second, it felt like we were just kids again, no past hurts, no tension, just us

it wasn’t instant or perfect, but day by day, we were finding our way back. and honestly? it felt better than I could have ever imagined

“graduation’s coming fast.”

“too fast,” he agreed. there was a pause before he added, “i think about walking across that stage and not having you beside me. and i don’t want that. not again.”

your heart thudded, slow and loud in your chest. “i don’t either. we’ve come too far to go separate ways again.” he looked at you– really looked– and something in his gaze felt like an anchor, grounding you both to this moment. “what we have… it’s not just something we stumbled back into, is it?”

you shook your head. “no. we chose this. we’re choosing it every day.” he reached out then, his fingers brushing yours, and this time you didn’t hesitate. you tangled your hand in his, holding tight

“i want to walk with you,” he said softly. “not just at graduation, but after. wherever we’re going, wherever life takes us.”

and under that star-scattered sky, you squeezed his hand and smiled. “then don’t let go.”

──── ☀︎

graduation week arrives in a blur of last papers, goodbye hugs, and the kind of bittersweet laughter that seems to echo longer than usual. there’s a countdown hanging in the air, not just to walking the stage, but to the end of this chapter, of this version of your lives. you feel it in every corner of campus. but when you’re with haechan, somehow, it still feels like home

he waits for you after class with your favorite drink in hand, like clockwork. walks you back to your dorm. teases you about crying at rehearsal. everything you used to do– but different now. warmer. closer.

that night, the sky is clouded over, the quad quiet but not cold. you’re sitting on the blanket again, this time under a string of fairy lights your friend strung up for some end-of-semester picnic. most of the crowd has cleared out, leaving just you two. a little music hums from someone’s portable speaker a few feet away, distant and slow

he’s lying beside you, arms tucked behind his head, his voice low. “do you remember our first night out here? not the ramen-grilled-cheese night. before that.” you nod. “we had no idea what we were doing. you told me you wanted to be a novelist.”

“and you told me i’d probably write your acknowledgments because i talk too much.”

he laughs softly, eyes shifting toward you. “i think i just liked the idea of doing something worth remembering… if it meant you'd be there.” the quiet stretches between you, and this time it’s not soft, it’s full

he sits up slightly, propping himself on an elbow, face suddenly closer than it’s been in weeks. your breath catches

he doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you in the kind of silence that feels like something tipping. the kind that always comes before a first kiss

“i think I’ve been falling for you since the second time we sat here,” he says finally, voice barely audible. “but i didn’t say it, because i thought i already lost you once.”

you blink, heart pounding.

your hand finds his cheek, and he leans into it so naturally, like he’s done it a thousand times in dreams. and then, slowly, without any of the usual drama or panic, he kisses you

it’s soft at first, like a question. his lips move against yours carefully, like he’s still afraid you’ll vanish. but you kiss him like you never will again. like this is your answer to every quiet moment you never spoke through. every almost.

when you part, foreheads pressed together, he exhales against your skin. “we’re really doing this.” you smile. “yeah. we are.”

that night, he walks you home, fingers laced with yours the whole way. you don’t say goodbye at the door, not really. just a kiss goodnight, a promise, and the quiet comfort of knowing this time… neither of you is walking away

the ceremony is over, but your head’s still spinning. there are too many hugs, too many camera flashes, too many people crying while confetti falls from nowhere

someone’s blasting a graduation playlist from the speaker. a champagne cork flies past your shoulder. and yet, through it all, you only see him

haechan, laughing in a sea of caps and gowns, eyes scanning until they land on you. and then he’s moving toward you, weaving through friends and faculty like the only place he wants to be is next to you

and when he reaches you, neither of you says anything at first. you just smile, tired and teary-eyed and overwhelmed in the best way.

“hey,” he says, breathless. “you did it.”

“you too,” you reply, voice thick with emotion. “we did.”

he lifts his hand slowly, hesitates, then brushes your tassel back from your cheek, his fingers lingering. “can i steal you?” he asks.

you nod. he takes your hand without asking this time, and the two of you slip away from the noise, around the back of the old library, and across the campus you’ve memorized together, to the quad

it’s quieter here. golden. the sunlight’s softer now, dappled through the trees. the grass is warm under your feet, and the stage feels far behind you. you sit down, still in your gown, heels kicked off, hearts thudding

“so…” he starts, playing with the corner of his sleeve, “we graduated.”

“we did.”

“and we kissed.”

you laugh. “yeah. that too.”

there’s a beat of silence, and then he looks at you– really looks at you– and you feel it in your chest, how serious this is. how long it’s been building

“y/n..” he finally breaks the silence,

“i’ve loved you for years,” and this time, there’s no hesitation. “even when we stopped talking. even when i hated myself for messing it up. i never stopped”

you don’t answer right away, not because you’re unsure, but because your throat is tight and your heart is full and you’ve waited so long to say this

“i loved you when we were fifteen and thought youtube fame was our calling,” you finally whisper. “i loved you when I didn’t know how to show it. and I love you now.”

he leans forward, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed like he’s soaking up the weight of your words. “so what does that make us now?” you smile, brushing your thumb across his cheek.

“whatever we want to be. we’ve got time now.”

he kisses you again– soft and certain, like there’s no turning back. and when he pulls away, he’s still smiling. “okay. then let’s start with this: i’m yours.” you take his hand again, lacing your fingers through his. “and i’m yours.”

around you, the sun keeps setting. the quad begins to empty. and as the last chapter closes behind you, a new one begins, quieter, sweeter, and filled with everything you never had the words for before

and as the world shifts around you, futures unfolding, time pulling you forward, his hand stays in yours, steady, warm, familiar.

no more pretending.

no more almosts.

just you and him, in the place where it all began, hearts speaking the truth your mouths had once been too afraid to say

because some love stories never needed to start with a kiss to be real. some love stories were written long before the first chapter

and this one? it was never a friendship gone wrong. it was always a love that took the long way home. because the truth is— you were never just friends.

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Not That Song, Becca!!~ Drabble

Summery: Becca Barnes sings Katy Perry’s “Peacock” at full volume—thanks to Uncle Sam. Bucky and Y/N are horrified. Chaos (and parental panic) ensues.

Characters: dad!husband! Bucky Barnes x mom!wife!reader

||Main Masterlist|| ||Drabble Masterlist||

Which, for a home that contained one six-year-old ball of sunshine and trouble named Rebecca Barnes, usually meant one thing—something terrible was about to happen.

Y/N glanced up from the book she was reading on the couch. “Bucky… where’s Becca?”

Bucky, who was in the kitchen attempting to make pancakes that didn’t look like war crimes, froze. “I… don’t know.”

“Bucky.”

“I thought she was coloring in the living room.”

Y/N set the book down. “We haven’t heard a peep in twenty minutes. She’s not coloring. She’s plotting.”

At that exact moment, a loud, somewhat pitchy voice rang out from upstairs—bold, high, and utterly inappropriate:

“I wanna see your peacooock, cock, cock—your peacock, cock! Your peacock!”

Y/N’s soul left her body.

Bucky dropped the spatula.

They stared at each other, horror creeping in like slow, suffocating fog.

“…She’s not singing what I think she’s singing,” Y/N whispered.

But Becca’s voice rose louder, unbothered and joyful, echoing through the halls of the Barnes household like an enthusiastic alarm siren of doom:

“Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock? Don’t be a chicken, boy, stop acting like a bee-yotch!”

“Oh my God,” Bucky hissed, wide-eyed. “Where did she learn that?!”

Y/N didn’t answer. She was already sprinting up the stairs. Bucky followed closely behind, muttering something about shielding his baby girl’s ears with vibranium or holy water.

They burst into Becca’s room to find her dancing on her bed in mismatched socks and a Captain America hoodie two sizes too big, holding a hairbrush like a microphone.

Her eyes lit up when she saw them.

“Mom! Dad! Watch this part, Uncle Sam said it’s his favorite!”

Y/N blinked. “Sam?!”

“I wanna see your peacooock—!”

“Becca!” Bucky barked like a soldier catching a live grenade.

The little girl stopped mid-twirl, confused.

“What?” she asked innocently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Uncle Sam said it was about… confidence!”

“Confidence?!” Y/N screeched. “Sweetie, that song is not about confidence.”

“It’s not?” Becca’s face scrunched. “But he said—”

“Of course he did,” Bucky grumbled, running a hand over his face. “That traitor.”

Y/N walked over and gently took the pretend microphone from Becca’s hand, crouching to meet her eye-level.

“Okay, sweetheart. We love that you love to sing. You’ve got… really enthusiastic stage presence. But maybe let’s stick to songs that don’t involve saying… uh… ‘peacock’ twenty-seven times, yeah?”

“But it’s the chorus!” Becca insisted. “It’s catchy!”

“You know what else is catchy?” Bucky interrupted, crossing his arms. “The flu, and we don’t sing about that, either.”

Becca frowned, confused but sensing she was in trouble. “Uncle Sam said it was from the bird zoo.”

“I bet he did,” Y/N muttered under her breath, already planning Sam’s death via glitter bomb and passive-aggressive text. “We’ll have a talk with him.”

Bucky crouched beside Y/N and gave Becca a tight smile. “Why don’t we listen to a different song, hmm? Something more… kid-friendly.”

“Like what?”

“Like… Let It Go. That one’s still a hit, right?”

Becca made a face like someone had fed her broccoli dipped in disappointment. “Boring. I wanna sing something cool.”

Bucky leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a government secret.

“I’ll tell you what’s really cool. Not singing about birds that aren’t birds. And maybe not saying ‘bee-yotch’ until you’re thirty.”

“Thirty?” Becca gasped in horror.

“Thirty-five,” Y/N corrected. “And only if we’re not around to hear it.”

Becca pouted, arms crossed. “Fine.”

Y/N pulled her into a hug. “Come on, rockstar. Let’s go downstairs and pick a playlist that doesn’t make Mommy and Daddy wish they had ear bleach.”

As they guided her back toward the stairs, Becca piped up again:

“…Can I at least keep the dance moves?”

Bucky groaned. “As long as there’s no shaking involved.”

Becca giggled.

Y/N leaned into her husband, muttering under her breath, “You know Sam’s going to get an angry voicemail, right?”

“Oh, he’s not just getting a voicemail. He’s getting a full musical performance of Baby Shark from Becca. On repeat. At six in the morning.”

Y/N smiled. “Now that’s parenting revenge.”

-the end

[favefandomimagines]

No Caller ID (d.s)

Summary: y/n is trying to move on but Drew keeps working his way back in

Drew Starkey x country singer!reader, smau! Megan Moroney face claim

Am I Okay?

I Know You

Hell of a Show

Indifferent

Bless Your Heart

Taglist: @maybankslover @letstryagaintomorrow @cherrywriterrr @cokewithcameron

AN: obvs since this is a Drew Starkey fic and not a Joe Burrow fic, I have to plant the seeds for a reconciliation lol

joeyb_9 added to their story

Liked by madelyncline, joeyb_9, madisonbaileybabe, hichasestokes and 563 others

celebupdates: the stars are out for night one of Y/N Y/L/N’s Nashville shows. Joe Burrow, Madelyn Cline, Chase Stokes, Kelsea Ballerini, and Madison Bailey, are out supporting Y/N

643 Comments

username: we love supportive friends

username: I’m so happy she has such a good support system

username: I wonder if Drew is there…

username: a friend of mine saw him this morning at a breakfast place off broadway

username: 👀

Call between Y/N and Drew

Y/N (quietly): Hello?

Drew (softly): Hey... it’s me.

Y/N: (sighs) I figured. Kinda surprised you called. It’s been weeks

Drew: I wasn’t sure you’d pick up. But I needed to talk to you. Really talk to you.

Y/N: You picked a hell of a time—I'm going on in twenty minutes.

Drew: I know. I just… I couldn't let another week go by without saying something.

Y/N (pauses): Then say it.

Drew: Those photos… Y/N, I swear to you, what they looked like—it’s not what happened.

Y/N: You were holding her. She looked—comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who knows you're with someone else.

Drew: I thought she was just hugging me goodbye after the scene. We’d wrapped for the day. I didn’t know she was going to—press herself into me like that. I pushed her off right after. I told her it wasn’t okay. I told her about us—about how serious we are. Or… were.

Y/N (quietly): So you did say something?

Drew: Immediately. But it was too late. Someone had already snapped the pictures. And Odessa... she didn’t care. I set boundaries early on. Told her I had someone. She kept pushing it.

Y/N: Then why was she liking those comments? The ones calling me insecure. Saying I was a bottle blonde singer and I’m not your type.

Drew (sharply): I confronted her. Lit her up through text, I won't lie. Told her she crossed a line. She said it was “just a joke” and that I was overreacting. I made it clear I wasn't.

Y/N: Why didn’t you say something sooner?

Drew: Because I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me. Every day I wanted to call, and every day I saw you getting linked to Joe, and I—I don’t know. I felt like I lost my right to even ask where we stood.

Y/N (softly): Joe’s just a friend. He’s been there. That’s it. He listens.

Drew: And I get that. It’s not my business anymore. But... I’m still in love with you. Even if it’s selfish to say. Even after everything, I’m still yours—at least in my heart.

Y/N (voice wavering): You still have a backstage pass?

Drew: I do. From before... everything.

Y/N: I can’t stop you from coming. But I don’t know what seeing you will do to me.

Drew: I won’t push. I just want to be near you. Even if it’s from the side stage, behind security, I don’t care. I miss you. And I needed you to hear the truth from me—not from the internet.

Y/N (after a long pause): I appreciate you telling me. I’m... not ready to make sense of any of this or just fall back into how we were before. But I’m not ready to close the door, either.

Drew: That’s enough for me. For now.

Y/N: I uh, have to go. They’re calling me for places.

Drew: Okay. Knock 'em dead, rockstar.

Y/N: …Thanks.

Drew: I love you, Y/N.

Y/N: (pauses) …I know.

Liked by drewstarkey, madelyncline, kelseaballerini, joeyb_9, madisonbaileybabe and 824 others

y/nusername: Nashville, I love you. Night one was incredible! Let’s give the Am I Okay? tour a killer send off tomorrow 💙

899 Comments

drewstarkey added to their story

[daniiwrites]

Fire We Make - Chapter 1

Hello lovelies... Those of you who have been following my works for a while have read this one before. It's being reworked a tiny bit, replacing Chadwick with Aaron Pierre. I really wanted to finish this story, but obviously, after Chadwick's death, I never did.

So I'm trying again. :) Reworking this to fit a different timeline and a different love. So bear with me. I hope you enjoy this.

Pairing: Aaron Pierre and OC, Nailah Monroe (face claim is Justine Skye)

Warnings: Minors DNI.

Summary: Nailah Monroe is a young production assistant who gets the chance of a lifetime. She was just trying to live the dream and meets the love of her life in the last place she was looking: work.

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter 1

April 13, 2022

It had been a long time since she’d been to her mom’s hometown of New Orleans, Louisiana. Too long in fact. She took a deep breath, catching the familiar smell of fresh baked goods and brewed coffee. Nailah Monroe had arrived just a few hours earlier, excited to be working on her next project, a film called Rebel Ridge. Her homeboy Joe, the second assistant director, had gotten her the job running first team and she was super excited. She’d been asking the universe for bigger and better and it felt like it was finally happening. Here she was, working on a multimillion dollar movie and working her way up the ladder. 

Soon come. Her dreams were manifesting right in front of her.

Although she loved Los Angeles, it was nice to get a break from the city. Nicer to have a steady paycheck for a few months. Camera tests were tomorrow and after that, they were scheduled to start filming on the eighteenth. Her mom had been excited when she’d told her that Don Johnson was on the cast but Nailah was more intrigued by the male lead, a young actor named Aaron Pierre. She hadn’t had the opportunity to meet him yet, but just based on the photos she’d see of him…. Good Lord. What a beautiful specimen. Even in a photograph, his stare was something else. Those eyes were crazy beautiful. She’d done a bit of googling on the flight here and she’d found some snippets of his theater work. Nailah had never once crossed that line at work and dated an actor, but Mr. Aaron Pierre was sorely tempting her toss those values to the side and ride his thigh to kingdom come. 

Girl.. control yourself. Its just a man.

Like always, Nailah prepped her clothes for tomorrow and gathered everything she’d need for work. Although she’d worked with Joe before, the rest of the crew was new to her and she wanted to make a good impression. In this business, people liking you and wanting to work with you again was the key to booking jobs. You could be excellent at what you did, but if folks couldn’t stand to be around you, good luck finding your next gig. This film’s AD department was pretty stacked. There were four additional production assistants, including her, and three ADs. She’d heard of their key PA but hadn’t worked with him before. After all the good things she’d heard, she was really looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. As with every job, she could feel the nerves building in her belly. She wasn’t actually nervous…. It was more just the anxiety of meeting a bunch of new people and hoping all the actors she’d be working with her cool. No pre-madonnas please. Nailah had been lucky so far and wanted to keep that streak going.

Day 1: Camera Test

Second Line Stages

8 AM

Soft echos and murmurs filled the large sound stage as the camera team and lighting department worked together to get everything set just right for this morning’s work. One of the first things Nailah had done when she’d arrived was introduced herself to all the department heads who were there, letting them know that she was running first team and wanted to be of assistance whenever possible. Nailah often stood out on set. She was usually the only woman on her team and nine times out of ten, the only Black woman in the department. She’d also come to develop a signature look thanks to her lash artist and friend. Her lash extensions were a vibrant mix of purples, pink tipped turquoise and dark blues and paired with her usual curly hair, people often described her as the pretty PA with the purple lashes. A glance at the call sheet let her know that her number one, Aaron, should be arriving anytime now. After a quick walkie check, she headed out to meet him in front of the stage. The harsh New Orleans sun was already blazing and Nailah slid her dark shades over her eyes. 

A sleek black SUV pulled up, parking in one of the designated parking spots. The back door opened and Nailah sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she watched the movie’s star unfold his big body from the luxury SUV. 

“Goddamn…” she murmured softly before schooling her face and radioing her bosses. “Number one has landed.”

Nailah pushed herself off the wall, a friendly smile on her face as she walked towards the SUV.

“Good morning!”

The moment those deep green eyes of his landed on her, she was lost. His gaze was so piercing that it felt like in that brief moment, he saw all of her. She swallowed hard before relaxing, letting her eyes drop briefly to his lips.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep baritone sending all kinds of inappropriate tingles through her body. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aaron.”

He flashed a friendly smile and stuck his free hand out to her, his other hand gripping an iced coffee. His massive paw swallowed her hand.

“It's nice to meet you too. I’m Nailah. I’ll be running first team. I can show you inside to your dressing room.”

“Nailah... that's really pretty name.”

“Thank you! It’s Arabic for ‘successful’. My parents had high hopes,” she said with a little laugh.

“Looks like you’re well on your way,” he said, flashing a devastating smile at her.

As she turned and headed back towards the sound stage door, she was grateful for the brief respite of that gaze. When he shook her hand, her nipples had immediately gone rock hard and all she could do was hope her bra hid her reaction from him. Goddamn that man was fine as hell… Before she could grab the handle, his big hand shot out and pulled it open, motioning for her to step inside first. She murmured a soft thank you before guiding him over to his dressing room on stage. 

“Ah.. costumes set up your clothes for you over there,” she said, pointing at a clothing rack. “I can take you to hair and makeup first and then you can get dressed after. They’re still setting up lights and cameras, so I’ll try to get you an update as to when camera will be ready. Can I get you anything to eat?”

Aaron sat his bag down on the sofa before turning to look at her. She was a stunning little thing. He couldn’t help but to noticed those big doe eyes. Eyes were his favorite thing on a woman, followed very closely by a nice ass. Aaron bit back a smile as he sneakily let his eyes drift over the pretty production assistant. She had both.

“Any chance I could get an egg scramble?”

“Sure can.” She pulled her cell phone out and glanced up at him. “What do you want in it?”

“Mushrooms, onions, extra turkey and cheese. Ask him for like four or five eggs please.”

“You got it.” 

Aaron followed her over to the hair and makeup room and she left the ladies to get to work and made her way over to the small catering they had set up for the shoot today.

“What can I get you, baby?”

Nailah couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth when she heard that infamous New Orleans accent. She loved it so damn much.

“Good morning… I’ll take a scramble with five eggs, mushrooms, onions, extra turkey and cheese? And can I also have a bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant please?”

“Coming right up.”

While breakfast was being cooked up, she doctored up a cup of coffee for herself, sighing softly when she took her first sip of the hot drink. Her sleep schedule had been a little off thanks to a different time zone plus the anxiety of starting a new job. Thankfully, today would likely be a short day, less than the typical twelve or more. Nailah was already plotting on a nap when she got back to her place.

“How’s it looking, Nailah?”

Joe’s familiar voice crackled through her ear piece and she pulled her phone out, quickly checking one of the many group chats she was already in before responding.

“Aaron is done in makeup. He stepped to hair about two minutes ago. Q is gonna give him a quick line up and then he’ll dress. How’s camera looking?”

She mouthed a thanks as the chef handed over the plates of food.

“Looks like they’re swinging a lens. Shouldn’t be too much longer. Let me know when he’s one hundred, yeah?”

“Will do.”

After tucking utensils and napkins in their to-go boxes, she made her way back into the stage. She walked over to his dressing room, knocking softly before popping her head inside. After dropping his breakfast off, she headed over to Q’s barber station to see how much longer he had. Before she could even fix her mouth to ask, Aaron’s eyes met hers in the mirror, a tiny smirk on those full lips of his. Nailah smiled back out of habit, clearing her throat before checking in.

“How much longer do you think?”

“I’ll be done with him in five. You need him in less?”

“No, no. No rush. Just wanted to give boss man a number. Aaron, your food is in your room.”

There he went with those eyes again.

“Thank you so much, Nailah. I appreciate it.”

That voice and those eyes together was a lethal combination. Should literally be illegal. Q shot her a look and she had to turn away before he caught her blush. The two of them had worked together for almost two years on a show back in LA. He had quickly become one of her favorite faces to see on set. Unfortunately for her, Q also knew her VERY well. That little look he gave her… he could tell she was crushing on the bright eyed actor and she just knew she’d hear an earful later. 

By the time, she’d finished her breakfast sandwich, Aaron was stepping out of his room, dressed in costume and looking impeccable. She took a sip of her coffee, letting her eyes drift over him as she listened to the radio chatter on channel one.

“Ready to invite Aaron.”

Joe’s voice in her ear came at the perfect time, preventing her from getting lost in her imagination once again. She pushed off the wall, making her way over to Aaron.

“Camera is ready for you,” she said with a little smile.

Those eyes, which oscillated from blue to hazel to green, flickered to her face and he smiled back at her. Aaron fell in step behind her as she walked him over to the backdrop. He glanced around at the people milling about, all working to make his dreams a possibility. As much as he loved being an actor, he knew none of it was possible without the crews behind the scenes. Nailah introduced him to the first assistant director and the director of photography. As the DP chattered on, he watched the way Nailah seemed to melt into the background, leaning against a camera cart, those pretty eyes of hers seeming like they were watching everything on set. Watching him watching her.

Her large expressive eyes drew him in right away and when she'd caught him staring the first time, he swore he felt a shiver go down his spine. There was just something about those eyes of hers. It felt like they saw a little too much of him. It had been a long while since he’d wanted to get close to a woman, any woman. It was hard to find something real. So many of them were having fun playing the game and seemed to want nothing more than to attach themselves to the next big deal and ride his coattails to whatever fame they could get out of it. Finding a loyal woman who was smarter than him, could go toe to toe with his family AND had an ass like a Georgia peach was like finding a needle in a Kardashian haystack. 

As much as he wanted to be professional, he couldn't deny the way she'd caught and held his attention. Maybe it was because she wasn’t begging for it. She seemed to quietly demand it, from the confident way she walked around set to the calm way she relayed information to him. As he posed for a few quick stills, he let his mind drift a bit. This wasn’t his first time filming in the states but it was his first time in Louisiana and he found himself really looking forward to exploring. They’d be filming until the end of July, so he was sure he’d have plenty of time for himself. 

Throughout the day, he changed costumes a few times and the DP experimented with a few different set ups. Time went by quickly and Aaron found himself enjoying the small stolen moments with Nailah. He’d discovered that her mother was from New Orleans and that she was based in Los Angeles. They’d chatted about their favorite movies, specifically 80s and 90s action movies. The disagreed on Kickboxer being Jean Claude Van Damme’s best movie but he knew he could eventually convince her that he was right. Despite her trying to maintain a level of professionalism, he appreciated how easy it was to talk to her. She was very sweet and was whip smart. As much as he appreciated a pretty face and a fat ass, he more than appreciated a woman of substance. Aaron shifted his attention back to her. 

Those eyes of his focused on her once again and Nailah was glad her brown skin hid the heat she suddenly felt in her cheeks. She wasn’t the type of woman who was easily flustered by handsome men, especially not working in the entertainment industry. Good looking men were a dime a dozen in LA and unfortunately, a lot of them knew it. Besides, a man like Aaron probably had a girlfriend. Or multiple girlfriends. Men like him didn’t stay single for long, not with all the access being an actor gave you. Hell, she wasn’t even sure he dated black women. It seemed to be the popular thing to get a bit of success and all of a sudden, the black women who made you weren’t good enough to marry. 

“Alright, that’s a wrap everyone.”

Joe’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and she was glad to be that much closer to going home. Today hadn’t been a crazy day, but work was always tiring. Having to be “on” all the time got old real quick. Nailah tossed her empty water bottle, watching as Aaron headed back towards his dressing room to change. After grabbing the Exhibit G for him to sign, she waited just outside his room, tapping her fingers on her thigh as she thought about what she was gonna order for dinner. Now that she was back in the Big Easy, she fully planned on eating her body weight in delicious Southern food. In no time at all, Aaron emerged from the room, his bag on his shoulder. He flashed a smile at her as he approached and she craned her neck to look up at him. Nailah wasn’t exactly a short woman at 5’8” but this man made her feel positively tiny.

“Today went pretty well…”

“It did. I’m glad I got a chance to meet you before the actual first day of filming. It’s always so hectic.”

“Same. I try to remember all the names and faces and… it’s a lot.”

He scribbled his signature and handed it back over to her.

“Joe will send you the call sheet… probably later tonight. He’s pretty good about getting it out before it gets too late.”

“Sounds great,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you next week, Nailah…”

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[normalbrothershow]

Question by an 8 year old girl: What is your favorite blooper?

Gen: "I love the one with the snake. I wasn't in that scene but it makes me laugh to watch you squirm 😂🫵" [them giggling a bit]

Jared, telling the snake story to the girl: "☝️ So there was a blooper, where a snake, where a yellow snake was coming over the couch. Uh, I was supposed to be in that scene that entire time, the whole time, but I was really nervous.🙆😬 The snake's head was the size of my hand. 😳🫳 And the guy–– Sam and Dean were sitting on a couch and we're talking to somebody, and then he has a pet snake that's coming over the couch, but what you don't see is that the guy who owned the snake was laying on the ground behind the couch trying to push the snake over. 😩🫸 And ????? were like "this snake is gonna be really angry."😳 And if the snake is angry, I don't wanna be here for that! And so I just got up and left.😁 I just couldn't stop giggling, I just got up and I left.🤷 And so, poor Jensen had to do the rest of the scene himself.🥺"

1 hour later, Jensen and Misha now, same question by the same girl

Jensen: "There are many, I'll pick one. And it is when a [chuckles] it was when a 300 pound python☝️☝️ climbed over my shoulder and went down my chest and into [looking down and searching for a word to describe crotch] the- the nether regions...😬 Which wasn't supposed to happen! The snake was just supposed to poke it's head up above the couch.🤦 But this was a real snake, Mia...!☝️😳 [Walks across stage to show how long the snake was] That's how big this thing was!"

Mia, the 8 yo girl: "I love snakes.💁"

Jensen: "😧😟 You love snakes?! Yeah you do... So, you know, this big around and it came over and I did not know this, I found this out later, that the snake handler was behind the couch trying to get it to go over the couch, and in order to that he was punching and kicking it, which would kinda make it mad right?😓 Then the head was right next to MY FACE, and I looked over,👀 and I stayed kinda in character for the moment, which was: Dean would be terrified. There was a lot of terrified Jensen happening in that moment.😔 [...] And Jared...😤 was 6 feet away on the other side of the couch, the snake wasn't on him at all!🙄 And he gets up and RUNS off set [pretending to yeet away].😭😦 And leaves ME there with that gigantic reptile... and I still love to tease him about that today.😌"

[mattslutt]

ENCORE - c.sturniolo

in which: rockstar chris giving you his full attention at a bar after his concert and inviting you to his hotel room.

includes: smut, size kink, gentle dom, flirting, teasing, soft and sensual intimacy.

The music in the bar was loud, but not louder than the laughter—Chris’s included. He was leaning behind the bar now, pouring shots with the bartender like he owned the place, sweaty curls stuck to his forehead from the concert he just destroyed on stage.

Girls giggled around him. Fans whispered. People clinked glasses and toasted to “Chris motherfucking Sturniolo,” and he soaked it up with a cocky smirk.

But the moment you walked in, he stilled.

You hadn’t noticed him yet—just made your way to the bar, squeezing between two people, scanning the drink menu.

Chris tilted his head. Eyes raking over you. Slow. Appreciative.

“Who’s that?” he muttered to the bartender, still pouring a neon blue cocktail.

“No clue. She just walked in.”

Chris slid the drink down the bar, then walked out from behind it like he had all the time in the world, adjusting the chain around his neck, licking his bottom lip, already thinking about how you’d taste.

He came up beside you at the bar, close enough that you felt his body heat before you looked up.

And oh—when you looked up?

Those blue eyes were locked on yours.

“Hey, princess,” he said, voice smooth and low, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “You look a little too good to be drinkin’ alone.”

Your throat went dry. “Are you—are you Chris Sturniolo?”

“Guilty,” he grinned, resting his forearms on the bar, leaning in like you were already his. “But tonight I’m just a guy talkin’ to the prettiest girl in the room.”

You blinked, stunned silent. The music throbbed behind you. His eyes didn’t move from yours.

He leaned closer, chin tilted, voice dropping. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

You gave it.

He repeated it, slow and sultry, like he was tasting it. “Damn. Even your name’s hot.”

You laughed shyly, tucking hair behind your ear. “You really say that to every girl?”

Chris licked his lips. “Nah. Most girls come to me. You made me walk across the room, baby. That’s special.”

He waved down the bartender. “Whatever she wants,” he said, pointing at you. “And keep ‘em coming.”

“And for you?” the bartender asked.

Chris draped an arm on the bar behind you, fingers brushing the small of your back. “Surprise me,” he murmured, eyes still on you. “Long as I’m drinkin’ with her, it’s already my favorite.”

You ended up with something sweet and sparkling, and he had a whiskey sour. You clinked glasses. He didn’t stop watching your lips as you sipped.

He leaned in again, breath brushing your ear. “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft.

“I didn’t come here for anything serious tonight. Just needed a drink, some noise. But then you walked in—” his fingers traced your wrist lightly, “—and now I can’t even remember what I wanted before you.”

You exhaled, heartbeat quickening.

“And now I kinda wanna make a mess of your lipstick.”

You giggled, feeling your cheeks burn. “That’s bold.”

He grinned. “I’m a rockstar, princess. I don’t play it safe.”

Then he flagged down the bartender again. “Biggest glass you got,” he smirked. “Two straws.”

You blinked. “What?”

He winked. “Just trust me.”

Moments later, a massive glass was set in front of you both—filled with neon-red something and two black straws curled inside.

Chris slid it toward you, lowered his head to the straw, and sipped—still staring into your eyes.

“Your turn,” he murmured, licking his lips.

You leaned in, face inches from his, both of you drinking from the same glass, holding eye contact like it was a game you refused to lose.

He reached up while you sipped and brushed a thumb over your cheek, gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth.

Then—casual, like he’d done it a million times—he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Soft. Warm.

But the fire in your stomach flared.

“Gotta say, beautiful…” he murmured. “You taste better than the drink.”

You were breathless. Flushed. Legs crossed tight.

“Chris…”

“Mmh. Say it again.”

You giggled, flustered. “Chris.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Let me take you somewhere quieter.”

“Like where?”

“My hotel room, baby,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll be the encore.”

The hotel room door clicked shut behind you.

The air was quieter here. Warmer. Dimly lit with the glow from the bedside lamp and the faint hum of the city lights beyond the window.

Chris stood in front of you, shirt already coming off along with his pants, boxers hanging low on his hips, and his silver chain glinting faintly against his chest with every breath he took. He looked like sin and sleep all at once—tattoos dark against warm skin, curls messy from your fingers earlier, lips already parted like he wanted to taste you again. Not just your cheek. But lips instead.

You stood with your top still on, beginning to remove your shorts, your panties hugging your hips. His eyes slid down your figure slowly, reverent, but not in a way that made you self-conscious, he had a sweet smile on his face.

“Come here, baby,” he whispered, voice low, soothing, taking your hand into his.

You let him guide you to the bed, where he sat back against the pillows and pulled you with him—your back against his bare chest, your body tucked perfectly between his thighs. His arms wrapped around you lazily, securely, like he’d done it a thousand times. One hand rested on your thigh, fingers splayed warm and slow against your skin, the other lazily playing with the hem of your shirt like he wanted to explore but wasn’t in a rush.

You sighed softly, leaning into him.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Still with me, princess?”

You nodded, cheeks warm. “I’m with you.”

Chris smiled against your skin. You could feel it.

“Good,” he murmured. “’Cause I don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

For a while, you just talked. Your voice low and quiet in the soft space between heartbeats. You told him stories about your life, what you did, why you’d come to his show. He listened like everything you said mattered. Nodding, smiling, occasionally muttering a soft, “Mmh,” or a husky, “No way?” like you were the most interesting thing in the world.

And the whole time?

He never stopped touching you.

Fingers tracing the curve of your thigh. Gentle circles on your skin. His nose brushing your neck as he whispered something random about the lyrics he forgot during the second song. You laughed, and he kissed the spot just under your jaw.

Then your cheek.

Then your temple.

Just because.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the softest voice?” he asked, nuzzling into your hair. “Feels like I could fall asleep to it.”

“Chris,” you giggled, glancing back at him.

He grinned. “Not tired, though,” he said, voice thick and warm. “Just drunk on you.”

His hand slipped a little higher, brushing the waistband of your panties, then retreating just as gently. No pressure. No rush.

Just touch.

Connection.

His chain dragged lightly across your back every time he shifted, cool against your warm skin.

You looked down at where his fingers were tracing up and down your thigh, slow and steady.

“You’re so…” you whispered.

“What?” he asked, lifting his head.

“Soft,” you said, cheeks hot. “I thought you’d be—rougher.”

Chris chuckled, low and husky in your ear. “I can be, baby,” he said, kissing behind your ear. “But not with you. Not tonight.”

Your breath hitched as his hand dragged across your stomach and back down, teasing but patient, fingers resting between your thighs, not pushing—just being there.

“Tonight,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder again, “I just wanna feel you melt.”

He slid your top up just enough to kiss the dip of your spine.

Then higher.

Then your shoulder blade.

Then back down again.

And all the while, he whispered sweet, gentle things you’d never forget.

“You smell so good, princess.”

“You’re killin’ me in these panties.”

“Stay right here for a while with me tonight, yeah?”

You leaned back, tilting your head to look at him. His lips were pink, kiss-bitten, eyes glassy with affection and heat. You cupped his cheek.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he smiled.

You nodded. “I’ll stay.”

Chris kissed you slow.

Gentle.

Like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe with you—he did. For you.

Chris’s lips lingered on yours like he couldn’t get enough—like every kiss was better than the last, like he was starving but in no rush to devour you. Just… tasting. Savoring. Memorizing the way your lips parted for him like it was second nature.

Your back was still pressed to his chest, but your head tilted, your body shifting instinctively toward him as the kiss deepened. His hand slid up your stomach beneath your shirt, warm and slow, and your breath hitched at the sensation.

When you twisted in his lap to face him fully, he pulled back for a second—just to look at you.

His eyes trailed over your flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, the way your thighs rested on either side of his. You could see the slight twitch of his jaw, the way his chest rose as he breathed in slowly, his silver chain glinting against his skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent. “You look so good like this, baby.”

You smiled, a little shy, and placed your hands on his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you leaned in and kissed him again. This time deeper. Hungrier.

Chris groaned into your mouth, low and guttural.

Your hips shifted, your core brushing against the outline of him beneath his boxers, and that did something to him. His fingers gripped your thighs gently, holding you in place as you kissed him slow and deep, like the world had melted away and it was only you and him—heat and lips and breath.

Your hands found their way into his curls, fingers tangling and tugging just enough to make him growl softly against your mouth.

“Mmm, that’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Just like that, princess…”

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss again, tongue brushing yours with a teasing rhythm that made your toes curl. You could feel how much he was holding back—how much he wanted to keep it gentle, even though you could feel him throbbing beneath you.

Every movement was soft, but charged. Your hands in his hair. His thumbs tracing circles on your thighs. His lips exploring yours like they were writing a song just for you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to catch your breath. Your forehead rested against his.

“Chris…” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He cupped your face so delicately it nearly broke you.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiled, eyes half-lidded and so full of something warm it made your heart ache.

“I won’t,” he promised, brushing his lips over yours again. “Not until you tell me to.”

You leaned in, kissing him again. Slower. More desperate. Your hips moved on instinct, rolling gently against him, and the gasp he let out—muffled against your mouth—sent shivers through your spine.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he whispered, lips trailing to your neck, kissing slowly beneath your ear. “So damn perfect sittin’ in my lap like this…”

His chain dragged lightly against your chest now, cold and sweet as a contrast to the heat of your skin. You could feel the tension building between your thighs, heat coiling low in your belly, and still—Chris stayed gentle. Still kissing you like you were precious. Still moving with patience, even as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to hold your waist.

You moved against him again, deliberately this time, and he broke from the kiss with a low groan, resting his forehead against your collarbone, laughing breathlessly.

“Careful, princess…” he murmured, voice rough with want. “Keep movin’ like that and I’m not gonna last much longer bein’ good.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers still in his curls.

“I don’t want you to be good,” you whispered against his ear. “Not anymore.”

Chris looked up at you, eyes dark and soft all at once.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

And then his lips were back on yours.

Hotter.

Hungrier.

But still with that same reverence—like he’d do anything to make you feel good.

You weren’t sure how you ended up beneath him, but you were wrapped in sheets now—your top discarded somewhere on the floor, Chris pressed above you, arms caged around your head like you were something sacred. His chain dangled, cool and light against your chest, and his lips were soft on your jaw, cheek, neck—everywhere he could reach.

He kissed you like you were made of silk. Touched you like you’d bruise beneath his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Your panties were the only thing left on you now, soaked through, and Chris was in just his boxers. The outline of him strained hard against the fabric, and when your thigh brushed against it, he groaned low into your skin.

“Chris…” you whispered, breath shaky.

His gaze found yours. Soft. Heated. Hungry. “Yeah, beautiful?”

You swallowed thickly. “You’re… um. You’re big.”

His brows lifted slightly in surprise—then his lips curved into a smile that was all reassurance, no cockiness.

He kissed your forehead gently. “Hey… that’s okay, baby. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I mean it.”

Your heart fluttered.

“I want to,” you said softly. “Just… I’ve never felt someone like that.”

Chris leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time, like he wanted to show you there was no pressure.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promised. “So slow. I just wanna make you feel good. Want you to take me at your pace, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks hot, thighs already trembling under his gentle touch.

“Okay,” you breathed.

He kissed you again, then down your neck, and all the way to the waistband of your panties. He slipped them off with care, like you were art. When you were finally bare beneath him, he took a second just to look at you.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

You felt his fingers first—soft and skilled, stroking between your folds, teasing you open while kissing the inside of your thighs. He took his time, coaxing slick warmth from your body, murmuring sweet things against your skin.

“So wet already, baby… your body wants me so bad, huh?”

You whimpered, nodding, hips bucking toward his hand. When one of his fingers slid into you, your eyes fluttered shut—his free hand gently holding your thigh open, thumb drawing soothing circles.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “You’re takin’ me so good, already stretchin’ for me…”

He slid another finger in, and you gasped—arching slightly. It wasn’t pain. It was pressure. Fullness. The stretch that sent shivers down your spine.

Chris kissed your cheek and forehead, whispering, “You’re okay, baby. Just like that. You’re so good for me.”

By the time he’d worked you open—wet and pulsing and needy—you were breathless, clutching his biceps and whispering his name like a prayer.

Then he pulled off his boxers.

You looked down—and your breath caught.

He was… huge.

Thick. Long. Veiny and flushed and throbbing against his stomach. It made your stomach flutter with nerves, but Chris leaned down instantly, kissing your jaw, cupping your cheek.

“Look at me, baby. You don’t have to be scared,” he whispered gently, brushing your hair from your face. “We’ll go slow. I’ll stop if you need me to. You trust me?”

You nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Yeah. I trust you.”

His smile was pure sweetness. “That’s my girl.”

He lined himself up, kissed you softly again, and started to press in—inch by slow, careful inch. His hand stayed on your thigh, soothing you, grounding you, as your walls stretched around him.

You gasped, nails digging into his arms.

“Breathe, princess,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Just breathe. You’re doin’ so good for me.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, but you forced yourself to relax. He kissed you through it, murmuring encouragement against your lips until he was fully inside—bottomed out with a soft groan that rumbled deep in his chest.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing your nose.

You nodded breathlessly. “So full…”

“I know, baby. I know,” he said gently, hips barely rocking. “You feel so fuckin’ good around me. So warm. So tight.”

He moved with the softest rhythm—slow, deep strokes that had you gasping with every roll of his hips. His chain dragged lightly across your chest as he hovered above you, kissing your cheek, your temple, your lips between thrusts.

Every time he hit that spot deep inside you, you cried out softly, and Chris only kissed you harder.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ perfect like this.”

His hand reached down between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your clit to help you relax further—and your back arched instantly. The pleasure was overwhelming now, his gentle pace perfect, his voice your anchor.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he murmured, lips on your ear. “Wanna feel you fall apart underneath me.”

You whimpered, nodding, hips bucking involuntarily.

“Say it, princess,” he begged softly. “Tell me you’re close.”

“I-I’m close,” you gasped. “Chris, I’m—oh my God—”

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips still slow and deep. “Cum for me, beautiful. Let go.”

You shattered.

Your walls clenched hard around him, body arching up into his, moaning his name like a melody. Chris didn’t stop—he kissed you through it, praising you, fucking you slowly as you trembled under him.

A few more thrusts and he followed—burying himself deep, groaning your name as he came with you, forehead pressed to yours.

You lay there, panting, limbs tangled, his body still wrapped around yours.

And when you finally opened your eyes, his were already on you.

Still soft.

Still smiling.

Still in awe.

A/N: yall is this too freaky ☹️

[stellargh0ul]

Fic request: reader x perpetua and reader has a competency kink (I am a musician and V is very good at his craft AWOOGA)

I fully agree with you there! Here's some 800 words about how much it turns you on and how into you he is in return.

Definitely NSFW.

there’s a monitor in the green room where you can see the stage, like there is at every venue. for the stagehands trying to take a break before the next set change, or the musicians who aren’t needed onstage that very moment to monitor the show and make sure they aren’t late for their entrances.

for you, however, it’s your window into the beautiful, intricate world that your Papa crafts onstage. you watch at every venue, every single night, as he entrances the crowd with his voice, his mannerisms, his singing- it all adds up to a show that you can never forget, night after night.

and night after night, it ends with your fingers buried inside yourself, your thumb pressed on your clit as you watch. imagining that his voice is singing only to you in that moment, Perpetua’s words whispered promises of what he’ll do to you once he gets offstage.

what he always does when he finds you fingering yourself to his performances in the green room.

as he takes his bows onstage with the rest of the ghouls, you shift the blanket in your lap and sit up from where you’d thrown yourself haphazardly on the couch.

no one used the green rooms, you’d learned, if you put a sign on the door that said out of order. giving you a private, front row seat to the magic.

there’s anticipation in your gut as you hear the soft knock on the door that always heralds his arrival. he’s always so hopped up on energy after a show, lost in the throes of the passion and lust that drive him forward, and yet with you, he forces himself to be gentle.

at least, until you both really get into it.

but you rise to answer the door in only your panties, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the sweet curves you’re offering, before you shut it quickly in his face again.

you hear a dark chuckle under his breath and another soft knock comes to the door.

“little one…” he murmurs against the wood and just the words alone make you shiver. “is this the game we’re playing tonight?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. you can hear the smile in his voice, the one that promises you a punishment if you don’t let him in the room to join you.

you keep the door closed.

“did I not perform well enough? were you not impressed by the show tonight?”

he has to know that’s not the case, has to know exactly what kind of state he’s put you in. what kind of state his performances always put you in.

“you were wonderful.”

“then let me in so that I may take my reward.”

his voice is low, ensuring that the whispered words that float through the door are for you and you alone. “hm…”

you feign thinking for a few moments before wrapping your hand around the doorknob. as you turn it, a gloved hand reaches between the doorframe and the door, catching the edge so that you cannot easily close it in his face again.

his mask appears around the door, a wicked smile playing across his lips as he catches a better glimpse of you in all of your undressed glory.

“what were you going to do if it wasn’t me at the door, little one?” he asks as he enters, gently closing it behind him. you hear the click of the lock above your heartbeat, thundering in your ears like a promise.

“but it was.”

he reaches out for you and playfully, you flounce back just out of his reach. his claw catches just a bit of the skin on your hip, the point sharp for but a moment before he seems to regain control of himself and it returns to being just a normal finger.

the momentary sensation makes your chest flutter: you love when he traces patterns into your skin with those claws. his true nature, reserved for you alone.

“you need to be more careful,” he tells you as he sheds his coat and begins to unbutton his shirt. your eyes follow the movements of his hands like a starving person, wetness between your legs at the memory of what those hands can do.

unbidden, the memory of his gestures onstage rises to the forefront of your mind. you collapse back onto the couch as you watch him undress, knees knocking to either side so that the wet patch on your panties is on full display.

he’s looking- you know that.

“shameless,” Perpetua scolds, but there’s hunger in his eyes, in his voice.

“yes,” you say with an innocent smile. “are you going to come take your reward?”

he advances on you without a word, the edge in his glances enough to make you shiver.

it had been a good show- it’s promising to be an even better night.

[dilanisfruity]

after hours 🪩🌃🥂

chapter 1 of 6? not 100% sure how many chapters I'll do so tbd

summary: reader is going about their usual night of work, performing half naked for a crowd of drunk men, but there's a new face in the audience tonight, and it's who they least expect. one of the most popular singers of their time, billie eilish, is sitting directly in front of the stage, eyes glued to the reader as they perform, and the connection between the two continues to grow as the night goes on.

warnings: lowkey none? all I can think of is swearing bc there's no smut in this chapter it's just building up to the next chapter where there will be smut, so kinda alludes to sex. mentions of strippers (y/n is a stripper) and all the shit that comes with that so if you don't like sex workers don't read this (also hello what's wrong with you, sex workers deserve equal respect but whatever)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this isn't fully like proofread but i checked for spelling errors and stuff so it should be okay. this is chapter 1 of my new series so yeah hopefully ygs like it!

bright stage lights shined as the dj started his next set, the music blaring from the speakers all around the club. if you weren't here all the time it would probably be beyond overwhelming but you're used to it, having worked at the club for almost 6 months now. you were side stage looking through the crowd so you could try to find the "big spenders", aka the middle aged men who had nothing better or more meaningful to spend their ridiculous amounts of wealth on. those were the guys you wanted to target- making eye contact with them while dancing, making sure they get to see all your best moves nice and clearly, and of course throwing in a wink here and there. this was your usual routine to try to get these wealthier men to buy private dances, which was what made you the most money. but this time as you scanned the room expecting to see your usual suspects, you instead found a woman your age sitting right in the front. you could almost make out her face and she seemed vaguely familiar but it didn't really matter. what mattered more was the huge stack of cash she had on her. you knew it was time to lay it on real thick with her and do what you do best so you could take a good bit of that cash home with you. walking back to the dressing room for a quick moment, you do all your final touch-ups with your makeup, throwing on a little extra glitter, then you make sure that your heels are strapped on tight and that you have as much skin showing as possible. after taking one last sip of water, you're ready to go.

as soon as you get to the stage you start with your opening routine, throwing extra looks to the mystery woman in the front row. as you perform your other routines and do a little bit of improv on the pole, you find yourself feeling weirdly drawn to the woman. at first it was all just performative in hopes of making more money but as the night went on you couldn't seem to get her out of your head. it came as no surprise that she was quite generous with her cash tips, tucking hundred dollar bills in your bra like it was nothing. your dancing continued on until you stole a glance at the clock and realized you were supposed to have gone on your break nearly 15 minutes ago. after exiting the stage you gathered all the cash tips you got, pulling them out from underneath your skimpy outfit, most of them having been placed by the mysterious woman. even as you sat in the dressing room and drank your water, your mind still wandered to her and to who she could be. you knew all the regulars, recognized all the faces of the desperate men who clearly spent all their free time at the club, and she wasn't one of them. and that's not to say you hadn't seen women in the club before, there was always at least one or two women carefully watching the dancers' every move on the tiny stage. but she was different. not only was she the most breathtaking woman you'd literally ever seen, she also was only watching you. as each dancer had taken their turn in the front and center her eyes had stayed locked on you, following you everywhere you went, and you could feel it. and the strangest thing of all was the fact that you swore you had seen her face somewhere before, recognized her from something, but you couldn't put your finger on what.

grabbing your phone out of your bag you tried to bring your focus to something besides this mystery woman, starting to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed. you opened one of your friends' close stories to see they had reposted something about the one year anniversary of some album being released. as you watched the video, you nearly started to zone out until you saw it. saw her. confusion spread over your face as you tried to get a closer look, but just as you nearly focused your eyes on her, the story was finished and it went to the next one. frozen for a second, you thought maybe you were imagining things or maybe you were just confused, and you should just move on and keep scrolling through stories. but you couldn't help yourself, you had to go back, had to go click on the post and look closer. after just a few seconds of the video playing you knew you were right. it was unmistakably the woman who had been wordlessly captivating your every thought. the woman who, moments ago, was slipping hundred dollar bills into your bra like they were nothing. looking up to see the user who had made the post, the realization finally hitting you. it was billie eilish.

not knowing what to do with this information you sat and stared at your phone, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and shock. you could've easily sat there for hours, completely unaware of the rest of the world, only focused on the fact that billie eilish herself had been sitting right in front of the stage as you performed your routines, her eyes fixated on you and you alone. but your moment of awe was quickly cut short by the sound of the dressing room door flying open, the loud mixture of music and cheering becoming clear for just a second as your friend walked into the room, letting the door slam behind her. 

you snapped out of your thoughts as she called out your name, nearly shouting at you. "y/n? you were supposed to be back on 5 minutes ago, i stayed onstage an extra few minutes to give you some extra time but i need to get home so you've gotta get back out there. like now!" shit. you hadn't been watching the clock to know when your break was over. "oh fuck i'm sorry girl, i lost track of time." you said, nearly letting your mind wander back to what had kept you from looking at the time, but you couldn't do this now. you needed to get back out there. hurriedly putting on some lip gloss and adjusting your outfit and heels, you speedily walked out of the dressing room and back out to the main room.

once you were onstage and you heard the music playing you were able to focus on what you needed to do, getting back to executing your routines with practiced precision. a few songs passed as you did your usual rounds of choreography both on the pole and just on the stage. after the first few dances, you started to look in the audience, hoping to find some men you could solo out and focus on, you needed at least one lap dance by the end of the night if you wanted to walk out of there with enough money to put food on the table. but instead you found her. your eyes immediately fell on the dark haired mystery woman, whose identity wasn't actually a mystery anymore. but there were still so many unanswered questions, leaving that mysterious feeling lingering. you smiled at her, batting your eyes before going into your floorwork, moving slowly and sensually, grinding on the floor and casually showing off your flexibility. as soon as you were facing the front again, your eyes immediately fell back on her, finding a subtle smirk on her face as she leaned back in her chair. you kept your eyes trained on hers for the rest of your performance, leaning closer to her in between dances to allow her to slip more cash into your lacy bra. it felt euphoric and beautiful to be performing with her in mind, knowing her eyes were on you the whole time. but soon enough your shift was over, and you finished up your last routine, taking a moment to look at the audience one last time, allowing your eyes to linger on her just a bit longer, before leaving the stage and heading back to the dressing room. 

as you came down from your high and the rush of adrenaline that you got from performing faded, you sat down, finally allowing your body to rest. after taking a moment to just breathe and recover from your long night of dancing, you started getting unready, taking all the tips out from where they were tucked in your bra and tiny shorts and tossing them into your bag. the best part of your night was taking off your heels and changing out of your skin-tight lacy outfit and into some comfy shorts and an oversized tee. the relief you felt slipping on your comfy socks and worn-in doc martens was unmatched. you moved quickly as you packed up your stuff, more than ready to get home and get some food in your stomach, but just as you were about to head out the back door your boss came into the dressing room looking for you. 

"y/n? are you still here?" you heard the familiar, gravelly voice of your boss calling out. you contemplated just slipping out the back door before he noticed you but you knew you shouldn't so you sucked it up and walked over to him. "hey matt what's up?" you asked, praying it wasn't about anything you were getting in trouble for. "ahh y/n! there you are pretty girl. someone is asking for you out in the main room, said they wanted to just speak to you but they would pay whatever your rate was for a private dance for your time. seems a bit odd to me but sounds like a good way to make your tips for the night. they're waiting outside the dressing room for you but if you need to leave i'll just go tell them you already left for the night." he told you, your intrigue nearly outweighing your confusion. why would someone pay to just talk to you? that certainly wasn't anything like the services you usually provided but money is money so you grabbed your stuff and set it by the back door before heading over to the stage door. 

as you walked out of the stage door and into the main area you certainly weren't expecting to see billie. confusion flooded your thoughts, and you thought she must just be coincidentally by the door and the man who wanted to talk to you was somewhere behind her. but as soon as you walked out the door she stood up from where she was leaning against the wall and walked right to you. "hi angel. having a good night?" she asked. "hi yeah um my night's been good. how has yours been?" you stumbled through your words, not usually the type to get nervous and stutter like that but something about her presence just left you feeling flustered. she took a step closer bringing her hand up to brush your shoulder, letting it drift down your arm. "my night has been amazing, thanks for asking sweetheart. but anyways, i'm sure you've figured out by now why i've asked to meet with you, haven't you angel?" you timidly shook your head, feeling like there was some obvious answer that you should know but you didn't. she smiled, letting out a soft laugh, "oh baby your innocence is cute. i'm surprised you could do something like this for a job and still not realize that i'm here because i want you." your eyes grew wide as the implications of her statement dawned on you, opening your mouth to try to respond, but you couldn't seem to find the words, simply exhaling and letting your lips close in silence. your failed attempt to speak hadn't gone unnoticed by the woman, and you could see it in her face. "oh honey, it's okay. i can tell you're not used to this so it's not surprising you don't know how to respond." her eyes continued to stare into yours as she brought her hand back up and under your chin, gently lifting your face to look up at her as she leaned into your ear, her warm breath giving you chills as she continued. "the things i want to do to your precious little body, god, you don't even know what you do to me angel. i need to have you all to myself, don't want anyone else's hands on you, do you understand?" you tried to keep a calm look on your face as you nodded a little bit too eagerly. "words baby." she said softly but sternly, slowly bringing her face back to meet your eyes. you put all your energy and thought into letting out a calm, confident response, "yes i understand" you breathed out, mostly clear but it still came out shakier than you had hoped. a smile spread across billie's face as she moved her hand from under your chin to hold your face tenderly, "good girl. i'll be back tomorrow and we can talk more, yeah?" she asked, already knowing your answer as you quickly nodded your head. she took another moment to admire you and the look in your eyes before pulling away, letting her hand linger for just a moment on your cheek. "alright baby i'll see you tomorrow then." she spoke one last time, allowing her hand to drop back to her side, pulling a few hundred dollar bills out of her pocket and placing them in the pocket of your shorts before slowly turning on her heels and walking away. 

you stood there in silence, your mind consumed by a strange mixture of confusion and excitement and awe and a bit of desperation. had that really just happened? billie eilish was a worldwide sensation, one of the most famous singers of your time, and she wanted you? none of it made sense but it really didn't have to, because you were quickly whisked away to thoughts of how you needed to prepare for tomorrow. you slowly felt yourself return to the present moment and to your body, taking a deep breath and turning to go back to the dressing room. hurriedly grabbing your bag and heading out to your car, taking just a small moment to really take in everything that had happened before starting your drive home. going home was always one of the best parts of your day because it meant you got to rest, but right now you were excited to go home so you could have more than just a moment alone to think about your interaction with billie. after arriving at your apartment, she clouded your thoughts as you ate a late dinner and got ready for bed, anxiously anticipating the countless possibilities of what could happen when you saw her again the next day. you had only shared a short moment of time with billie and already you were hooked. this not-so mysterious girl was certainly going to be your undoing, and you were more than okay with that.

[snowball-doie]

✮⋆˙ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ˙⋆✮

| pairing: johnny x manager!oc

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. protected vaginal sex. cowgirl position. glasses kink(?).

| aurora's note: a fair amount of the plot is just them playing mafia lowkey........... it's my fav livestream of theirs, sorry <3 also, i did timeline shenanigans: 7dream live together in the dorms atp.

Working in entertainment could actually be fun sometimes because they didn’t have to take work too seriously. Being idols meant that the boys needed to interact with the fans as much as possible to maintain the fandom and their own images, so when it occurred to one of the execs randomly one day that the 127 team hadn’t live streamed together in a while, they instructed Aurora to put something together by the end of the week. AKA, as their manager, Aurora had to set them up and all they had to do was make an appearance. She was the one who had to find a day in their messy schedules where they were all free, and she was the one who had to wrangle them to make sure they would actually go, and she was the one who had to sit there the entire time to watch to ensure that they were behaving themselves. Dumb shit like that.

Somehow they were all only available in the beginning of June, late at night when the stream numbers would be kind of iffy… So Aurora decided that in order to make the most of it, they were going to play silly games in their pajamas at Johnny's place, because if she wanted to go to sleep at some point, she was going to do it there and not at the office. Johnny was more than fine with hosting.

The morning of the planned live stream, Aurora headed over to Johnny's apartment early to help him clean and get everything ready. The camera wouldn’t see much because they were filming against a plain wall in his dance room, but they agreed that it would be a good idea to make the apartment presentable for the boys too since they were spending the night.

Aurora didn’t even make it out of the elevator before Johnny already opened his front door and peeked his head into the hallway to greet her. He really didn’t need to do that. She already had her own code to let herself in, and he knew that she was going to arrive whenever she wanted, so stalking her Life360 to open the door for her was plain silly— Albeit quite gentlemanly, though. However, Aurora paused when she got close enough to see Johnny. She was completely taken aback by his appearance to the point she didn’t know what to do or say, which made Johnny incredibly nervous, his smile fading quickly.

“What is it?”

“Since when have you started wearing glasses again?”

Back when Aurora began working at SM, Johnny needed some time off to get lasik surgery because he was self conscious about his poor eyesight— According to Yuta, at least, who hid his own poor eyesight to the best of his ability when he wasn’t opting for contacts or matching glasses to his stylish outfits. Johnny disliked wearing glasses in public. He thought that they made his face look small, which made his head look small, which made him feel disproportionate. Since he was getting older and he was a debuted idol, he saved up enough money and convinced the company to let him get the surgery, so it was Aurora’s job back in the day to work Johnny out of schedules accordingly until he was able to come back completely.

Since then, Aurora never saw him wear glasses. Not on stage, not at the office, and not even at home. How had they been dating for six months and she never knew that about him? Did he feel embarrassed about it around her? Of all people to be self-conscious around, Aurora?

“I only wear them when I’m really tired and my eyes are strained,” he replied. “It’s been a couple of months since I’ve had to put them on.”

“Do you need to see the doctor?”

Aurora asked it with a tone of worry that could only come from a concerned girlfriend, but the question itself derived from her position as his boss who wondered if she needed to make accommodations for him. Was it safe to perform like that? Maybe it was the stage lights impacting him negatively? Taeyong and Jaehyun were beginning to complain about that too.

Johnny chuckled. “I’m fine. It’s normal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You want me to dig up my eye doctor prescription that says I need glasses following extreme exhaustion and stress?”

Aurora rolled her eyes. His point was made. Fine.

She pushed past him to enter her apartment like she lived there, and as Johnny closed the door, she turned to throw him a casual comment that made both of them smile, “You do look cute, though, I’ll admit it.”

The look on his face changed from an innocent boyfriend welcoming his girlfriend in, to that of a boyfriend looking to ruin his girlfriend until she was screaming his name and digging her nails into his back. To which, Aurora met his energy. His eyes darkened with lust, and she grinned up at him the closer he stalked towards her. Johnny wrapped his arms around her waist, firmly pulled her against his chest, and he leaned over to kiss her neck as she played with his long dark hair— A shame since Aurora loved his blonde hair so much, but what could they do once the execs told him what he needed to look like for the next era…

“You really think so?”

She giggled and tried to escape him, running forward a few steps into the living room before turning to face him with a smug grin on her face. “Yeah. You look adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes, you heard me.”

“I’ve never been called adorable before.”

Again, he slowly strutted towards her, almost as if he went too fast, she would be scared off— Like a lion before it would pounce on its prey. She welcomed him. She didn’t turn or run away some more, she only waited for him, slowly opening her arms before swinging them around the back of his neck once he was close enough for her to stand up on her tip-toes and lean her weight against his body. They teased each other for a silent minute— Both of them waiting to see if the other would crack first by giving into the temptation of a passionate kiss, but they were both stubborn so neither of them wanted to lose. Problem was, Johnny was a man. It was far easier to trick him than Aurora; So the second she breathed gently against his lips and pressed into him some more to feel his erection against her, Johnny let out a quiet moan at the same time he smashed his lips against hers. Too, too easy.

Johnny knew Aurora, too, however. Distracting her with kisses and wandering hands, she barely realized that they were walking until it was a second too late.

“Baby, we shouldn’t,” mumbling against his lips, she tried to protest what he was obviously guiding her towards. “We have things to do.”

“I already cleaned.”

Aurora pulled away to show off her confusion.

“That’s why I’m so tired, baby… I couldn’t sleep, so I just cleaned through the night… So there’s nothing to do except set up at the last second. Which meanssssss, we have the whole morning and part of the afternoon to ourselves.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

It really didn’t take a lot of convincing, if Aurora had to be honest. It was the glasses, the fact that he was hard, she was wet, and the bed was right behind her. The usual course of events would proceed as follows: Johnny pinning her to the bed, both of them stripping out of their clothes, Johnny grabbing a condom, then bada-bing bada-boom. But he was tired, lazy, sluggish. He wouldn’t admit that it would impact his performance in bed, and Aurora really wouldn’t have noticed too much, but to give him some reprieve, Aurora spun them so that Johnny fell back onto the bed first with her on top of him.

“Don’t take the glasses off,” she mumbled against his lips.

He nodded obediently before reaching down to undo his belt buckle at the same time she pulled her shirt off. Johnny took to what was right in front of his face— Her boobs— the second she removed her bra too. Feeling his lips wrapped around her nipple made her moan his name and grind against his erection, earning her a moan from Johnny that vibrated against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Their positioning made it difficult for Aurora to move, but she was on a mission to lean over to Johnny's bedside table where she fished out a condom from the top drawer. Johnny heard the crinkling of the wrapper. With her nipple still in his mouth, he looked at the condom then her before grinning slightly, adjusting his hips to make room for the next step.

Much to his dismay, Aurora had to part from him in order to sit up and take off her leggings and panties in one foul swoop. The way that he looked up at her through his lashes and glasses, however, only reaffirmed what Aurora knew about him. Adorable. Sexy, duh, but he was cute while patiently waiting for her to take his erection in her hand, give it a few good slow pumps, then carefully line his tip up with her slick entrance. It was a look of love that washed over his entire face. They didn’t need to say a single word to each other yet Aurora knew what he was thinking: That she was the most amazing person he’d ever met. As she sank down on him slowly, she gave him the same look. Her pleading eyes that looked down at him as she struggled to bear the stretch silently told him, “I love you so much I don’t know how to live without you.” It seemed pathetic. Giving each other desperate, horny looks while still having a dialogue-less conversation.

Aurora didn’t delay. The second she was situated properly, she began rolling her hips, dragging her clit along his pubic bone as a means to get herself off too. Johnny's posture fell with a gentle thud. He kept his eyes on hers as he held her hips to help guide her when she started slowly bouncing up and down as far as her bad knees would take her, so she relied on him for balance and strength— To which Johnny grinned smugly. He liked seeing her use him. When he was on top, it wasn’t like he was just using her, so of course that wasn’t how it was with her on top either, but… He wasn’t against the thought of her using him as a way to get herself off with how gorgeous she looked.

At one point, despite Aurora’s one request, Johnny moved to take off his glasses. She tried to stop him, but he reassured her by dodging her attempt and telling her that he wanted to try something. So she stilled as she waited. Much to Aurora’s surprise, after removing his glasses from his face, Johnny turned them around and lifted them up to be even with her face before sliding the glasses gently onto her, cautious to not poke her eyes or ears with the temples. Aurora blinked to let her eyes adjust. Everything was extremely blurry for her, but beyond that she could see Johnny smiling up at her with his lust-filled eyes.

“Jesus, you really are blind. The hell was that surgery for?”

He pinched her side playfully. “Brat.”

“I’m just stating the truth. Maybe you really do need to see the doctor aga—”

But before Aurora could finish teasing him, Johnny returned to rolling Aurora’s hips around while he bucked up into her. She faltered forward, his glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he complimented with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Even from beneath her, Johnny did most of the work because the wind had been knocked out of her by the brutal and sudden push of his cock that stretched her more than before, like that was somehow possible. Aurora couldn’t see much wearing his glasses. Everything was a blur, but she tried to not let that deter her from catching her breath so that she could reclaim the upper hand and instead fuck him— Afterall, what was the point of being on top if he was just going to fuck her? So she braced herself again with her palms on his chest, then after taking in a deep breath, she rolled her hips against Johnny's guidance, making him moan when she tightened instinctively around him.

“You’re so fucking… so fucking pretty, Rora. Taking my cock so well. Look at you…”

The dirty talking made Aurora’s head fuzzy. She liked it— It was dirty, something Johnny never let slip around anyone else, even with his sense of humor that could go sexual or dark if he wanted to but he never did. For her, though, he said what was on his mind. That he enjoyed the sight of seeing her tits bounce every time she dropped down onto his pelvis, or how her hole swallowed him whole now that she had plenty of practice, or how her face scrunched with pleasure every time she moaned for him. Then there was how Aurora felt about Johnny. Seeing him bite his lip to hold back his moans until Aurora dragged it out from between his teeth because she wanted to hear every little sound he had to make because of her. Every single pathetic moan, or deep grunt, or quiet plea for her to go faster because he was getting close to cumming.

Aurora rolled her head back as she chuckled through a pleasure-filled sigh, “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

Johnny nodded quickly, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, nearly covering his eyesight, but he refused to let go of Aurora’s hips so she took pity on him by brushing his hair back. Somehow that did it for him. With his nails digging into her skin, Johnny's orgasm washed through him… and Aurora appreciated the image of it over the rim of his glasses. Seeing his abs contract a split second before he slightly curled up with his face scrunching as he moaned her name… She was a goner too. Her walls tightened around him, milking every drop out of him. Johnny lifted her slightly. He used her wetness and her pulsing walls to help him through the end of his orgasm before he dropped her back down and he slumped, exhausted.

“You’re just so…” Aurora panted to catch her breath. “So blind…”

Chuckling, Johnny threw an arm over his eyes so he could focus on breathing too. “I’m gonna buy you a pair of fake glasses to wear for me.”

“In your dreams.”

After they’d finished and cooled down by cuddling and teasing each other about the glasses some more, Johnny was the first to slide out of bed to put on his pajamas for the live stream. Aurora took another moment to herself. It wasn’t a bad view from the bed, watching Johnny, naked, drag his feet into the adjourning bathroom so he could wash off the scent of sex before changing; To which Aurora wished he hadn’t showered so early because she could’ve gone another few rounds if he’d allowed her to… But they’d already wasted their entire free time away. They tried just about every position there was, and then some. Aurora was more surprised by Johnny's stamina than her own— And even then, she was still shocked because she usually couldn’t go that long. Sometimes she really couldn’t understand porn for that reason. Of course, she liked porn as much as any person who never had a boyfriend until their mid-twenties, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around how some of those girls could have orgasm after orgasm while Aurora was just capable of having one.

Until Johnny.

There was something about his long fingers with thick knuckles, or his delicate yet coarse tongue, or his big dick that really changed Aurora’s perspective on orgasming. She always wanted more of him. One orgasm wasn’t enough, and Johnny could never get sick of it either. He loved, loved, loved watching her cum because of him. Part of her figured that if they weren’t expecting guests in the evening— Knowing Yuta and Doyoung, they were likely to appear early anyhow— then Johnny would’ve kept going too, but alas, he got dressed with Aurora watching him, then he gave her a quick kiss before leaving to get some more stuff ready for the stream.

Because they were going to be busy later on, Johnny took to making dinner so that Aurora would have energy to actually manage all eight chaotic boys the entire night without wanting to jump out his apartment window. In the meantime, Aurora left to get snacks from the convenience store across the street from his gated community. She got as much as she could carry in the reusable bags Johnny had stocked up under his kitchen sink— Like chips, cookies, ramyeon, tteokbokki, water, and lots of flavored drink bags to be poured over ice cups. She knew that they would be up and around for a couple of hours, and after working so hard during the week, they deserved a break, but instead they had to perform for the camera once more, so the least she could do was reward them with all the things they typically didn’t get to consume due to their various diets.

The plan for the rest of the evening, after the required live stream, was to hang out together casually, continue to eat unhealthy snacks, maybe drink if they wanted, then have a big sleepover. Yuta had already called sharing the big bed with Aurora back when she announced the schedule. Johnny tried a handful of times to fight him on it, but she told him that she was fine with sleeping with Yuta on the couch then— She was teasing, of course, but Johnny reluctantly surrendered the bed to them since he knew that he wasn’t going to win either way. It didn’t matter if she was joking around, Yuta wasn’t. Yuta was the more affectionate one, and if he wanted to cuddle with Aurora, he was going to cuddle with Aurora. That was more certain than anything else. Johnny knew that— Everyone knew that. So Johnny capitulated.

Once she got back from shopping, dinner was ready, so Johnny scooped up a few spoonfuls of brown rice mixed with chicken breast for both of them to eat on the couch while watching some anime they’d been meaning to catch up on together. Johnny was going through a sports anime phase. He’d watched plenty of them before, but the second he learned how much Aurora loved Haikyuu!! he couldn’t resist giving the entire series a watch with her just so he could see all of her cute reactions and listen to her sing the intros or ramble about how much she loved Sugawara and Kozume. Of course Johnny made a comment about her obvious taste— Dyed blondes. She tried to defend herself that it wasn’t like that! She liked Kozume because he was adorably dorky (“Oh, adorable, huh?” he teased her.) and he was kind, shy, accidentally funny, and passionate about his interests. “And he’s blonde,” Johnny added. Aurora rolled her eyes and ignored him since there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise when he was just pulling her leg to see her get wound up.

Aurora cleaned their dishes since Johnny cleaned the apartment and made dinner. She’d also seen Haikyuu!! a million times, and she didn’t need the subtitles like Johnny did, so he remained glued to the couch with the episode still running as Aurora gave everything a good wash then stuck it in the dishwasher just so it would be out of the way by the time the boys would descend upon them in the next hour or so.

After the kitchen was made spotless, Aurora flopped back down onto the couch to get comfortable— But Johnny suddenly decided that her plush thighs were the perfect pillow for his head. She waited for him to get situated first. He shifted around a bit until he was certain he was in a position he could relax in, then Aurora gently put her hands on him, one on his shoulder and one in his long hair. Usually he was the big spoon, but sometimes he liked being the little spoon. It was cute— Adorable, even. 

Thankfully his hair was still long. He had to dye it dark recently for filming concert promos and the upcoming comeback content, but he was allowed to keep it long— And not just because his girlfriend was his manager! She really had no say in what the boys looked like for every comeback. She just got the order, told their stylists, then made sure the boys actually sat down to get their hair cut and/or dyed. The boys sometimes got a say… But they had to be really sneaky about it, cutting their own hair outside of company time because there was nothing the execs could do about that, whereas dye could be changed whenever since the execs couldn’t have cared less about the health of the boys and their hair.

“Are you ever going to cut your hair really short?” she asked him, picking up another few strands to start a new braid around his face.

“And miss out on stuff like this?”

They both chuckled lightly.

Johnny shook his head slightly. “I think as long as you like it, and as long as I can keep it healthy, I don’t want to cut it short again— At least not above my earlobes.”

“You don’t have to do things just for me, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

Aurora blushed.

By the end of the episode and the top of the hour, the doorbell started ringing. Yuta, of course. He was the first to appear, with Taeyong so close behind him that Johnny didn’t even get a chance to close the door between them. Aurora greeted them briefly before going into work-mode, or as they liked to call it, “mom-mode.” She went to the spare room that Johnny used for dancing and gaming where the camera was already set up on a tripod facing a blank white wall the boys would be positioned in front of.

Earlier, while making sure everything was actually set up the way she wanted after returning with the snacks from the convenience store, Aurora set up a foldable table against the far wall behind the camera so that all the snacks and drinks would be close by if the boys needed rather than opening and closing the door to go to the kitchen. It was a good thing she thought ahead because as the boys appeared and made their way to the practice room for the stream, they saw the snacks and started talking about who would have what.

Mark made everyone pause when he entered. Aurora’d been quite clear about the theme of the livestream, so obviously everyone was confused when he walked in wearing a blue button down with black slacks instead of pajamas. His eyes shot darts in Haechan's direction— But when Hyuck wouldn’t make eye contact, Mark attacked. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Haechan had set his hyung up, probably lying to him that the theme had changed at the last second, tricking Mark into dressing up nicely.

The boys were already chatting on the floor when Aurora gave them a heads up a few minutes later that she was turning on the camera and starting the livestream. They acknowledged her with a few vague nods before continuing their separate conversations. To allow fans to slowly flood into the stream, Aurora let the boys ignore the camera for a few minutes— And she simultaneously used that time to check that everything was in order and that the execs were notified of the live stream so that they could finally get off her ass about it.

Johnny knew best when it came to fan interaction stuff, so he navigated everyone’s focus onto him so that they fell silent and gave him the chance to address the fans and introduce what they were doing for the night. Aurora was relieved. They really didn’t have to create any scripts or go over ideas prior to the event. Johnny was really good at improv on his own.

“The reason we’re all gathered today is to play some games for you guys. Back during lockdown, we all got really good at Among Us, so we decided to show off our skills by playing mafia. I’ll be your MC for tonight, Johnny Suh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed for the camera to stay in character while the boys all laughed at the extent he’d go to just for a bit. “Ne. You might notice the members are in their pajamas too—”

“Except for Mark-hyung,” Haechan commented.

Everyone laughed again while Mark got onto his knees to playfully hit Haechan's arm with closed fists. Haechan yielded with pathetic pleas for Mark to leave him alone.

“Ne, ne, we’re all in our pajamas, except for Mark, because tonight is sleepover night!” Johnny prompted the applause and the boys followed. “It’s the first time all eight members have slept together in the same place since we lived in the dorms.”

“The good, old days,” Jungwoo commented.

“You miss it?”

“No.”

Everyone laughed some more.

“Okay! So, let’s begin. Taeyong, will you do the honor of telling us the rules of NCT 127 mafia?”

Taeyong looked at Johnny silently, hiding his face to Aurora and the camera beneath his hat, but Aurora could tell something was wrong. Johnny took the hint. Instead, he had Jaehyun explain.

The rules were simple, run of the mill mafia rules that pretty much everyone grew up with, but part of being fair and interactive with the fans was explaining it to them so that they could follow clearly without getting upset that maybe someone had broken the rules, or arguing amongst each other in the comments about what the rules actually were. There were seven cards placed in the middle of the half circle of boys, and two of the cards said “M” on it to indicate they were the mafia whose goal it was to kill off all the other players without getting caught by player “D” who was the detective, or without having their plans undone by player “N” who was the nurse that could choose to save players from being killed by the mafia. Everyone else had “C” for citizen. They had no role to play aside from helping the detective figure out who the mafia members were. At the beginning of every round, the boys would randomly select a card. The mafia would get to know who their partner in crime was, and they would work together throughout the game.

“How do we pick who goes first?” Yuta questioned.

Johnny shuffled the cards in his hand while answering, “I am ground.”

There were a few chuckles. Obviously the game wasn’t so fair to the foreigners in the room, but it would be fun for the fans to watch, so they went along with Johnny's plan. As he moved to set out the cards, they discussed who would kick off their game of “I Am Ground”-- But in the process of trying to set out the cards in a discreet order, Johnny was on his knees, ass up in the air, back arched downwards. What the fuck was he doing… Doyoung seemed to be wondering the same thing, because he suddenly looked over at Aurora who was watching from behind the camera, and he checked for permission before they both giggled, and suddenly he slapped Johnny's ass. Of course Haechan went for it too. Johnny, to no one’s surprise, wasn’t fazed and continued to put the cards out until he sat back down.

“Okay, just start with Taeyong to make it easier on everyone,” Johnny instructed.

So they did. The game started with Taeyong who passed it to Jaehyun who then tried to be sneaky by looking at Doyoung while calling out Yuta's name. Yuta, who was unprepared, got flustered and instead of saying his name only twice as per Jaehyun's decree, Yuta said his name four times, disqualifying himself from the game. Poor thing… It really wasn’t fair to him when he was self-admittedly the worst at Korean. And that pissed him off, too, so he pouted and threw a playful tantrum, saying that he was already done and heading to bed. The boys laughed and pulled him back onto the ground so that he couldn’t escape.

Yuta, Johnny, and Aurora watched the next few rounds unfold. Taeyong was out second, then Jungwoo, Mark, and Jaehyun fairly consecutively. When it came down to the masters of the game, Doyoung and Haechan, they moved towards the center in order to face each other for the final match up. Hyuck seemed confident, but that was usually his hubris. Doyoung took his time, collecting himself, drinking some water, then staring down Haechan as they began. They went back and forth for a while. It was impressive. Usually people tripped over their own tongues by the third or fourth round, however the two of them kept going and going with their speed gradually increasing until finally—

“Haechan, seven!”

Haechan hesitated a beat too long, losing him the game. Immediately, Doyoung got up to cheer in front of the camera, gloating about how he had dethroned the king of “I am ground” after so long!

Johnny felt bad for Yuta and Taeyong, so to switch it up and be entertaining, Johnny had the losers go first instead of the winners when picking their cards. That perked Yuta up. He sat on his knees and reached into the middle, fingers hovering over the row of seven cards before landing on the far left one. Slowly, one by one, they each took their cards. Then, one more time, Johnny covered what each of the cards meant before having them returned to the middle so that they could start the game without having any issues where someone would secretly try to take a peek at another player’s card.

The game began.

Taeyong immediately looked so tired from all the practices that he had been taking on recently. The second he was killed off in the first game of the night, Aurora noticed that he started acting dead the entire time so that he had an excuse to rest his eyes and not do anything— Not that it would have mattered because he wouldn’t have been allowed to participate anyhow. But she was positive that he even fell asleep at one point… She knew that he was exhausted, and she pitied him, truly, but they were live, and while the fans were probably eating up the chance to screenshot their “Bubu” asleep on Johnny's shoulder, Aurora had to step in at some point so that the execs wouldn’t get mad at her for letting an idol fall asleep on live. So she nodded towards the boys to signal that they should try to cheer him up. Jaehyun and Mark were the first to notice, so they started cracking jokes at each other’s expense, which got Taeyong to perk up just enough that he wasn’t keeping his eyes closed anymore. Aurora smiled at him as a token of her appreciation.

To cure their boredom while talking through rounds, some of the boys reverted to their favorite pastime game which Aurora despised… Bottle flipping. She’d told them a million times at practices and in green rooms to knock it off because it was distracting and obnoxious; but being on live stream meant they couldn’t get yelled at. They weren’t doing it on purpose to spite her or anything. They really were just bored while listening to Jungwoo try to defend himself poorly. When the plastic bottles kept crashing onto their sides, however, Aurora gestured to Johnny who made a rule that they couldn’t distract fans from the game by flipping bottles. Good save.

As the next round started, Taeyong still wasn’t cheering up, despite his friends’ many efforts, so Aurora pointed at him and brought him hither with her hand. He sulked his way over to her with his head lowered. He knew he was in trouble. He was acting like a child caught breaking the teacher’s rules in the classroom and was preparing to be scolded. However, once he was hidden behind the camera with Aurora, she handed him a bag of cookies and helped fix up his hat so that it was resting more comfortably on his head.

She flicked his chin up playfully. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just exhausted… And it’s no fun being the first one dead and you’re the cop… I don’t get to play. Ever.”

“I get it.” She smiled at him. “But you need to try to cheer up just slightly, and then after the live, you can get some rest. Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Hang in there for me, ‘kay?”

He nodded again before spinning on his heels and returning to his seat on the floor with his snacks and water.

While the game continued, the boys were taking too long to argue between rounds about who the mafia could be, as well as who they wanted to vote to be killed off— So Taeyong, in his bad mood, asked Johnny if they could start setting a timer to make the game faster. Johnny agreed. He pulled a timer up on his phone then passed it to Johnny to be in charge of it. Four minutes per round. Any discussions outside of that time would be annulled.

The timers made the game go faster. It made it more exhilarating to watch, as well, since the boys felt rushed to plead their cases and present evidence while under the watchful eye of their leader and his strict new rule. When Mark, the doctor for the first game, was asked who he wanted to save in the end-game, he pointed to Doyoung when it was Yuta who the mafia elected to kill. After discovering through Johnny's narration that Mark failed his job, he began whining… Then the whining turned into a very loud, unique moan that sent the room into silence. Aurora just about got out of her seat to slap him upside the back of his head. Was he stupid? Why was he moaning on a live stream? Oh, the execs were going to have a field day scolding Aurora…

The mafia ended up winning the game. Haechan and Jungwoo dapped each other up, laughing over their victory, joking about how they “killed the right people off” after finding out that it was Taeyong who was the cop.

An intermission was later agreed upon so that some of the boys could escape to run down the hallway where the bathroom was, while Hyuck went to the fridge to raid Aurora and Johnny's personal stash of Capri Suns, even though there were tons of other snacks available in the streaming room… and Johnny urged Mark, Taeyong, and Jungwoo to talk to fans while they waited. Yuta stood and went behind the camera to where Aurora was sitting. He stole a bag of matcha bread then scared her by hugging her from behind, his chin propped on her head.

He whispered to her in Japanese, “Want any?”

“Hai.”

Yuta opened the packet then split the bread into two large pieces. As she accepted her half from him, Aurora looked back at the other boys, specifically Johnny who was trying to focus on interacting with the fans, but his eyes kept darting over to the sight of Yuta and Aurora cozying up together.

Aurora knew that he wasn’t jealous, he was just observing. Most people probably would have assumed his staring meant something other than what it was, but it was never like that with them, especially when it came to her relationship with Yuta. They had been so touchy with each other for the years they’d been friends, which spanned before she was with Johnny, so he had no reason to ever be jealous of them. Hell, Johnny even asked her that one time if she was attracted to Yuta and she laughed so hard she nearly punctured a lung. She knew that Johnny knew that he was safe.

When he came back from the bathroom, Taeyong sat on the floor at Aurora’s feet so that he could lay back against her, his head on her lap while he started quickly falling asleep. Just as quickly, Aurora gave into his adorableness. She played with his hair, scratching gently at his scalp with her fingertips, and she fed him some of the cookies she had opened in order to get his sugar levels up so that he could regain some energy before he had to get back on camera. In the meantime, Johnny tried to keep the fans’ attention by reading their comments and replying with jokes.

The others slowly returned to their posts too. They joined Johnny in talking to fans, joking around about silly boy things, even dropping indirect hints for upcoming projects that would go under the fans’ radars unless they knew the truth. Still, Aurora was panicking slightly. She worried that they would say one wrong thing and she’d suddenly be called into the office at midnight to be scolded by a boardroom full of executives.

Yuta was thoughtful enough to put a handful of snacks on the floor for everyone to pick at if they wanted. Luckily, Aurora planned ahead for that, so she had already taped over all of the logos to avoid any issues— As if it wasn’t obvious what chips they were snacking on based on the color of the bag…

“Okay,” Aurora cooed, patting Taeyong's shoulders to wake him up.

As he inch-wormed his way back into camera view, Aurora gave Johnny a nod, so he settled against the wall, away from the camera, before ordering the boys to calm down too so that they could play one more game. The routine was the same as the first game. Aurora stopped paying attention, truth be told. She started scrolling through social media on her phone to see what the fans were saying about the live stream, and to her relief much of it was positive. Fans were clipping their favorite moments and insta-uploading them. It was actually so fast that Aurora didn’t understand how it was humanly possible to do such a thing, so she was impressed enough to follow a few dedicated fan accounts for members like Johnny, Yuta, and Taeyong. It wasn’t that she was biased… She just… Well, she respected the grind…. Okay, she was a little biased, but no one had to know!

“Mafia, wake up,” Johnny instructed.

Jaehyun was the first to raise his head, then Haechan. Aurora was fucking baffled. There was no fucking way that kid could keep getting away with being the mafia— She remembered vividly that during lockdown, when they would play Among Us together in VC, he was the imposter almost every time, and the game was programmed to only choose people at random! But the worst part was that he got away with it almost every time….

Aurora went back to her phone. Doom scrolling for about ten minutes, she tuned out the sound of the boys arguing through every round of the game about who was actually what, why they thought someone was lying, and who they should vote out. The fans thought it was cute how invested the boys got into games like that. Aurora even saw someone throw together a quick edit of all the boys in their pajamas, pointing fingers, arguing across the room�� and the edit was of the “kawaii” variety, making Aurora laugh quietly, hoping that the camera mic didn’t pick up the noise.

“He can’t keep winning!” Mark protested, jumping Haechan once more because he’d gotten away with being the mafia, much to no one’s surprise. “Hyung, one more, please!”

Johnny's gaze flicked to Aurora’s behind the camera. She checked the time. It’d been just over an hour and a half, which meant they met their quota for the livestream so the execs would be happy… All she did was turn her phone to show him the time, indicating that it was his call if he really wanted to MC another game of mafia or finally let the boys rest, because even though Mark wanted to prove a point, the boys were obviously already out of it, ready to just talk amongst themselves and rest without a camera pointed at them. Before Aurora could even gesture that they were okay to end, however, Johnny beat her to it. He led the way by speaking to the fans, thanking them for tuning into their shenanigans, encouraging them to look forward to upcoming projects, and to rest well. Aurora’s finger hovered over the “end” button. She waited for the moment the boys all smiled and waved to say goodbye… Then after counting to ten, she finally hit it. The second the camera was off, the boys slumped and sighed, some of them even going as far as to fall backwards so that they could rest to the full extent.

Of course, if they were extremely out of it then they could’ve called it a night, but the boys had a plan to hang out and talk amongst each other, and they wanted to keep to that, because how often did they get to gather like that? When they were in front of cameras, they were always in character. When they were in public, they were on guard. When it was just them with no prerequisites, they could be their authentic selves that made them bond like brothers.

Taeyong returned to Aurora so she could be his pillow for the evening. Johnny was still beside Doyoung, the two of them ganging up on Hyuck who was talking about a girl he liked but was too chicken to ask out because he was an idol and all that— He didn’t want to deal with the whole process of having Aurora draw up an NDA to deliver to the poor girl.

Meanwhile she and Yuta were having a side conversation in Japanese while sharing a bottle of soju, laughing like they’d been friends since childhood, leaning on each other like they were the only two people in the room, joking about things that made them grateful the others didn’t understand what they were saying. Taeyong only chipped in every once in a while as he tried to force his eyes to stay open. Eventually, he fell asleep. They only realized it when he quietly began snoring with his mouth open, his hands loosening their grip around Aurora’s. As the room went quiet to be polite for their sleepy leader, Aurora smiled down at him as the boys started whispering about turning in for the night, which resulted in a sudden boost of energy Aurora wasn’t ready for, and was frankly surprised didn’t wake up Taeyong.

“I call dibs on the couch!” Haechan screamed while scrambling to his feet.

Jungwoo followed suit, racing to the door to beat his maknae there. “Same!”

That was everyone’s sign that it was time for bed. So Aurora looked in Johnny's direction and mentioned that they should get the tatami out for those who didn’t want to squish on the couch with the maknaes or share a bed. Johnny got up to go grab them from the storage closet in the wall opposite where Aurora was sitting. She gently began cooing Taeyong awake, waiting for his eyes to open and hear him pout up at her before she told him that it was time for bed… She’d help him get into bed with her and Yuta soon, but she needed to help Johnny with the tatami first.

“I’ve got him,” Yuta said. He stood and reached to help Taeyong onto his feet.

Mark, Doyoung, and Jaehyun got up to help Johnny with the tatami as well since they’d likely be using them wherever they wanted in the apartment. If Jungwoo and Haechan were going to hog the couch, one of them could fit on the floor in the living room, two others would probably have to squish onto the floor either in the guest room or stay in the dance room. When presented with their options by Aurora, they stopped to consider.

“Someone can share the bed with me,” Johnny offered.

“Sure,” Doyoung said, returning his tatami to the closet.

Jaehyun and Mark stared at each other. Who would get the living room and who would get the guest room? Or would they compromise and share the cold dance room?

“There’s enough space on the floor in the guest room,” Mark said, like he was the expert in sleeping on Johnny's apartment floor.

“Ne. It’s warm in there too,” Jaehyun added, his toes curling in his socks against the cold wood floors. “Far better than in here.”

“Okay, it’s to keep it cool while rehearsing and when the PCs are running, shut it,” Johnny scolded playfully.

“Isn’t it a thing where old people get warm naturally?” Mark teased.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I’m locking you out of the guest room.”

“No, wait, hyung, mianhaeyo!”

Doyoung rolled his eyes next and began pulling his two younger members out of the room, leaving Aurora and Johnny alone in the practice room.

Johnny scooped Aurora into his arms so that he could press a kiss against her lips while swaying her back and forth. “I can’t believe I’m actually being banished to the guest room in my own apartment.”

She kissed him again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

He hesitated for a moment, giving himself a chance to consider what she meant… But once the realization struck, Johnny perked up immediately like the simp he was, grinning ear to ear, leaning in to kiss her again.

The boys were still fast asleep in the morning. Everyone was sprawled about the apartment in the way Aurora remembered them in the nighttime— Taeyong and Yuta on the bed as she crawled out of it, Haechan squished next to Jungwoo on the couch because the floor wasn’t as comfortable as he thought it would be, and Johnny… Well, he wasn’t in the guest room anymore. Aurora found him sitting on the floor in the kitchen with his knees tucked up to his chest somewhat as he scribbled in his lyric book, his glasses slowly falling down the bridge of his nose. Aurora smirked. The thought of those glasses had gone from a concern to a sign that she desperately needed to fuck him… Alas, there were one too many guests in his apartment for that to be possible.

Instead, Aurora crept into the kitchen so as to not wake Jungwoo and Haechan who were sleeping nearby, then she sat beside Johnny who looked up to welcome her with a smile that she politely returned. Once she was settled, she rested her head on his shoulder. She didn’t want to peek into his lyric book if he didn’t want her to, so she shut her eyes.

“Where’re the others?” she questioned.

“Mark and Jaehyun are playing Overwatch in the practice room. Mark's using your PC, hope that’s okay.”

She smiled to herself. It wasn’t her PC, it was the guest PC that Johnny bought so that she could work and play games whenever she stayed over with him. But she liked the idea of him thinking that it was hers, that something else in his apartment belonged to her.

“Doyoung's reading in the office with them, or something, I’m not sure. The three of them abandoned the guest room after I woke up.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked him.

He shrugged slightly, careful not to bounce her off his shoulder. “Something like that. Been a long time since I’ve had to cuddle Doyoung instead of you,” he joked.

Aurora laughed. “Do you miss it? Living together with the boys.”

“Sometimes. I miss having a full house, getting to play games with them all the time, drinking in the living room on Friday nights, and, yeah, cuddling with them, but… We’ve all grown up since then. Most of us have places of our own now, ‘cept for Haechan and Mark, and we’ve all had girlfriends or something of the sort.” He closed his lyric book and set it to the side before putting a hand on Aurora’s thigh. “It feels nostalgic. But I don’t think I’d kill to go back to living with them.”

She opened her eyes finally. “Do you like living alone now, then?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I’m the happiest when you’re here with me.”

She blushed so much that her cheeks hurt, so she turned to hide her face against his tattooed shoulder as she mumbled, “You’re such a suck up…” at the same time he snickered and squeezed her thigh, followed by a quiet, “Love you,” that made her blush even more.

taglist: @tiredlittlevirgo , @henderysposts , @trash-number-one , @mystverse

@vrak-co , @sxmnc , @nctdreamchaser , @luvsooby

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Blood Simoleons (2.2) ~ Saturday

The sun shone through my mostly open windows, bringing the dawn of a new day, a Saturday, a day supposed to be filled with Love as it is Love day. The world today will buzz with love and romance and me? Well, I am just here alone with a stack of fluffy golden pancakes and when you think about it? Perhaps that is for the best? Pancakes would never disappoint me, unless they are burned of course, but I would never have to worry about their intentions. Their fluffy and syrupy nature would always bring me joy.

Romance can wait. Today, everything hinges upon tomorrow's commercial shoot. A single moment that could either launch my career...or destroy it. Wait, no, perhaps I am being dramatic? Yes, I suppose I am but every moment of screen time I get should be cherished, every second I'm on TV is a chance to sear my image into the mind of someone's memory. All I'd need is one take, one moment, become memorable. Leave them breathless and wanting to see me more. That's what this industry is all about, leave the audience wanting more of you no matter what you do.

Practice, that's what will get me there, practice, practice, and more practice!

I really did want to at least try and honor Love day with some classic romantic film, maybe something tragic even, but a call from my brother temporarily ruined those plans. He's calling from across the ocean and from his new home in Windenburg. We talked of nothing and we talked of everything and of course I was just happy to hear from him. One day, when I am rich and famous, when I have my own private jet or something, I'll fly over to hang out with him once a month or something but for now a phone call will do.

The day lazily drifts onward and I spent perhaps a good chunk of it at my computer and on social media. I use it sometimes to get my name out there, I do have an account with about sixty or so followers, nothing special, but I do connect with an old friend of mines.

Fernanda Guzman. A woman I thought I'd left in La Ciudad. She talks about how she might move out here to DSV in the hopes of chasing similar dreams and I, of course, egg her own. Leaving a reply under her post that I'd be here to welcome her if she makes the move. It would be great to have a friend here because right now I do feel like I'm going at this solo.

With nothing but hours before me I decide to spend them, at least a couple, with purpose. Practicing and working on my craft has become a meditation for me, each run through of lines and dialogue one step closer to a perfection that can surely never be attained. My bathroom has become a bit of a stage, I must admit, and my reflection a best friend of sorts. Making sure that each gesture and motion isn't awkward. The hands are a big part of it. You know, many people just don't know what to do with their hands?

There did happen to be some romance for me today, arriving in the form of a series of short but very thirsty texts. Marco. Who else? He just expressed his desire to see me and while it wasn't much I could certainly sense the need. It sounds like I'll be seeing him again, who knows when but it is definitely happening. I'll be honest and say I will be looking forward to seeing him again. He does give amazing kisses.

Evening comes with cooking, Strawberry Feta Salad, to be precise. I chop and season and mix but the entire time I can't help but think about my chance tomorrow, my shot. Imagining and visualizing it, even seeing, in my mind at least, the approval of the director, some applause from the set, the birthing of a star. The perfect take, no repetition, everything clicking and coalescing into a commercial that people will remember for years. "That was her first commercial!" People would say and they would be incorrect, of course, because my little Voidbop commercial would turn into a trick trivia question right under the entertainment sextion.

You might think me delusional as I daydream and have my dinner but you have to dream before you live it.

Night comes with Carina, my dear and troubled sister who operates much like an agent of this time of day. As if the lack of sun gives her courage. I realize, upon answering the phone at this late hour, that this is her working hours, that she is on the clock, I should say.

"They were really proud of how I handled it, the kittens I mean," she said, which was always her code word for Los Tigres. Kittens, cats, felines, whatever. "My new little guy really loves his catnip."

"Umm, yeah, congrats I guess?" I manage, although the compliment tasted sour in my mouth. It's hard to imagine that this is the little girl that I've grown up with but I must love her all the same.

"By the way! I'm getting a new tattoo soon!" She seems so excited about this. A tattoo in her world means everything, it means loyalty, first of all, and in her world nothing is more important. Los Tigres mark themselves with such tattoos, the higher members not much, but the one thing you can always look for is some kind of paw print or quite simply a tiger. Something vague enough to be hidden unless you know what you're looking for.

"Are you sure about this, Carina? The tattoo I mean? You know how some jobs don't like them."

"Huh? Yeah, I'm sure, it'll be a small thing, I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Yeah..." but all I could do was worry. She's diving deeper into these waters when I had hoped that she would find something else. "Be careful...with the tattoo I mean," and I hang up the phone after curt farewells. I might have to make a hard decision sometime in my future to cut her off, completely. The little Carina I knew was becoming something else and if I let her she might drag me into her world, intentionally or not.

The Love day that had begun with golden and fluffy pancakes ends with a bitter taste in my mouth. I can't worry about Carina. She's made her decision and she's chosen her road and I've chosen mine.

Index ~ Next

[reomikagekin]

Hello, may i request Till crushing on reader whos really popular? And is really pretty, till likes them since middle school and reader knows that but playfully rejects his advances:)? + courting stage maybe:3

Maybe, Eventually

Till had liked you since middle school.

You were the sun in the cafeteria—bright, confident, with a laugh that made people stop and smile. Everyone knew you, admired you, and maybe envied you just a little. You wore your popularity like armor, effortless and bold.

Till was the opposite—quiet, small, and easily overlooked. An artist who preferred pencil and paper over conversations or crowds. He was the kind of kid who blended into the background, except when he looked at you.

Because from the moment he saw you in eighth grade, something inside him shifted.

He never said a word about it. Not then. Not even when you caught him doodling your face in class.

High school started, and so did the subtle dance between you two.

You knew he liked you. You had to—he wasn’t exactly subtle. His cheeks flushed red whenever you passed by, and he’d stammer whenever you smiled at him. But instead of shutting him down, you liked to tease him gently, testing how far he’d go.

Like the day you found a note in your locker:

“You laugh like stars. – T”

It was awkward and sweet, and it made you grin wider than you expected.

Later, you caught him looking at you during lunch and whispered, “You know I don’t date people who stare at me like a tragic French poem, right?”

His face turned beet red. You laughed and walked away, your heart a little lighter.

Till’s notes kept coming.

Sketches of you caught in moments only he noticed: the way your hair caught the sunlight, the curl of your smile when no one was looking, the quiet sadness in your eyes after a long day.

He never signed more than a simple “– T,” always careful to keep his distance but never to disappear.

You found yourself saving every one, hiding them under your textbooks. You even kept a few tucked inside your jacket pocket, smelling faintly of charcoal and pencil shavings.

Your friends asked why you didn’t just say yes to him.

You smiled and shrugged, not sure what to say. You did like him—more than you’d admit—but you wanted to see where this could go.

One afternoon, after class, Till finally gathered enough courage to speak to you directly.

You were sitting in the courtyard, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone. He approached, hands nervously twisting a pen.

“Hi,” he said softly.

You looked up and grinned, “Hey, poet.”

“I was wondering… if maybe I could take you out sometime. Like a date. No notes, no drawings. Just me and you.”

Your heart fluttered. This was the moment you’d been waiting for.

You stood, stepping closer so your hair brushed his shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, that’s a yes?”

You smiled, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Maybe. You’ll have to earn it.”

The courting began gently, with shy glances and stolen moments.

He brought you coffee during study halls, trying to appear casual but dropping the cup once in a while. You laughed quietly, touched by his earnestness.

You sat beside him while he sketched, sometimes peeking at his drawings only to blush when you realized they were all of you.

Once, he accidentally called you “beautiful” out loud in the hallway. He turned bright red, and you teased him relentlessly for a week.

You let him hold your hand once—just once—and he froze like you’d given him a treasure.

You teased him about his awkwardness, but secretly, you adored it.

One evening, as the sun set and painted the sky pink, you leaned on his shoulder during a school festival.

He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his hand slowly wrapping around yours.

For the first time, the teasing faded, replaced by something softer and more real.

You whispered, “Maybe, eventually…”

He looked at you, hope shining in his eyes.

“Maybe, eventually,” he repeated, smiling like it was the most beautiful promise in the world.

[teacupsandcyanide]

I adore Billie and think she would play the Doctor very well but I am not remotely a fan of the idea of her actually being the Doctor. I want the show to go forwards, not backwards. From what I’ve read online about the production issues impacting the end of this season and from the way that “introducing Billie Piper” didn’t have “as the Doctor” on the end, I’m hopeful that it is just a horrendous “buying time with nostalgia bait” thing and an easy casting choice strategy. I can see them thinking “hey the 60th did well, let’s do that again”.

So playing within those terms: if you’re going to buy time with a nostalgia bait special, and it absolutely has to be nostalgia bait, at least make it even across the board and don’t just focus on your favourite white girl who has already returned multiple times and had more shoutouts than any other companion. Do some justice to others, particularly those who had less time and were under-utilised during their run.

For example: We find out quickly that the Doctor hasn’t regenerated with Rose’s face, what’s happened is that - due to him fucking about shooting regeneration energy into the console - the Doctor and the TARDIS have body-swapped. The TARDIS now has free reign of the Doctor’s body while it’s still in the first fifteen hours of its regeneration cycle, and it’s put on its Bad Wolf face because remember who was involved the last time someone fucked about with the console and the endless energy stored within? (Fun Who fact! Artron energy is supposed to be very similar or possibly even the same thing to regeneration energy.)

The TARDIS has some agenda of her own, possibly she wants to find Susan because 1) she’s gotten sick of waiting for the Doctor to do that 2) she misses her 3) she’s staging an intervention. So the TARDIS goes on a rollicking adventure piloting the TARDIS-which-is-now-the-Doctor, who is stuck inside the console or in some symbolic nether space as the kind of consciousness a TARDIS usually is. They don’t even have a face yet. (Possibly at some point three-quarters through they get to the point where they realise it’s impossible to fix the situation and extricate themself if they don’t even have face, so they focus really hard and … end up with Idris’s face temporarily.)

The TARDIS isn’t too bothered about the Doctor’s struggles because as far as she’s concerned they’re safely tucked away and she gets to be the thief for once. She reckons it can’t be that hard to be the Doctor. She gets herself a little companion - alright, she kidnaps someone. Her chameleon circuit is also working way better than it has in years - oh wait. No. The body isn’t supposed to do that, is it?

The body has changed again to take on a face that also once tirelessly searched for a missing Time Lady. It’s turned into Yasmin Khan. The problem is, you see, that over the centuries the TARDIS got a bit too used to taking on interfaces of past inhabitants to argue with, comfort, direct, or bitch out people, usually the Doctor. That, coupled with the natural instincts to adapt and camouflage to a new setting, means that she keeps turning into whichever companion has the most relevant skillset. She isn’t really them, she’s the TARDIS, but she’s wearing their faces, and because she has the memory of the TARDIS and that includes memories of the people she had a telepathic link with, she has access to their memories up until their last trip in the TARDIS.

When she needs to bandage a wound she becomes Belinda. When information needs to be sought out and obtained she becomes Bill Potts. When video game know how is needed, she turns into Ryan. She spends a lot of time as Bill, Yaz, and Martha, because when you’re trying to find someone Yaz will organise you and keep you focused (Clara will also come in clutch with the post-it notes), Bill will ask questions without putting people on guard, and Martha is kind of a Swiss Army knife of usefulness because she knows medical care, knows how to use weapons and navigate sci-fi MacGuffins, is intelligent and never gives up hope on a goal. Take it further back and you can have whatever Classic Who companions never got the spotlight they deserved or simply didn’t get as much time and are often forgotten. Because the TARDIS hasn’t forgotten them. The TARDIS remembers all of them. Meanwhile, companion of the day is just doing their best to keep up.

While the Doctor is trying to navigate who they could possibly turn into this time but having to do so in a space where identity as a concept doesn’t really exist, the TARDIS is dealing with flashing through all these different identities and being pulled every which way. She realises why it’s so hard to focus on the goal of finding Susan, because the harder she tries to go back the more distracted she gets - because here’s the thing, memories are never just memory. The longer she spends as one face, the more she gets wrapped up in the story of that face and the more she cares about the unresolved threads. She only has their memories up until their last trip, and their stories kept going without her. They stepped outside her before they lived their happy ending, so she has no memory of it.

And we realise that this was never just about Susan, it’s about the fact that the TARDIS never gets any choice in who goes and who stays and for how long, all she can do is sit back and watch, and she never gets to say goodbye. She goes from being psychically connected to these people to suddenly never seeing them again, and Belinda’s particularly abrupt departure right after catching a glimpse of Susan in the Doctor’s mind was the final straw.

This is the point where her little kidnapped companion, someone entirely new, is able to help her simply by being themself. Bonus points if said kidnapped companion has been treated so far like a bit of a second class citizen because the TARDIS has been so focused on finding Susan. But they do something that no other companion in the TARDIS’s memory can do or would think to do, and the TARDIS realises that the past is not the way forward, the future is. New life, new people, new friends. She has always known this and believed this, even and especially when the Doctor couldn’t. She’s just like them, she can’t stop herself from opening her doors to new strays.

So the TARDIS gives up the search and does what’s really important: she sends a goodbye message. Not on behalf of the Doctor, just for her, to any past companion who might happen to stumble across it. And to do that, she takes on the face that never got to properly say goodbye or have goodbye said to her: Susan.

Then she swaps bodies back and the Doctor is able to settle into whatever new body they settle on. Possibilities: the kidnapped companion either dies in action or is cool with being photocopied, and the TARDIS suggests their face or is wearing their face when the Doctor gets the reins back, and the Doctor either chooses to roll with it or is stuck with it due to being bad at trying on bodies during regeneration the way Romana did. Or the Doctor just has an entirely new face and now they also have a companion who was the TARDIS’s companion first and is mainly interested in sticking around to stay near her. Either way the emphasis is on heading forwards with entirely new things and accepting that you will never feel ready to let the old things you love go.

Biggest problem with all of this: I would write it as a fanfic but never as an actual episode. Apart from breaking its own Aesop, it would heinous to watch as a viewer who wasn’t intimately familiar with every character flashing onscreen. There’s no way to actually do it that does even-handed justice to Classic companions too because there’s just too many of them. This is just my suggestion trying to follow the prompt of “if you absolutely had to do a big nostalgia bait episode and this was the lead-in you were given, what would you do?” What I would actually do is Not Fucking This; I’d have Fifteen regenerate into literally anyone except a character we’ve already seen a lot of.