#and she's grown so much as a musician also

[eriong]

𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 // 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒃𝒐𝒙

[sendmyresignation]

anyway finally finished girls to the front. obviously had a lot of opinions about it. i have a lot more respect for the day-to-day lived realities of riot grrls and the underground community fostered. but like. man. is the music so secondary. my main critique of riot grrl is it took many of those bands growing out of the movement amd growing up to hit something truly, artistically great (music-wise).

[azlrse]

➳ the headwardens as fathers (twst x gn!reader headcanons; separate)

cw: 'a decade later' au, fluff, accurate/canon take on the houswardens' background, angst in some parts (mostly on vil and idia's part)

a/n: decided to post this just to practice the characters as accurate as possible. also, imma be writing some of the housewardens for the first time soo i hope it's good lol

Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

due to his upbringing, riddle can be strict towards his children, whether it's from their grades and their studies alone since he believes that one's studies are very important to a child's future.

but not all the time riddle is like this. as a father, he only wants what is best to his children and refuses to treat them the way their grandmother does to him in his childhood. he even encourages them to take a certain career his kid wants. do you want to be a musician? he can buy his kid an instrument they've always wanted. not a musician but instead a baker? he can tell their uncle trey to give them private lessons to be the best baker in the queendom of roses.

there are certain times the two of you are arguing over a punishment. riddle knew rosabella punched a kid (he had flashbacks when her godfather punched him) stole her tart and decided that his kid will be grounded for a week. you, on the other hand, rebutted that she only did it out of self-defense and that's the last tart she had. this goes on back and forth, even for an hour, and her punishment reduced to 2 days minimum. rosabella didn't like that but at least it's better than to stare at books for a week straight.

riddle is the type of father to teach his children magic early on. not because it's enforced by his mother but because he just wants them to use magic in case of emergencies and for them to have an advantage to their education. he encourages them so much that he offers them sweets and strawberry tarts if they make it through their lesson.

overall, riddle's just protective over his children and knows what's best for them but at the same time is strict towards them.

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

leona didn't expect to have his own children, especially to the prefect of ramshackle dorm who's grown into a sophisticated and loving adult.

he's the type of father to teach his children the concept of fairness. he doesn't want them to have the same upbringing as he had in his childhood and growing up to have an inferiority complex. leona also embedded to them that one's hardwork can signify what kind of a person are they, especially that they're royalty.

when it comes to his children, he's deep down a girl dad but nonetheless loves his children equally. leona loves spending time with his kids, especially when taking walks around sunset savanna or taking them to ivory springs.

his parenting style can be permissive sometimes but thanks to your constant nagging, he steps in to reprimand them on what's wrong and right. sadly, he doesn't mind when his daughter & son can be demanding sometimes but is behaving very well when it comes to you (thanks to the 'stare' you enforced into them in their childhood).

like riddle, leona also helped his children in terms of their education, he might pull a string or two in order for them to attend a really good school. after all, they don't want the crown prince of sunset savanna and a father to be disappointed, right??

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

hands down, the type of parent who wants his children to pursue the field of finance and marketing. no buts or ifs, he really wants them to pursue such career so that they can take over the business someday when he and their uncles are retiring.

there could be a possibility that his children are half-merfolk since you are human. hence, you and azul wanted to teach your kids both cultures, whether it's on land or water. he can be self-conscious and scared towards his children on the possibility that they inherited his octopus form. what if they didn't like the said form? what if they're being teased because of their body shape? what if they despised it so much that they wished their own father was a merman instead of an cephalopod? you reassured him that the both of you will teach them the importance of self-image and self-love.

speaking of their seaforms, azul is the type of father who will cry when his kid swam on their own for the first time (equivalent to a toddler taking their first steps). it doesn't matter if they're a late bloomer when it comes to their seaform, azul is still proud on the progress his children obtain.

every birthdays & anniversaries or any special occasions are held within the beach. imagine his parents swam on the surface of the ocean just to see their grandchildren. they would gush about how cute their grandchildren were, especially when they're still a little chubby baby.

heavily encourages his kids to fight back just in case they're being bullied by their peers. he's the kind of dad to call them in his office, not to scold them but praising on how they beat up that kid in a pulp (thanks to their uncle floyd ig--)

Kalim Al Asim 💛

husband material + loves children = THE BEST FAMILY MAN OUT OF ALL THE HOUSEWARDENS AND HUSBAND MATERIAL # 1.

probably the type of dad who loves spoiling his children rotten and sometimes gives into their demands but at the same time likes to teach his children the concept of hard work. after all, not all the time everything is handed to them on a silver platter (albeit to their father being raised on a silver spoon).

undoubtedly wants more than 5 children, whether they're biological or not (but will not push through if you are uncomfortable with the idea). this guy is raised having 30+ siblings so it's understandable why he wants that many children and having a huge family.

as usual by kalim, every achievement earned by his children, in academics, extracurriculars or birthdays, holds a grand & extravagant celebration. won the regional spelling bee? a celebration must take place! oh, you hold second place on a swimming completion? here's a parade to celebrate such occasion! a birthday party? that's too plain, how about a 3 day celebration for the birthday kid?

low-key his children would let out an 'aww' when they saw their father kissing you :'33

like leona, kalim would take on a bit on a permissive parenting style since he would give into the demands of his children and saying no makes it difficult for him to say in front of them. thanks to your talks and reprimanding him, he learned to say no directly into them and chose to cool down their tantrums before talking to them again.

Vil Shoenheit 💎

idk how to write vil accurately soo im really sorry if this one sucks and comes across as out of character ;_;;

out of all the housewardens, i believe that vil can be really strict when it comes to his children's appearances but also cares sm for their well-being and is fiercely protective of them. he believes that his children are the splitting of him and his lover (you ofc) plus he's a celebrity and a model so that adds to the fuel on why his children's appearances are really important.

most of his children confided on you on how suffocated they felt due to their father's demands and high standards when it comes to beauty. how they cried, begged and asked you if you still loved them even if they're covered in scars, acne or having oily skin. you reassured them that you and their father loved them so much, much to the children's happiness in hopes that they're father can be less controlling.

of course, you talk about this to your husband regarding this issue and vil can understand the children's point of view. he doesn't want them to be bullied, to be teased or being compared to him since they're the children of the biggest celebrity in the industry. he also promises that he'll talk to the children and apologizes for making them miserable.

on the fluffier side, vil loves spending time with the kids. going shopping or having photography sessions are some of the examples and heavily adores them when his children are being made to be endorsers/models on a children's brand of clothing. when his daughter asked him for tips when it comes to make up, vil didn't hesitate to teach her the basics (also buys her the make up brands she really wanted).

teaches his children the importance of fighting prejudice towards gender norms. vil is the type of father to accept that kind of future his children chose for themselves and does not give a shit when it comes to people's opinions on them; his son wants to wear make up? sure why not, he also wears one during his time as a student in nrc. his daughter wanted to crossdress? why not? it's just clothes and at least she's not waking around naked.

Idia Shroud 💠

to those who voted on the poll and answered idia, ya'll deserve a pat cause he won 😭🙌

as much as i love idia shroud, idia is the houswarden that's least likely to become a father due to his trauma and fucked up family dynamic but what if he does become a father with the only person that he loves and is comfortable to be with?

hands down a helicopter parent fr, like this guy suffered so much that he didn't want his own children to go through the same fate he had in his childhood. man even prohibits his kids to go out w/o telling him first but also values his children's privacy in terms of their gadgets and other private stuff.

when his kids were born, he knew straight up that the kids inherited his flaming blue hair due to his cursed bloodline (and prays that his kids won't hate him for it) but loves it when he saw their (e/c) eyes for the first time (at least his kids looked like the combination of the two of you). aside from that, ortho's excited to become an uncle and wants to be the cool kind of uncle to his brother's children.

as always, when his children were a bit older, he wanted to teach them the basics of coding and video game development. being the children of the director of styx and a professional gamer, he expects his kid to be as good as he is in these kinds of field. if his kids wanted to pursue a different path as he is or a different hobby, he doesn't mind at all but is disappointed to say the least.

due to the shroud curse, at least one of the children has to take over styx when they're now at age sadly. as a father, he really wants them to pursue a future without revolving around in his family's business but they couldn't avoid it.

doesn't care how much his children spent on things due to an immense wealth his family holds. don't be surprised his children's rooms were covered in merch of their favorite video game or fandom. he heavily supports his children having the same passion as he is as a geek.

Malleus Draconia 🐉

HUSBAND MATERIAL #2 FRFRRR

if future malleus told past malleus that he became a father and the husband of the ramshackle dorm's prefect, it's either he'll pass out from happiness or becomes excited so much that he wants to confess his feelings in front of you.

a big family man, aside from his heavy duty as the crowned king of briar valley, he always set aside some time to spend with you and his children on the rose garden by the greenhouse of the castle. he also doesn't care what are the other fae's think about his own half-human faelets, he still loved that the kids are the creation of both of your love to each other.

speaking of the other faes, he will hear a thing or two about children of their ages making fun about their half-human characteristics like having rounded ears instead of pointed ones like their own father. like vil shoenheit, he is fiercely protective about his children and would confront the kid's parents if the bullying had gone too far but he's a really forgiving father don't worry.

adding to the previous statement, his heart would break a bit when he knew either one of his children are either being excluded (preventing them from playing a game with the other kids or isn't invited to a birthday party).

the type of father who let's them sleep in the middle of the both of you when one of them had a nightmare. he can sense it when his children are in dire need of his assistance and wants to sleep beside the both of you for comfort.

really loves it when he sees his children playing on the throne room. he loves the noise they emitted comparing to the quiet and eerie noise the throne room before they were born. one of the playdates you and malleus joined with your children is about a roleplay involving a knight trapped in a tower while a dragon saved them and fell on love with each other. i would imagine them kissing in the final scene as the children gagged from the public display of affection.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[joonsytip]

So It Goes || Wonwoo

Synopsis: Your acceptance of his rejection and attempt on moving on has been hurting Wonwoo to the bones, head and most significantly, his heart.

Word Count: 1.3k

Sequel to Say Don't Go and set in the Withering for You universe (can be read as a standalone drabble series).

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, mention of fucking once, making out

Next Part : All Too Well

[ SVT Masterlist ][ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

"Take me with you, please."

Wonwoo double takes at you, finding it hard to believe that such words could come out of your mouth and not be directed at him.

You are grinning ear to ear, something you haven't done in a while.

"Are you sure because all I do is work.", Jihoon tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and says, "You'd eventually get bored of me."

"I can fill in for all the interesting things", you tell him coyly.

Seungcheol and his wife are expecting their first baby so the group decided to throw a party to the soon to be parents. The ambience is cozy, the lights are dim. Soothing music is filling in the space and after long and fun conversations all together, now you all are scattered in groups chatting the night away.

Jihoon is a new addition to the group, the prodigal musician who was initially bagged by Seungcheol's wife to manage the new branch of the academy founded by her and Seungkwan but ended up playing an important part in the reunion of Seungcheol and his wife and hence was adopted by the group instantly. Especially you, you've grown fond of Jihoon. Seems the same for him as well.

It's a pleasing atmosphere, everything is eye pleasing but also, such an eyesore to Wonwoo. Because though no one has asked him to be standing so close to you, he at his own will, is leaning against a wall adjacent to where you're seated across Jihoon who has now his hand placed atop yours. Wonwoo's teeth are sinking onto an empty cup, eyes sharp and hands fisted with all his attention spanned on you.

"You're making it so obvious."

Wonwoo turns his head to Seungcheol's whispering, the later grabs his arm and takes him away to a more secluded area. Seungcheol takes a quick jog to his wife asking her to call him if she needs anything, kisses her forehead softly and walks back to where his friend is standing.

"So what are you gonna about it?", Seungcheol asks.

Wonwoo doesn't meet his eyes, "About what?"

Seungcheol sighs, he understands where his friend is coming from and also feels guilty about his family painting this horrendous picture of the rich and powerful that has scared the person infront of him so much that he believes almost everyone is sick and twisted.

"Everyone in this room knows that you like Y/N.", Seungcheol says sadly patting his shoulder, "And not every family is sick like mine.", he smiles sweeping a quick glance at his wife, "But look we're back together, after everything, we're in love, we're gonna have a family soon. It's the best of anything I could have ever asked for."

To be honest, when Seungcheol got back together with his wife, it would given Wonwoo a hope, he could see the silver linings but he is still afraid.

"I have already rejected her and...", Wonwoo's gaze falls on you, a sad smile ghosting on his lips, "She looks happier with him, she's moving on."

You haven't looked at him once and he's unable to take his eyes off you tonight.

"You're mistaken.", Seungcheol says and hands him a filled cup, "You don't need to hold back everytime. Try living for yourself from now on."

It's not easy he thinks, not when his brother is lying unconscious, getting treated in the hospital, not when you belong to the family of chaebols, several heirs lining up to get married to you while he's just a secretary, who's still trying to meet ends.

Wonwoo doesn't hold back, he finds a seat at one of the tables and resorts to drinking which he has never done before as an obligation to himself to be the one to drive all others to safety, though never been asked.

"He's worse than her.", Mingyu tells Seungkwan.

"Shouldn't we stop him?", Chan asks, "He's drowning in his sorrows."

"Damn, Jihoon turned out to be such a great actor, even I'd have believed that there's something going on between Y/N and him, if I hadn't known.", Seungkwan mutters eyes going back and forth between the three of you, "It's funny knowing Jihoon has a motive to make Wonwoo jealous but sad knowing Y/N wants him to think she's moving on just not to be a burden to him anymore."

It's the dawn hours when Seungcheol who is as sober as day just so he could attend his wife anytime is begging everyone to dismiss the party insisting his wife needs to maintain her sleep schedule and rest well but she won't leave until everyone does.

"Okay, so my driver's coming , anyone wants to come with me?", Chan asks.

Seungkwan and Mingyu immediately tags along.

"Jihoon, Y/N what about you both?", Seungcheol asks.

"Take Jihoon with you both.", you say sighing, "I am not drunk, haven't had drinks."

"Okay, we are gonna take Wonwoo also--"

You cut off Seungcheol, "I'll take Wonwoo with me, don't worry."

No one objects, one by one they leave. You go to Wonwoo who hasn't sobered up a bit despite of the efforts of Mingyu from before.

"Come on, let's go.", you tell him, helping him to get up.

Drunk Wonwoo is chatty, his honeydew voice is eating off your ears as you struggle to put his big frame inside the car.

He's talking about how he keeps loosing the games nowadays because he lacks concentration. He talks about how happy he was when the doctors said that his brother can have a full recovery. He's spilling out random facts, cracking lame jokes and whatnot.

He's so cute, you think. You wanna record this version of him, wanna stop driving and give your full attention to him, to look at him. Because you know once he sobers up he's not gonna remember any of this, going back to his stoic self.

Seungcheol has texted you the passcode of his house and somehow you've ended on sheets under Wonwoo.

"Be here, with me", he mumbles, his soft breaths grazing your neck.

"Wonwoo, move", you huff trying to get him off you but fail one more time as his arms lock you in place.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, removes the hair off your face and says, "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So good at everything you do, have so many people admiring you.", he smiles through the slurry words, "You could have anyone, anyone would be willing to be with you but out of all people you choose me."

You go stiff when he rests his forehead against you. And your whole body gives up when he confesses, "I love you, Y/N. Love you so much that it hurts. I'm so sorry for hurting you."

After some moments of staring, your hands attempt to push him again, "You're just drunk, you don't mean anything you're saying. Please--"

The words remain stuck in your throat as Wonwoo kisses you. His lips move softly against yours, the aftertaste of alcohol in his mouth intoxication you as well, as you find yourself giving in, kissing him back.

He takes both of your hands and pins them above your head, deepening the kiss. You moan, gasping for breath, letting his tongue lick your whole mouth. Every ounce of rational thoughts leaves your body, just like the clothes those stay discarded on his bedroom floor.

Wonwoo is fast asleep beside you, hugging your naked body after fucking you hard because you surely wouldn't call it making love.

You slowly remove his hand and get up. After putting back your clothes on, you keep the medicine and water on the sidetable.

"You probably didn't mean for any of this to happen between us.", you whisper, trying to hold back the tears, "You won't even remember all of this."

You peck the side of his head and take your leave.

When Wonwoo wakes up later, he groans because of the killer headache but also sobers up straight, panicking when he finds no traces of you in the house.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[matchaelette]

GIF from pinterest

when exhausted jungkook is equal to a cranky jungkook but you’re just a simple girl

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, both ash and jungkook are working very hard and they’re exhausted to the point where it feels like they might drop dead soon. kook gets frustrated because ash won’t pay him enough attention but soon she ends up pampering his majesty’s ass anyways. also, there’s a backdrop on ash’s life; she is a musician and a part of iu’s band.

genre: pure fluff.

warning: none. go crazy children

word count: 4.5k

notes: I know I know, like, a part of iu’s band? isn’t that a bit too much? nah it’s not. I have enough reality chasing me irl, let me have my fun here. also, I hope ya’ll are doing okay. a new year comes with a lot of expectations and responsibilities so don’t be too hard on yourselves <3 happy 2024 peeps :D

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

“ooh she used the full name, have I been a bad boy?”, the words tumble down your boyfriend’s lips with a dramatic flare, followed by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, unfazed by the sheer force of your previous sentence, “what do you mean what do I want? attention and affection, of course.”

not that you’re counting, but what you assume to be the nineteenth sigh tonight, leaves your lips. your eyelids were so heavy that you doubted if even a fire in the building could wake you up. exhaustion tore at your limbs and you didn’t have the power to lift your eyelids to shoot a glare at your golden retriever boyfriend, let alone muster enough energy to face him and provide him... what did he say again? attention and affection.

you’ve been tirelessly working throughout the week, barely having time to eat or sleep. almost every day you’re coming back home at four in the morning, when jungkook is sound asleep, and leaving again in three hours, when he is yet to wake up. it’s the first time in quite a few days that you came home at a reasonable hour and were tangled in the bed with a very much awake jungkook. but as much as you want to entertain him, your body does not seem willing to cooperate.

you’re a musician, and boy when you pursued a music career, you never thought it could ever make you tired. music has been your love and your life since you could remember and a very fundamental part of your life. whether it was humming random strings of sounds while having your diaper changed as a baby (your parents’ word) or singing meaningless lyrics to any tune you heard when you started talking (again, your parents’ word), your love for music has always just grown. you’re now a full-blown musician, having the privilege to work with all the a-rated musicians of the world. you are pretty much a regular member of iu’s band— iu being the living legend of korea and the forever-long crush of jungkook’s life— but you still worked with other artists from time to time, sometimes as a producer, sometimes as a composer.

throughout your high school years, you developed a reputation as the person who would randomly start humming during examinations, writing lyrics on her exam papers, and always playing instruments or plainly singing in every single school function. and if that wasn’t a wake-up call, getting scouted as a musician through your personal instagram was certainly one. it happened right during the end of high school when you were preparing for uni, and the single event changed everything in your life. you were scouted by an agency called bighit, and they convinced you to audition, intriguing you enough to skip school one day and show up in a rusty building in the gangnam district of seoul with a guitar hanging on your shoulder. impressed by your skills, they signed you up as a trainee.

it was one of the best things that happened in your life.

ironically, it was also where you met your boyfriend for the first time.

saying your parents weren’t happy when you decided to completely backtrack from uni and focus solely on music would be an understatement. you were always an exceptional student— part of the reason your teachers would always overlook you humming in class or using your projects as a canvas for your musical colors— and were supposed to major in business studies as your parents’ wishes. while it was never something you hated— in fact, you always thought that you’d rather be a super successful businesswoman if you couldn’t be a musician— but having your first choice being handed to you on a silver platter, you'd be a fool not to take it. your parents were enraged, they cut you off from the family entirely, but you were nothing if not stubborn. determined to make it, alone if you have to, you've worked your ass off for all these years to get into the position you’re in now, a place where your name is gold-plated in the music industry.

but success was never truly your goal. your goal was to simply stay immersed in a world of music and you can’t help but take pride of how far all alone. but working like your life depended on it became sort of a habit, sometimes to the point where a singular musical note could make you groan. you don’t sing as much as you used to back in high school, instead, you use up all your time to compose music and play the guitars for iu.

said idol is supposed to be having a comeback very soon, somewhere your boyfriend’s bandmate was also going to star— kim taehyung— and so work has been extra draining lately, with everyone trying to master every single detail and point.

“kook, stoooop”, you whine, burying your face in the soft pillow, waterfalls of hair obscuring your vision as you make a feeble attempt to wriggle out of jungkook’s grasp. but he is relentless. he rolls his eyes and manhandles you back into his arms, causing you to let out a small yelp as your back presses against his chest.

jungkook, himself, was tired as hell. while you were coming back at four in the morning, he was coming back at three, working equally hard as you. jungkook is always driven by his passions and he never hesitates to work hard for it, but despite that fact, this week has been particularly challenging, especially with the pressure of working on his own solo album. the lack of food and sleep was almost getting to him, leaving him irritable to the point where he almost snapped at the choreographer. although he apologized quickly, he noticed that he was in the mood where people pick up fights for no reason. he decided to just come back home and get some rest before something else could provoke him, but when he discovered you were at home as well, he couldn’t help but get clingy. after all, you guys haven’t properly talked for weeks.

and he missed you.

“c’mon, I can’t even see your face”, jungkook props himself up on his elbow, his breath gently fanning your face.

“we’ve already established the fact i’m pretty. let me sleep, kook.”

“aren’t pretty faces meant to be looked at?”

jungkook furrows his brows when he gets no answer from you. he blinks furiously to keep his own exhaustion at bay and studies your face to see if you’ve already drifted off to sleep. your eyes are closed, and he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart inside the hoodie of his that you’re wearing. he can also sense you’re not asleep though. not yet anyway.

“babeee”, jungkook lets out a high-pitched whimper and immediately yelps when you elbow him in the ribs but he isn’t sure which one strikes a nerve, the elbow or the words that follow.

“dude, would you please let me sleep? I am tired as fuck and I have to wake up early”, you grit your teeth in clear annoyance, not even bothering to open your eyes, “unlike some people”

jungkook feels a twinge of guilt, but he can also feel a surge of a new emotion. anger? before he can fully comprehend what is going on, inconsiderate words escape his mouth.

“so am I. but you don't see me complaining all the time.”

your eyes fly open. before you can fully discern their meaning of jungkook’s words, he moves away from you, retreating completely to his side of the bed and putting as much space between your bodies as possible. you use your last fragments of remaining energy to prop yourself up into a half-seated position to face him, but jungkook has already turned his back on you.

“what is that supposed to mean?”

silence.

“jungkook, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“go to sleep, okay?”, his quiet voice makes you falter and you immediately understand that he is angry. though for what, you don’t quite understand.

“jungkook, i’m sleepy, okay? and—”

“then sleep! no one’s stopping you now.”

“but you’re mad at me for being tired! how is that fair? i’ve been working like crazy—”

“geez, sorry for being unfair, ash”, sarcasm drips from jungkook’s voice and you don’t like that in the slightest, “I also have to wake up early, earlier than you in fact, so please let me sleep.”

an uncomfortable silence follows his sentence.

“alright”, you sigh and drop it after staring at his back for a few seconds. you don’t want to get into an argument now, not when both of you are on the verge of collapsing, prone to say things you don’t mean at all. you’d rather sleep and deal with it in the morning when both of you are well rested and not running on two hours of sleep and a shit ton of caffeine.

it’s not always you get to see this side of jungkook. anyone who knows him knows that the boy is crafted from starry skies and honeyed galaxies alone, always smiling a bit too easily and lighting everyone around him as bright as the evening star.

however, every time you see a crack at his easy, carefree demeanor, you can’t help but feel a sense of helplessness within. jungkook doesn’t get irritated often and certainly not easily, but when he does, his behavior takes a different turn. he doesn’t shout or scream or take his anger out on inanimate objects as you tend to do. instead, he completely shuts himself out of the world. every curt answer feels like a form of silent treatment, every word spoken laces itself with sarcasm, always hitting where it hurts the most. even though he never takes his anger out on you, you don’t like seeing him like this.

if you knew he would react like this, you would have given a little more effort to remain awake in his company. jungkook may be childish but he rarely behaves like this. and you’re just a simple girl, hopelessly in love with the boy who has his back turned to you.

“goodnight”, you draw closer to him and drape an arm around his waist hesitantly. when he doesn’t stir or reply, a dejected sigh escapes your lips. nonetheless, you tenderly wrap the blanket around him and nestle your face at the nape of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of fresh linen and mint.

despite the fatigue draping your limbs, despite jungkook starting to softly snore within minutes, it takes you an entire hour to fall asleep.

you let out yet another groan as memories from last night come flooding back into your mind. it has been like that all day, the memories coming and going as they pleased, striking you with a sense of disappointment every time they do. jungkook was already gone when you woke up in the morning and despite knowing he had an early schedule, you couldn't help but feel downhearted.

you immediately checked your phone back then, hoping to find a message from him but much to your disappointment, there was none. both you and jungkook had quite hectic schedules, but it became an unspoken agreement in the house to update each other about your days ever since you moved in together. jungkook would always leave little neon post-its on the fridge with messages— reminder to eat something before you get coffee!!! and call me after you wake up, let’s get lunch together??? — whenever he left the house before you were up and vice versa. soon, the post-its turned into text messages because it was always easier in the rush of the mornings. jungkook would always wake up to texts from you— before you get mad, I did kiss you before leaving but you wouldn’t budge— and he would instantly call you to check if your schedules aligned and if he could pick you up after work.

but having no text from jungkook this morning could mean only one thing.

he is still mad.

despite being agitated because of your lack of basic human activities, you pushed aside those emotions and called him immediately. you got more worried when jungkook didn’t pick the phone up because you knew he wasn’t one to hold petty grudges. you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed then, brushing and getting ready to face the day. now that you’ve had gained a few hours of rest, you realized how tired jungkook looked last night. you could almost hear the constant grumbles from his stomach that pointed out how hungry he was. But he kept saying that he didn’t have the energy to eat. you could see the swollen eyelids and the purple hue outlining it more clearly, how he walked unsteadily as if he was drunk.

jungkook called you back while you were on your way to work. you weren’t really surprised but it still dissipated some of your nerves. he explained that his phone was on silent and he didn’t see your call but his voice still sounded distant and his responses were short. he also mentioned that he might not come home tonight, hoping to squeeze in some extra practice hours.

he didn’t call you once for the rest of the day.

very un-jungkook of him.

and you were too busy to call him.

it is nearly midnight now. you find yourself inside your car, driving through the dimly lit streets of seoul. despite the hour, the city is bustling, alive with people and emotions. driving through the city always puts you at ease; you hated crowds but you loved observing people, the multitudes of emotions they go through every moment, making every one so much different than another but still intricately woven within love and life.

after the long day, you yearned for the warmth and comfort of your bed, considering skipping the shower part because that’s how drained you were. you didn’t eat anything all day, something that has become a routine now, save for the apple you grabbed while leaving the house in the morning. minus the seven-something cups of coffee.

yet you find yourself driving in the direction of the hybe studios.

you’re almost near the building when a sudden realization makes you click your tongue in annoyance. should have gotten some flowers. why did I not think of that before?

you park your car and make your way inside the extravagant building. the staff knew you well by now, both from your days as a trainee and your frequent visits to your boyfriend and his bandmates. you ascend to the top floor of the establishment, going straight toward one of the empty practice rooms jungkook loves to use whenever he is rehearsing on his own.

pushing the door open, you enter the room. the space is slightly dark, only illuminated with neon purple lights, ridiculously confirming your boyfriend’s presence to you. call it jungkook being jungkook, but your boyfriend hates harsh lights. you don’t doubt that he would happily reside in the darkness for the rest of his life if he was asked to.

you spot jungkook in the farthest corner of the room— hybe practice rooms are scarily huge— a blur of black sweats and bobbing hair, vigorously throwing hooks and uppercuts at the gray punching bag hanging in front of him. even from a distance you can see that he is completely absorbed in his own world, a side of him that you have come to know well over the years. this jungkook is full of energy and passion. this jungkook is the golden maknae of bts, putting his heart and soul into whatever he was working on, squeezing every last drop of capability, and surpassing every single one of his limits every minute. this is the boy who keeps on giving birth to beauty, elegance, and unparalleled talent.

you didn’t like to disrupt jungkook’s concentration when he was working so you decide to sit silently until he noticed your himself. however, concern washes over you when you see the lack of gloves in his hand. instead, his hands are wrapped with gauze and tape as he mercilessly throws jabs at the punching bag, and you can notice the blood seeping through the rips of the cloth around his knuckles.

“are you trying to piss me off on purpose?”, you hiss softly, walking towards him and putting your palm on his shoulder so as not to scare him. but jungkook yelps in shock anyways, bambi eyes wide and startled like a deer caught in front of headlights.

“ash?”

“why are you not wearing gloves?”, you take his hands into your own, flinching when you get a good look at it. his knuckles were visible through the torn cloth, red and angry, blood seeping through the gashes on his skin.

“sorry—”, jungkook throws you a sheepish glance, recovering from the initial shock, “—when did you come here? wait, why are you here?”

“to kick your ass”, you say, exasperated, “seriously jungkook, how hard is it to wear a glove? you just take the damn thing and squeeze your hand insi—”

“I did! but then it tore somehow”

you scowled.

“it’s true! look! I threw it on the ground when it ripped. it’s still there!”

“then don’t punch so hard!”

“but I have to train!”, jungkook pouted, hoping his cute facial expression would calm you down. you scowled more.

you huff, releasing his hands and making your way toward the line of closets in the back of the room. it’s where the first aid kits are usually kept. you know every practice room in the entire building has one or two of these because this is where most of the accidents happens. you can sense jungkook’s gaze following you but he remains mute.

getting what you need, you take a seat on the furnished floor and pat it, urging jungkook to do the same. he falls silent once again, any surprise from your unexpected arrival which urged him to talk normally wore off and the tension was back.

jungkook complies and sits down in front of you. he takes a good few seconds to stare at your outstretched palms before sighing in defeat and offering you his hands when he notices your enraged glare. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of your rage. and doesn’t matter he says, he would be lying if he said his hands didn’t throb from the pain.

you carefully remove the white gauges from his hands, wincing when more blood oozes out. looking at red cuts and bruises across his skin almost physically pains you, but jungkook stays completely silent, eyes drinking you in. he recalls being mad at you but he can’t quite recall the reason. it’s not because he can't remember now, especially with you here, tending to his wounds in such a delicate manner that you fear you would hurt him. as if something as gentle as your touch could ever cause him harm. not because you look like you were put on this earth to solely heal his hands. and not because you showed up here unannounced. because he genuinely can’t remember what made him so mad at you last night, literally out of thin air, and now he feels embarrassed at his own immaturity.

he just couldn’t figure out how to approach you after being a total jerk.

weird how humans tend to hurt the ones they love the most, almost always for no particular reason at all.

you finish your work wordlessly, putting band-aids around his knuckles and ointment on the cuts peppering his fingers. letting his hands fall onto his lap, you gather the bloodied materials from the floor and rise up to throw them in the waste paper box. jungkook follows your suit, standing up cluelessly.

“you’re gonna start throwing punches again?”

“hmm? uh no— I think I will practice the choreographies now”

“okay”, you sigh.

jungkook looks like hell, you realize. his messy hair is messier than usual, sticking out wildly at all angles, eyes droopy and rimmed with circles darker than you remember seeing last night. sweat glistened on his hunched figure tired from the physical exertion, soaking his sweatshirt.

you know you look just as worn out as him. you can feel it by the way he looks at you.

“uh so— are you gonna drive ho—”

“come with me.”

jungkook’s eyes widen as you wrap your arms around his torso, hiding your head on his chest. while a sweaty jungkook usually makes you giggle out a gross and maneuver far away, you hug him with gentle ardor, more so than usual.

you just want him to come home tonight.

“ash, sweetheart, i’m sweating”, jungkook tries to pry himself away from you but you just hold him tighter.

“don’t care. please come home.”

jungkook goes limp in your clutch for a few seconds before he’s softly hugging you back. of course, he would go home if you wanted him to, you didn’t need to ask him twice. who the heck is he to deny you? always a prisoner to your wishes, always prisoner to your love, and gladly so. how could he not? he rests his chin on your head and sways your body from side to side in a rhythm.

“okay”

“really?”

“really.”

the drive back home was short.

you drove, as jungkook was all out of it. he didn’t have the physical and mental coordination to walk down the building to the car, how the boy was gonna rehearse overnight, you had no idea.

“whoops, babe how were you gonna dance?” you supported his weight leaning down on you while you were walking, steading yourself before both of you fell on the ground, one arm wrapped around his torso, his figure hunched and head resting on your neck.

“I can walk. I am just choosing not to since you’re here”, he flashed you a grin with his eyes closed.

after arriving home, jungkook went straight to the shower and for a few seconds, you contemplated joining him. however, recalling how jungkook’s grumbling tummy throughout the whole ride, made you change your decision. he mentioned that he didn’t eat anything fulfilling all day. that is why you told him to freshen up and made a beeline towards the kitchen to make some instant ramen, not very healthy but quick and easy, and always gratifying.

so here you are now, serving ramen into two bowls with the leftover kimchi you guys had in the fridge. sleepiness makes your eyelids droop and you feel like prying them open with scotch tapes.

like tom, you snort to yourself, from tom and jerry.

man, you loved that cartoon during your childhood.

after all these years, you still don’t know if you’re team tom or team jerry.

hearing a faint clicking sound, you turn around and see jungkook approaching you, shirtless and clad in sweatpants. the shower had done marvels because he looks as attractive as he always does, with the water dripping down his damp hair onto the well-defined muscles in his chest. feeling a blush creep in, you quickly avert your eyes.

both of you are tired enough without resorting to er— any other activities for the night.

“what are you doing in the kitchen?” jungkook stares at you with confused doe eyes.

“putting food on the table like the dutiful girlfriend I am.”

“pretty sure that’s wife material”, jungkook whispers as he works his way into your arms, tugging your waist flushed with his.

“kook, you need to dry your hair properly! you’ll catch a cold”, you scold him softly, feeling greasy when you see him so fresh and glowy. you card a hand through his locks, feeling it to be more sopping than it seemed. you break free from his grasp to grab a towel from the washroom, ignoring the loud protests.

“sit”, you command, gesturing for jungkook to sit on one of the stools lining the kitchen island. when he complies, you gently massage his head with the towel, squeezing every last drop of remaining water from his hair. jungkook prefers to air dry his hair when he is at home, allowing it to get some rest from all the heat and styling he has to do on a regular basis, but he also religiously manages to forget at least soaking the water out.

he grabs you closer by pulling your waist. you stand between his thighs and continue massaging his scalp while he muffles his face on your chest, desperately seeking your warmth and comfort. a smile stretches across your face watching jungkook moan in satisfaction.

“how are the hands?”

“mmm good. need to put more band-aids”, his voice comes out hoarse being squished in your chest, “you didn’t need to cook. I know you are tired.”

“but i’m hungry too”

“oh. let’s eat then! it smells so fucking good!”

and jungkook’s sudden burst of enthusiasm prompts a hearty laugh from you, endeared to your core, just as you always find yourself enamored by his every action.

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

jungkook’s soft laughter echoes inside the room in response to the aggression in your tone. he pulls you closer to himself, wrapping an arm tightly around your torso once your back is secured against his chest. after finishing your meal, jungkook volunteered to clean the dishes while we waited for you to take a shower. now that both of you are clean and full, you find yourselves tangled together in bed once again; your usual routine, you trying to sleep and jungkook trying to keep you awake.

“I want you to eat well. I want you to sleep well. you. I want you. always you”, he presses his face in your hair, taking in the aroma of wood and wild berries.

“and I am sorry”, he adds quietly.

you stir when you hear his words, turning around in his hold to face him. you know what he is apologizing for.

“well, you should be.”

“I really am.”

“i'm kidding, kook. you don’t need to be sorry. you were tired and—”

“but see, that’s the thing! every time I tell you that i’m tired and just want to sleep, you make damn sure I get some actual rest but I—”, he gestures at himself, looking at you with utmost concentration, “start acting like a spoiled child when I don’t get absolutely one hundred percent of your attention.”

“can't really disagree with that.”

“hey!”

“your words, not mine!”, you let out a squeal as jungkook tries to tickle you, holding him tighter in an attempt to make him stop, “love, that’s a part of you. and I adore that. that you feel comfortable enough to get mad at me for nothing. I don’t want you all smiley and cheery, without the bad things. I love you. and I want you as... you.”

“however annoying you may be”, you add as an afterthought.

jungkook scrunches his nose, “I am pretty annoying from time to time, aren’t I?”

“oh boy, you have no idea.”

“wow. am I imagining things or does everyone feel like you’re in a mood to constantly attack me tonight?”, he hugs you tighter if possible, shrugging, “my fault for loving you so much, I guess.”

“well, I am very lovable.”

“...oh boy, you have no idea.”

[chuuyrr]

GORGEOUS — NAKAHARA CHUUYA

⊹ CW(s): f! reader, famous! singer! reader, strangers to lovers, crushing (you fall first but he falls harder), heavy references to taylor swift and her reputation album, 3.9k words

⊹ SYNOPSIS: in which you write your crush a song, and he finds out

inspired by: gorgeous by taylor swift !

applause and cheers flood your ears as you stand before the stage, a smile on your red-painted lips, albeit a little breathless as you bring the microphone to your lips, ready to deliver your speech and express thanks for the award bestowed upon you.

what began as a passion for music and songwriting has grown into stardom, as evidenced by the best female musician award you were now receiving on stage, surrounded by other artists in the business and, most importantly, your fans.

just as you were ready to begin when another music artist, much older than you, interrupted you. you stood there perplexed, but then the much older and taller artist grins at you, almost darkly and mockingly.

"yo, [name]!" he exclaims into your microphone, stealing as he addresses you with such familiarity, "i'm really happy for you. i'mma let you finish, but, she has won the best video award of all times!" he exclaims, gesturing at the other female music artist sitting on the sides, but she looks just as perplexed as you.

"one of the best videos of all time, i tell you!" he says into the microphone again, facing the crowd as if rubbing salt in your open wound, then shoveling the microphone back to you as if nothing happened.

in any case, the sudden interruption of the said male performer stunned the entire stage and audience. as you move about the stage, you find yourself uncomfortably laughing and unsure what to do.

the audience suddenly begins to yell "boos!" instead of clapping and cheers, and your hands shake so much that you nearly drop the trophy in your grasp. the shame seeps deep into your flesh, and the fact that cameras were flashing everywhere and this awarding was also being done live didn't help.

you couldn't find your voice, and the stage appears to be tilting as your eyesight blurs.

your great moment, your glory, vanished in an instant.

your reputation.

as you hold the glass in your hand, you sigh and tap the rim before giving it a quick, delicate spin, allowing the ice to clink against the glass before you drink the burgundy liquid, letting the addictive yet mild taste of fermented grapes strike your tongue and throat.

you twirl the glass in your palm one more as you recall the incident that occurred during your awarding. you recall the dazzling lights of cameras, the gasps and shouts from the audience, and what's more, that very artist who humiliated even stated that you owed him something sensual for making you famous.

a smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head and look at the music playing in the pub. it served as a gentle reminder that this was your current situation.

even if you remember it like it was yesterday, it has been a while since then. customers at the bar are singing along to the fairly spiteful yet powerful tune and lyrics of your song, enjoying the piano and beat.

"but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of time. honey, i rose up from the dead, i do it all the time. i got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined—i check it once, then i check it twice, oh!" the crowd of the bar sings, jumping up and about with their drinks in hand.

"look what you made do! look what you just made me do!" they continue to sing the lyrics, some even dancing to the choreography while others were just cheering and such.

your little revenge song appears to have polarized music critics, with some praising your new direction and hailing it as a fierce comeback, while others were disappointed with your change of style from your usual romance-esque and heartbreak songs to a dark electroclash and dance-pop, as well as the hidden message that underpins it.

"huh, that was a nice build-up to a crescendo build in the pre-chorus from the sparse verses," a voice next to you comments.

you blink, your eyes widening and your heart trembling slightly.

shit. did you got recognized already?

you slowly turn your head, and there stands a red-brunet with his hair framing his face and a black fedora on top of his head. he's dressed in a white button-up shirt underneath a gray vest, a black choker, a black ribbon bolo tie kept together with a little silver clasp, an open black cropped jacket with sleeves pulled up at the elbows, black slacks, a black belt dropping off his right hip, and black low-arch shoes.

you can feel your heart pounding. this man appears to be a big deal, possibly like you? was he a music critic, perhaps? you thought you heard him say something about your song, “look what you made me do”, playing in the background, but you couldn't be sure.

but there was something oddly appealing about this man, and you found yourself glancing at his face rather than his suit, and…

ba.. dump..

you feel the blood rush into your cheeks and your heart skip a beat when you notice he has beautiful blue eyes that remind you of the ocean.

your gaze ultimately settles on the creases of his face, from his brows to his nose and all the way to his lips. he is so gorgeous that you find it difficult to swallow the lump growing in your throat, your words becoming tangled in your tangle of thoughts and feelings.

for a brief moment, you've forgotten what you were drinking and thinking about because he—this stranger—has taken over everything in your mind.

when he finally turns to you, allowing you to be face-to-face with him as he sits on the cushioned stool next to you, you shift in your seat, becoming nervous once more.

"are you okay?" he says, and you notice him watching at you carefully, but with some concern, as he notices your flushed cheeks and how you appeared to be a little shaken in your seat.

"wha—?" you murmur out, blinking in confusion.

he blinks back before narrowing his eyes slightly, a look of uncertainty on his face, yet the way he does it is igniting feelings inside your chest right now.

"i asked if you were okay. is everything okay, miss?" he asks again, and this time a chuckle escapes his lips.

"o-oh, yeah. i’m fine, no worries," you exhale, a sheepish smile on your face as you manage a brief fit of laughter. you were still in awe of this man.

you assumed he was a music critic or a businessman wanting to interview you or get you into a deal for collaborations, but from the way he speaks and addresses you, he appears to be neither.

what's more unexpected is that he doesn't seem to even recognize you.

you were already expecting him to start bombarding you the instant he laid eyes on you and sat next to you, but it was something you didn't mind at all. it was a strange feeling for you, yet it was reassuring in some ways.

being famous always meant having eyes and cameras trained on you at all times, which you acknowledge was a touch stifling. you couldn't really blame yourself because you've made quite a name and reputation for yourself with the songs you've composed since you were a child.

you gently sit back, more calm now that he doesn't appear to recognize you, and order another glass of wine from the bartender, who kindly pours you some from the bottle.

"hey, is that a pinot noir?" you hear him speak again, commenting on the beverage you got.

you turn back to face him, "yeah, it is. why?"

"that's a great wine to have by itself," he explains, chuckling softly.

"you seem to know a lot about wine," you smile at him before taking a sip of your drink, welcoming the taste of the wine in your taste buds once more.

"and you seem to have a good eye," he says, smiling. at least, that's how you perceive it. the sort that you'd see from your fans, not the ones that reminded you of bad music critiques and certain people in your life.

he turns to the bartender to order himself a drink, which you see sends a little surprise from the bartender as you hear the bartender fumbling over when he orders a wine called petrus, oblivious of how ridiculously pricey it was.

"you have a problem with me ordering petrus? hah?" he asks, arching his brow at the bartender, and you find yourself giggling at the sound of his tone.

something about the way he spoke when he was agitated, the subtle growl in his voice, was sending you.

"oi, what's so funny?" huffs the red-brunet, staring at you with a little but not necessarily mean glare.

"nothing," you remark between laughter as you sipped your pinot noir, "you just sound like a cute but angry puppy."

"EXCUSE ME?!"

maybe you did drink a little too much that night.

the next thing you know, you're seeing the same man you saw about a week before, and strangely enough, you discovered him in the club doing who knows what.

it was bizarre, truly, but you felt drawn to this man you had no known about. you didn't even know his name when you met him in the bar, so you did what any normal person would have done.

you simply stay far from the crowd admist the blasting lights and music in the dimly lit room because you don't dare to approach him, but little did you know, he was here for a reason, and one thing he wasn't expecting was to see you again the moment he does.

"you again?" he asks as he purposely bumps into you when he walks across the crowd.

"i think i should be saying that to you, mister fancyhat," you say back with a smile tugging on your lips.

his eyes widen a bit at the nickname and for a second he scoffs, "the hell?"

"well, you never gave me your name," you playfully roll your eyes at his reaction, giggling and immediately saying, "i mean it though. your hat is pretty fancy."

"well, thanks," he shrugs his shoulders before asking, "so, would you like a drink?"

"you bet i do," you smile softly with a wink. how could you not accept this man's offer?

"well then," he says, a small grin tugging on his lips, "how does whisky on ice sound this time?”

"sounds good," you remark, shrugging your shoulders, but what he says next takes you by surprise.

"but do me a favor and get behind me real quick, sweetheart," he urges sternly, forcing you to move instinctively to do what he says.

small gasps fill the club at the unexpected ruckus, some even afraid by the red-brunet's sudden cruelty to this stranger, but all settles down when he states that the guy was snapping pictures of you without your permission.

for some reason, even though he was yelling and threatening the paparazzi, the manner he protected and guarded you from them was not alarming to you. it even made your heart skip a beat for some strange reason.

you never imagined that stranger you met could be that interesting. he definitely had a reputation, possibly as big as yours, if not bigger—and you were enamored like a schoolgirl with a big crush.

could he possibly be a spy? or even a mafioso? the possibilities were endless. you had no idea what it could be, but it gave you a rush of thrill and excitement. he was so cool.

"hey, um," you manage to say, blinking out of your sight as chuuya scoffs at the person taking pictures without your permission—you didn't know how to explain to him that the guy he had just nearly beaten up was your paparazzi, but you were grateful.

"what? you okay? that guy was following you, ever since i saw you in here, actually," chuuya adds, pulling you by the wrist to take you somewhere secure in the club, unaware that he was also there for another reason involving his line of work.

"yeah, i'm fine," you admit with a sheepish smile, "more than fine, actually. let's just drink.”

chuuya sighs and scoffs a little, but smiles at you, "just try not to get drunk and make fun of me like last time, okay?"

you can't help but quietly giggle as you recall getting drunk on your wine the last time you met in person at the pub. to be honest, the growl of his voice and the way he says his r's as he becomes irritated at the bartender's answer to his request for a petrus tickles your brain in a hilarious manner.

"i'll try not to then, but no promises~"

"you better not damn it."

from the moment you met chuuya a spark ignited in your very heart. as you spent more time together in secret, the ember grew into a flame, fueled by shared laughter and late-night conversations.

it was in those moments that you discovered the layers beneath chuuya's tough exterior, the vulnerabilities that made him undeniably human.

one evening, inspired by the depth of your emotions, you found yourself sitting with a guitar in hand, fingers strumming gently. the lyrics flowed like a river. each word echoed with sincerity, a testament to the connection you had forged. you wove a tapestry of emotions into the song, from the subtle nuances of his laughter to the way his eyes held the oceans of stories.

lyrics always came to you naturally the minute you felt inspired to write a song, but this time was different.

instead of simply focusing on your reputation, past painful experiences, those who had wronged you, and even past lovers who now serve only as heartbreak and lessons, this time it was all about him.

you found the sweet whisperings of love gently tugging at the strings of you heart. as you navigated the complexities of your emotions, you stumble upon a connection that felt like destiny—a love story in the making.

with pen in hand and heart wide open, you pour your emotions onto the blank pages, each word a declaration of the feelings blossoming within. the verses were a canvas painted with shared moments, laughter echoing in the lyrics, and the subtle nuances of chuuya's essence woven into the melody.

as the melody and chords resonated with the rhythm of your emotions, you realize that in writing a love song for chuuya, you were not just creating another song; you were navigating the path to love once more.

and each lyric became a stepping stone, leading you towards a renewed understanding of affection and the beauty of opening one's heart to another, and it was a celebration of the love that had rekindled within you after everything.

late into the night, you penned the final verses, pouring my feelings onto paper. the melody became a vessel for the unspoken, a silent confession wrapped in the chords of a heartfelt song of bubblegum pop.

it was a labor of love mirroring the evolution of your feelings for chuuya, and as the last notes faded away, you knew you had given voice to the emotions that had taken root in your heart.

chuuya was in his office at the port mafia headquarters, having completed his report for the boss.

he was merely looking out his office window with a glass of wine in hand, a neutral and albeit weary expression on his face, letting out a tired sigh as the radio playing from his desk said the following words just before a new song came on,

"here we have next is a new single from the one and only, [surname] [name], entitled gorgeous!"

chuuya's eyes widen as he hears your very name on the radio. he may have only recently learned your name, but he remembers it vividly, as the song begins.

there was no doubt that was you and your voice singing on the radio, and this song doesn't simply tell about someone who is in love with a new love interest in a promiscuous manner in an attempt to attract the attention of a prospective lover.

“ocean blue eyes, looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die—you're so gorgeous! i can't say anything to your face.”

chuuya stands in stunned silence as the melody filled the atmosphere when the bridge comes in. the song was a heartfelt composition, capturing every nuance of his personality and the shared moments between you two.

“you make me so happy, it turns back to sad, there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have. you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad. you make me so happy, it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and, guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone.. unless you wanna come along?”

the drum beats, synthesizers, and the gentle cadence of your voice resonated with emotion filled the air. it took chuuya a moment to register that the words were meant for him, a love letter crafted in the form of a song.

as more of the lyrics unfolded, he felt the weight of your affection settle in his chest, each note a testament to the depth of your feelings. it was a revelation that left him breathless, realizing that someone had taken the time to compose a symphony of emotions just for him.

the lyrics danced between vulnerability and strength, capturing the essence of your connection. in that moment, chuuya understood the magnitude of your love, and a warmth enveloped him.

chuuya feels his face grow hot, only because of he was too oblivious for a mafioso to not recognize you, to not realize he had been speaking to a famous artist like you out in the open just like that, thinking you were just some beautiful girl in the bar and club he'd go to. no, you were more than that.

and now, going back to it, it makes sense as to why he would constantly find people trying to take pictures of you, as to why you would seem quite tense at times, or even why you would keep staring at him.

"fuck," chuuya curses to himself, "oh, fuck."

the final chords of the song lingered in the air, not long after, and without hesitation, he reached for his phone, fingers tapping with urgency as he dialed your number.

the phone rang, each tone echoing his anticipation. when you answered, he could hear the warmth in your voice, a familiar timbre that matched the melody he had just experienced.

"was that... you?" he asks, his voice a mixture of awe and genuine curiosity.

there was silence for a moment, before you answer, "so you heard it on the radio." you says softly in the call.

as you confirmed it was indeed your creation, chuuya couldn't help but smile, a rare and genuine expression breaking across his face. the connection between you two deepened with every word, the song serving as a bridge that brought your emotions to the forefront.

in that moment, over the phone lines, chuuya felt a profound connection, grateful for the beautiful revelation you had shared with him.

the warmth in his voice betrayed a mix of emotions as he spoke, "it was... incredible. you wrote that for me, sweetheart?"

there was a brief pause, filled only by the static hum of the phone line, before he continued, "i never knew. i... i don't know what to say, but i had to hear your voice, to tell you that it meant everything."

a playful chuckle escaped your lips as you tease him, "took you long enough to connect the dots, didn't it? turns out you've been with a famous artist all along." there was even a lighthearted tone to your words, a mixture of amusement and affection.

chuuya's response was a hearty laugh on the other end, a sound that resonated with genuine delight.

"well, i guess i’m not the fastest at catching on," he admits, the hint of self-awareness in his voice. but then, a sincerity washed over his words as he continued, "but damn, you just made me fall harder for you, sweetheart."

the exchange of laughter and genuine emotions continued, bridging the gap between the revelation of your identity and the newfound depth of your connection. the melody of your shared feelings played on, a harmony that echoed between two hearts that had finally found each other.

excitement radiated through the phone as chuuya declares, "enough of phone calls, i need to see you right now."

there was now a newfound sense of urgency in his voice, a genuine desire to bridge the physical distance that remained between you two at this moment, "where are you right now?"

you share your location without any hesitation, without waiting for another response, he swiftly made his way.

as chuuya reaches the familiar spot, his eyes scanned the surroundings eagerly, searching for the person behind the melody that had woven its way into his heart.

and then, there you were, standing under the soft glow of a streetlamp, a smile playing on your lips as you locked eyes with chuuya.

the world seemed to fade away as he closed the distance between you, the anticipation building with each step. without a word, chuuya pulls you into a tight embrace, savoring the reality of your presence after the emotional journey of hearing your song on the radio in his office.

in that moment, the bustling world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a shared understanding and newfound depth of affection.

chuuya whispers in your ear, "i needed to see you, to feel this. no more hiding behind melodies and phone calls, damn it. just you and me, together."

his arms held you in a comforting embrace as the world around you embraced the quietude of the night. the streetlamp cast a gentle glow on both of you, and the soft hum of the city formed a distant backdrop to the shared moment.

breaking the silence, chuuya gazes into your eyes, a mixture of gratitude and genuine emotion reflected in his intense gaze. "i can't believe i've been so blind to what was right in front of me. how could i have not known who you were, and that song.."

you smile softly, a tender acknowledgment of the connection that had finally blossomed between you two, "i meant every word, chuuya. you have no idea how much i want you."

he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch a gentle reassurance. "well, i'm done letting things slip through my fingers. i want this, with you," his breathy words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a promise.

and so, beneath the canvas of the night sky, chuuya's lips met yours in a gentle, yet fervent kiss. it was a collision of emotions, a fusion of longing and realization.

as you melt into the kiss, the embrace held a promise of a beginning, a tender affirmation that echoed louder than any song you've written before, and the melody of your hearts played the sweetest tune, and the night whispered secrets of a love that had finally found its voice.

⊹ a.n.: thank god my finals is finally over because i finally got to finish writing this !! *literally cries* i also think i went all out for this one too because it ended up reaching 3.9k words, which is crazy. oh, and to the anon that requested this, i hope you enjoyed reading this one, in fact, all of you who made it this far—i love you and thanks for reading (honestly felt like i wrote a bit too much for this fic but oh well lol) <3

[pyroy3]

Compiling additional proof against Wilbur into one, easy to understand list.

I'm making a simple list that anyone can refer to when faced with doubts about Shelby's and other victims claims. I don't know if this will reach the right audience, or reach anyone at all, but i'd like to get it off my chest.

Why do I care so much? Because i've followed Wilbur since his day on the Jacksucksatlife channel. He had a great influence over me as a teenager, and it sucks that he was an asshole all along. I want to see him fail, that's all.

Main points are all in Shelby, Nikki, Minx and other creators' videos on him. These are just small details that are easily missed.

Wilbur being abusive towards his friends

The first video in particular really highlights the amount of power that Wilbur holds. "Tell them about how awful I am to you" seems like a dangerous thing to say as someone who is actually abusive, but it's likely that he knows he can get away with it. He doesn't expect anyone to call him out on his behaviour.

I think she has also mentioned the biting a few other times. This is pretty obvious proof that the biting was happening, and atleast got to the point of causing bruises.

A clip talking about how Wilbur threw Niki because she playfully said she was big and strong. His quick sentence "you were saying you were stronger than-" could either be him misremembering, deciding to ignore that detail, or literally saying that he interpreted her actions as claiming to be stronger than him. He says it was a "consensual throwing" but we already know how terrible he is with consent. TLDW: Niki said she was big and strong so Wilbur threw her "to assert dominance" (and show that he was stronger than her).

In Tommy's disneyland vlog, there is a short clip where Tommy playfully unties Wilbur's shoelaces and gets his hand stomped on. Thing like these flew under the radar because of their brotherly bond. You'd expect two young brothers to react like this, but not a grown man and his teenage friend. Tommy tells him that his finger got cut, and instead of apologizing, Wilbur says it was because Tommy was gonna untie his shoelaces. He essentially says that Tommy had it coming, that it was his fault he got hurt.

The biting behaviour wasn't exclusive to romantic partners. This is a clip of him biting Tommy's hand "for content", despite Tommy repeatedly shouting no. The biting isn't bad here, but it once again proves that this was something he genuinely did.

The story starts at 0:38. Here, Wilbur tells the story of how he helped Techno pick apples by gently throwing them so Techno could put them in the basket. Techno says that Wilbur is very bad at throwing. In response, Wilbur says that he threw an apple as hard as he could, aiming for his stomach. Instead, he accidentally hit the shoulder that his surgery was on. Anyone who's been hit in the stomach should know how painful it is. If Wilbur were to throw an apple has hard as he could at his stomach, it would seriously hurt. But he laughs it off. Wilbur once again claims that the person he hurt deserved it, because techno made fun of his throwing ability. I've heard that Techno's dad yelled at Wilbur for doing it, but even then, he still laughs about the story.

Wilbur's music and separating it from the artist

It's completely natural for a musician with a history of bad mental health to blame himself in his music. One of Wilbur's biggest inspirations, Crywank, have lots of songs about being a bad person. A symptom of depression is to believe you're a bad person. But as far as we know, Wilbur's music actually told the truth.

I can't find the tweet, but we also know that one of wilburs old friends(?) came out with the info that Lovejoy's song "concrete" was based on their experience, and the song explains Wilbur's neglectful behaviour.

You should know what Lovejoy's music is about. A lot of it is based on toxic relationships, being cheated on, being abused. It is a complete mockery of the people that he hurt. "Call me what you like" is clearly about being in an abusive relationship where his partner takes advantage of him and cheats on him. She forces him to "bump his head into every doorway she sees suitable for them to go through". Not that he knows what the song he wrote is about though, since he couldn't recall a single thing about the song during the genius interview. Yes, he was high, but he may as well had someone ghostwrite it for him.

Singing "you claim your ex-boyfriend's a policeman, I say you need better standards" in the song Perfume is crazy when his standards are allowing abuse to happen.

When listening to Scum, you repeatedly hear him admitting to being scum and waste. Concrete is about how he's a piece of shit. Consequences should remind you of the actual consequences of his actions. I already explained what's wrong with "your sister was right". His parody songs are direct reflections of his real personality.

However, if you still want to listen to him - spotify has a feature where you can put local files into your playlists. If you have his music downloaded, you can listen to it on spotify without giving him money or views. Just saying.

Why he can get away with it

Look at him. He is an attractive white man in the UK, And pretty privilege is a thing, no matter how you look at it. He's popular and has gotten empathy from impressionable teenagers on the internet. A lot of people have put him on a pedestal after he showed support for the LGBT+ community and BLM, singing about being against capitalism. People feel bad for him because of his history with mental health problems. They excuse his actions because he was depressed during his relationships. He also has a pattern of exclusively targeting those weaker than him. Tiny women who he can pin down, throw or bite to show he's stronger than, and teenager Tommy who believed they had a brother dynamic. You will also notice that the only people who have shared their experience with him have been women who didn’t feel strong enough to fight back against him. He is a manipulator through and through.

This is not all the proof there is

If you need more convincing, watch other creator's videos on the subject. Shelby, Niki, Minx, Alicenyannyan. There are also more small things that he has done that add up, either violent behaviour, yelling, or ignoring people's boundaries. You will also This man is undeniably abusive.

Thank you to anyone who got this far, I hope someone will get use out of it. I'm happy to finally get what I wanted to say out there.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Three

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Ah this took ages to write but I actually really loved it- finally they meet!! Hopefully I got a few things about Detroit right too but I don't live there so lemme know if not! Also I appreciate all the love the last two parts have gotten, means a lot!

Warnings: Some heavier topics surrounding a rough childhood and abuse of substances.

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

It was far too early to be up. Especially after the night I’d just had, tossing and turning until I’d eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. Something I hadn’t quite anticipated after my call with Em, but sleep had seemed near enough impossible once I’d hung up. No real reason as to why, simply that my mind had gone from a dull sluggish buzz to over-fucking-load in a mere matter of seconds.

Thankfully I had a flight to catch which meant that, even though I looked like my mum after another week long bender, I would be able to catch a little sleep before landing in Detroit. 

Detroit. That was the singular thought my tired mind kept pausing on. Stupidly, it felt just like yesterday that Marshall had first bridged that gap between us and phoned me, only it had been weeks since then, during which the most unexpected friendship had blossomed. He’d called again that next day and the timezones separating us had been made all that more obvious, him having not long dropped his daughter off at school whilst I’d been returning from lunch. He never really had given me the real reason as to why he’d gone and gotten in touch again so quickly, only that he’d wanted to double check that I was still down to fly out and work on a song or two. 

It hadn’t phased me. Neither had the next few calls that had followed, nor the texts that I’d found myself composing to him at odd hours of the day. 

We’d spoken about music at first: “Who inspires you?” He’d asked me which had led into a ramble. Something I only ever tended to do with those who knew me best, never having really mastered the whole art of social interaction yet, even after the fame. But he’d let me go on, before I’d eventually spun the question back around on him and listened quietly to a passionate speech about the handful of artists that had transported him out of the tiny room he’d grown up in and into something other.

I mentioned my sister after that. Em had heard her shouting at the tele one evening whilst she’d played some game that always seemed to bring out her most profane language and laughed, asking after the roaring gremlin in the background. I’d told him bits and pieces, added to the story in odd quips and mentions over the passing weeks, enough that most wouldn’t quite catch on to what I’d been avoiding, but Lottie had been around more often than not and the man had quickly worked out that she lived with me. He’d never outright asked me the reason as to why, though I liked to think that he was simply waiting for me to tell him, because this thing that we had, it was all about building trust. And Marshall? He was almost as unforgiving with who he gave that out to as I was. 

Soon enough our calls and Facetimes had become a featured part of my day, one I actually looked forward to. But even saying that, I was still shit scared of meeting him properly.

As much as it might humour him for me to admit it, I was a big fan of his. Had been since I’d first heard Guilty Conscience when it had hit the UK charts. I’d been swallowed whole by the rest of his LP, had even nicked a cd copy of it off a stall down at the market, alongside Aquemini, because I’d liked it so much. In truth, one of my earliest memories even featured the man. It was of my uncle bagging tickets to Em’s first real show down in Notting Hill, his girlfriend at the time’s brother having managed to somehow score a couple on a whim. It had been all they’d talked about for weeks on end.

I’d been around long enough now though– having dived headfirst into the industry before dipping a toe in first– that I knew just how meeting your icons wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Still, this felt different to us just bumping into one another at some show or a party. And, who was I kidding– it was entirely different. Impossibly so. I’d said it to him then and I’d reiterate it again, he had been the last person I had ever expected to call.

“Passengers boarding the 09:53 flight to Detroit, Michigan please head to Gate B7.”

I sucked in a deep breath at the overhead announcement, figuring that it really was now or never. Two weeks in a big old house working on music with Eminem, I supposed stranger things had to have happened. So instead of lingering on the inane concept, I popped an anti-sickness tablet and dragged my carry-on over towards the gate. 

…

Truth be told, I much would have preferred not having slept on that flight. God, I was still embarrassed, but even so I couldn’t help the muted giggle that bypassed my lips whilst I waited for my luggage to drift on by. 

I was just thankful that I’d had the foresight to wear a hat and sunnies the entire time. Mostly out of habit, yes, but also so that I could keep this whole Detroit trip hush hush, because Marshall really had gone above and beyond to bring me out here and so I didn’t want to reward him with a swarm of unwanted questions. Not that anyone would even add up the notion of me being here and allude that it was down to him. That was probably the most unlikely headline somebody could conjure up.

But back to the whole Flight from Hell. Well, I had the tendency to sometimes be dramatic so not Hell per se, it had just been humiliating. Being shaken awake only to realise you'd been drooling the entire time and the rest of the passengers had already disembarked was more than a tad bit mortifying, especially when the air steward’s eyes had widened a fraction when I’d tried to sort myself out and wake up. 

I wasn’t entirely sure if he’d recognised me, or if it had just been down to the fact that Marshall had put me in First Class— a matter which I had complained about, justifiably— and that I had one of those faces he couldn’t put a name to. But either way, I hoped he wouldn’t expand too much on it.

I caught sight of my suitcase just as it pushed its way through the heavy black flaps on the end of the conveyor belt and so I slid past a man in a bright green Packers jersey to grab at it. And even I had to wince at the sight of the offending article. In all places, really? I wanted to ask. Wrong fucking move there, mate. 

By the time I finally did make it out of the crowd that had amassed, it had been near enough an hour since I’d landed and so I had a few messages waiting patiently for me.

Messages  The Martian Blacked out GMC parked out front Tap twice on the back window

Then…

Flight ok?

My mouth quirked upwards on its own accord at the quick relay but I was quick to shoot something back.

Messages  Might have passed tf out Woke up and it was just me and the steward there:))) Also tap twice?? Do I look like James Bond to you?

Although I had to Google what the fuck a GMC looked like, I did eventually work my way out of the terminal to spot the sleek SUV sat a way down in the drop off zone. ‘Course he’d have his driver park there, I thought pointlessly to myself as I manoeuvred past a handful of tired faces with a polite smile. Though to him it was probably easier to deal with whatever fine he got plastered with than it would be for me to attempt to find the thing in pickup parking. Not that it would be all that hard, it was huge.

Anyway, by the time I managed to hone in closer on the vehicle I felt my nose scrunch up in slight embarrassment at the thought of having to knock twice, as though I really was some sort of spy or, more than likely, a dodgy dealer. But just as I approached, prepped to knock and give the driver my name, I heard the far side door open and a pair of shoes hit the rough tarmac. 

Jumping back a tad, my head swivelled left to better view the figure who was then rounding the car. My eyes widened at the sight I was met with.

His smirk at my evident shock was ascued by a heavy hood and the brim of a dark cap, but it was there. Stayed there actually, all whilst he easily manoeuvred my luggage from out of my hands and into the boot of his car, whilst I simply stood there stock-still. Eventually, he came to stand before me about an arms length away. I blinked and my gaze skittered over the rest of our surroundings before they finally returned to his tilted head and piercing eyes. His back was turned towards the airport, away from the trio which had since grouped around their suitcases to wait and a handful of people that exited the terminal one or two at a time.

“What, I don’t get no hug?”

The mirthful lilt of his deep voice surprised me and my mouth worked over a plethora of words that couldn’t quite take stage before I was laughing softly into the shoulder of his jacket, his arms coming up to wrap around me. 

It felt oddly surreal to finally meet him, even if I had been so caught off guard by his sudden presence.

In fact, I jolted back at the very thought and thumped his arm, my eyes narrowed even whilst my smile never appeared to falter. “Why are you here?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, arm moving to cradle the offended limb in sly mocking, before he huffed out a low laugh. “No, hello? No, wow, Marshall, I can’t believe you’re really here!”

My mouth gaped at the teasing tone he took on, much like something I’d heard on one of his songs, and then I was laughing too, shaking my head at his antics. “That’s how we’re playing this?” I quirked a brow, but eventually mimicked, “Wow, Marshall. Gee golly, I just can’t believe that you’re really here!”

Marshall dipped his chin in supposed approval, gentle eyes roaming over my face in a way similar to what I must have done when he’d first arrived. I wondered briefly what he saw but hastily brushed the thought aside. “The American accent still sucks, by the way.” He acknowledged just as he stepped forward to open the passenger side door, surprising me yet again as he slipped by me, “So if you’re goin’ into acting, take note.”

My glare was mocking at best, lacking any real heat as he waited for me to climb inside, it was only once I’d glanced back at him with a thankful smile that he moved to shut the door. I took in a sharp lungful of air at the quiet that then engulfed the car and watched him move around the front of the hood. He was achingly familiar and yet not at the same time. And it was such a strange thought to latch onto that I took the initiative to just take things as they came over the next few weeks, which turned out to work in my favour when he joined me in the car and the engine revved.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” I found myself saying as he slowly peeled his way out of the drop off bay. “Thought you said you’d have someone come get me.”

Em simply shook his head whilst I observed how his hands slid around the wheel with an effortless ease. “I said there’d be a car.”

My eyes widened to accentuate my point. “Exactly! There’d be a car! So I just figured a cab or something.”

His eyes flickered over towards me just as we came to a stop at the busy intersection outside the airport, then pulled away to look left and right again. “Well, you should stop figuring then.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll I gifted him, even as I laughed heartily to myself and took in the comfort of privacy the car offered, as opposed to the flight I’d just been stuck on. It was then, whilst we merged onto the highway and followed into the flow of traffic, that I got the chance to really look at him. 

I was still attempting to get over my evident shock, having expected to meet him much later on, once I’d been dropped off at the house or maybe even a while after that. But it was nice to know that he’d driven all the way here to merely pick me up when he could have just as easily sent someone to do it for him. 

Marshall looked about the same as he had when we’d first phoned in truth, only it was easier now to see all of the minute details he offered the world, those tiny imperfections. 

The slight dip in his chin was much more prominent now what with the way his lips had since pursed in concentration. The skin there was smooth, as though not much time had passed since it had last been seen to by a razor, and it wrinkled only around his eyes when they narrowed into focus. His nose was pointed, whilst simultaneously being both strong and soft. He had eyelashes that I could only envy, dark and long, and freckles light enough to dot both sides of his face.

He must have felt my gaze on him though because he soon chanced a glance back at me with a single raised brow. My eyes slid away from his profile and instead I opted to gesture my chin out towards the tinted windows that encased us. “These legal?” I had wondered, but mostly asked just to steer his mind away from me having been caught staring.

With a short snort, his brow dropped and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What d’you think?”

I chuckled in retort, having expected that, and then looked away again, out towards the grassy verge that separated the long stretch of road from small grey buildings that littered both sides in the distance. It was my first time in Detroit and I wanted to make the most of it, remember every part.

It was quiet for a while after that, Em having switched on the radio at some point after asking after my flight, the two of us more than content to just let the silence linger around the hum of something so familiar, music.

He pointed things out to me here and there on the journey, nothing of real importance but dropping comments that would either make me hum or laugh loudly. He was a funny fucker even when he didn’t seem to be trying, I figured that was what I liked best about him. 

We drove through Downtown Detroit at one point and I listened intently when he spoke about Ford Field, the home of his favoured Lions, and again when we stopped at a traffic light and he gestured over towards where the Fox Theatre sat. Even during the daylight it drew the eye.

Once we’d rolled away from the inner city and its skyscrapers though I felt myself relax further, pleased by the vast amount of green that I started to see. Most of the time I’d spent in The States often left me confined to the major cities, to their bustling crowds and hectic commutes, mostly because I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, what with venues and tours, interviews and recording sessions. So this would probably be the first time I’d get to see a slice of the country’s suburbs and it wasn’t all too different from what you’d typically see back home. Not exact sure, but similar in a lot of circumstances. 

It took me a while to realise that Em had been nodding his head along to the radio, following the beat in an exact tempo. The sight had me hiding my grin behind my sleeve but the move captured his attention and he must have seen the growing joy my glazed eyes gave away to when he peered over at me because his forehead furrowed. “What?”

Instantly I shook my head, “Nothing.”

His eyes darted out towards the road, shifting gears before the back of his hand shot out to tap the side of my knee. “What?” He prodded again and I was startled by the easy nature of his touch, remembering then that it was possible now that we weren’t stuck between screens.

I snorted softly, dropping my arm seeing as he’d already caught on to the grin. “Just strange, is all. Being here.”

I watched closely as he gave a slow blink and waited, propping my arm up against the window whilst slumping a little in my seat.

“Good weird, or bad?”

The answer had to have been obvious and yet, I still answered him, “The good kind.”

“Good.” He hummed and my grin softened at his own small smile. It remained there for most of the drive. 

I didn’t know what I had expected to see once we finally did pull up to the house, but it didn’t fail to live up to its owner's accomplishments. It was beautiful, big yes, but beautiful too. Terracotta in colour and with a long gravel driveway. He had trees and flowers around the fenced gate to further keep out any prying eyes, but they were vivid and lush. Pretty to admire. 

Marshall turned towards me once we’d slowed to a stop and I smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt before he huffed a chuckle, turning off the engine and moving to do the same. The door shut behind me once I’d jumped out and I let myself breathe in the change of air. Having been cooped up in the Big Apple for the last few days it was refreshing to be able to actually enjoy it and not just think about all of the heavy city fumes. 

I was quick to snap out of it though when I heard the slight beep that sounded from the back of the car when the boot reopened. “Hey, I can get that.”

Marshall's eyes cut over towards my approaching figure. “So can I.” He tugged the heavy suitcase out with one hand, “See?”

“Mature, Mathers.” I retorted, leaning past him to at least grab my carry on, but he was there too, our hands clutched the handle at the same time, his encasing mine. “I can get it.” I repeated, turning slightly in my stance to lift my brows up at him. 

He was close, thigh pressing into the ledge of the boot whilst his other hand still held onto the door stationed above our heads. “You’re my guest.”

His tone was gruff, low enough for only me to have heard, even though there wasn’t anyone else mulling about. My eyes shifted, flickering back and forth between his own. “Then let your guest get their way.” 

He blew out an amused breath, the weight of it fanned my face and had a few loose strands of hair fluttering. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”

I shifted and his knee knocked against mine. “Here’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I quipped with a growing smile.

There was the slightest shake of his head, his mouth twitched, and then he was leaning in closer. I held my breath. Waiting. For God knows what, when—

He snatched the bag out from under my hand.

“Marshall!” It was almost indignant the yell I made, shocked by the sly move he’d played and the fact that he’d already jumped back to make his way towards the front door before I could even properly react. I heard his bright laughter echo back to mock me.

“Too slow.” Marshall called in turn, shrugging as he shot a smug look over his shoulder. “Lock her up for me?”

The tap he then gave his right trouser pocket evidently had me frowning and so I looked down on impulse, only to spot a set of keys dangling from the belt loop on my jeans. Baffled, my head snapped upwards, just in time to see him laugh and wheel my suitcase inside.

I took a deep breath, then let it go.

“Such a prick.” I muttered to myself, though not unkindly, as I jumped up to grab the boot door and slam it shut, using the fob to then lock the monster truck up.

By the time I made it up the rest of the drive and through the front door I was a little less peeved about the whole thing, which was mostly down to me having been a little humoured by his methods of undermining.

“You treat all your supposed guests like this?” I blew out.

Marshall only greeted my entry with a snort. “Uhuh, that initiation we talked about? Starts here.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped further into the entryway to observe, making the effort not to gape at the sheer size of it. Because in truth, he could’ve easily fit a half a dozen Harleys in the space between the door and the stairs.

“Where do we start the sacrifice then? Can’t imagine anyone would be all too happy about staining these pretty floors.” My toe skimmed a stark white tile as I said it, peering over at him through my lashes whilst I thought back to an earlier conversation we’d had and the fact that he’d actually remembered. 

“Basement, baby!” 

He used the term in ridicule, to accentuate the gaiety in the back and forth we’d just begun. His hands shot out wide in a gesticulative fashion and so I used the moment to grab at the handle of my suitcase he’d left by the door, thankful that the thing had wheels. I grinned at the small victory.

“You were saying?” I dragged out around a pleased smile.

Marshall shook his head at me, like he actually couldn’t believe I’d attempted to one up him— and managed it. Though he thankfully left it alone. Still, that was probably only due to the fact that he then said, “Want a tour?”

And who was I to deny?

“If you don’t want me getting lost, then yes please.”

He scoffed, but wore the ghost of a smile as he pushed further into the house, leading me this way and that until we finally wandered up another set of stairs onto the second floor.

“Bedrooms are there.” Marshall pointed out to me, hands stretched towards both the halls that lined either side of the staircase. “Mine’s just down here, Z’s too.” He explained further, gesturing towards the two doors on the far right side, Rosie’s bore a bright sign with her name and I was humoured to see that the usual silver handle had been switched out in favour of a neon pink.

He caught my slight smile at the sight of the door and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Quit it.”

I snorted softly, pursing my lips to dampen the grin I wore. “I didn’t say anything! But I do love it.” Honestly it was too cute seeing him all mushy like that, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make something like a door handle special for his daughter was endearing.

Marshall grunted out a hum, then took a deliberate step over toward a room a little closer, the door had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a room that could have resembled a hotel room had it not been for the much warmer sense of comfort it offered. I reckoned it was down to the little souvenirs and decorative pieces that had been jotted around the place, like the snowglobe of Big Ben and a little British flag, as well as the articles of clothing which had been laid out on the bed.

My attention caught on those first and I glanced back at Em, who was now leaning against the doorframe, to ask a silent question. The man shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the wood and suddenly looked a tad bit sheepish, “Rosie’s idea. Wanted to give you something, like, so you’d feel welcome or some shit.”

I let my fingers brush over the pyjama’s the little girl must have picked out. They were soft and dotted with tiny woodland creatures, bunnies and berries. My heart ached at the lovely gesture, never really having had anyone do something like this for me, let alone someone so small and sweet who had gone out of their way to make me feel welcomed of all things.

“You lucked out with her.” I murmured  and was granted a doting smile when I peered back up at the girl’s father.

“She’s aight.” Marshall reasoned, pushing out a small breath as he took a step further into the bedroom. “Room okay then?”

Smiling, almost a little stupidly, I chuckled in disbelief and took another peer around the room. “It’s perfect, thank you again for this.”

He rolled his eyes at me and made a gah sound, “Say thanks again and I’ll take you to the nearest motel.”

My eyes widened just as my jaw dropped, “A motel, really? Wow, and here I thought we were truly bonding.”

“You know what they say, don’t assume.”

Narrowing my stare into something a bit more intense I waited for him to crack, but he must have been half-alien or something because the man held his own much longer than I did. “You’re such a dick.” I eventually chuckled, shaking my head.

“Get used to it,” He retorted and stepped away to wheel my suitcase further into the room, placing my bag down on the end of the plush bedspread. “You tired? Figured we could grab something to eat once Z’s home if you’re down.” 

It was something I was used to, the whole jumping back and forth between serious and teasing, but I still found it sweet how he would tend to ask after me, simply to make sure that everything was still good.

I hummed in reply and took one last look at the pyjamas I'd been gifted. “I’m good, slept on the flight–”

“And drooled all over them First Class seats.” He butted in, earning himself a short glare which only proved to make him grin. 

I should have known to have kept that shit to myself, fucker would probably lord it over my head forever.

“Uhuh, hilarious.” I deadpanned before continuing on like he hadn’t interrupted, “What’re you thinking of getting?”

The question went unanswered because it was then that the front door sounded, creaking open on its heavy hinges before it rattled closed. I jumped at the unexpected noise whilst Em simply glanced back over his shoulder, “That’ll be her.” He commented, confusing me for a second when he raised his hand and started a countdown on his fingers, “3, 2, 1–”

“Dad!”

I snorted at the precise timing, Marshall already moving towards the door at the call of his name and so I went to follow. It was just as we made it back out onto the hallway’s landing that he paused, “I can keep her occupied for a while if you wanna settle in, take a nap or something.”

It was an offer and a half from any parent to attempt to keep their kid at bay, I mean I’d done it a fair few times with an excitable Lottie over the years, but I waved it off, smiling when the girl’s voice called out again. “Dad?”

Marshall leaned in closer, hand clutching the bannister, and lowered his voice whilst his face got all serious, “Get out whilst you still can.”

Huffing out a mirthful breath, I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “I’m good, I'm actually excited to meet her.”

He paused and observed me for a moment, as though he was trying to see the truth behind that sentiment, which made me unsure. But I hoped he did find the sincerity in my words because it hadn’t been a lie, I was nervous to meet his daughter sure, wanted her to like me and not feel as though I was suddenly imposing on her life, but I had genuinely enjoyed her witty remarks and scathing comments when we had spoken the night before. She reminded me of a little of a younger Lotts. 

Em eventually nodded at me, cheek dimpling ever so in a possible attempt to dampen his reaction, but before I could question it, the man was jogging down the stairs. “Up here, you monster. And what I tell you ‘bout yellin’?”

A familiar face poked its way out of the hall at the bottom of the staircase and the smile that dawned on it was beaming when she spotted her dad. “How are you gonna hear me if I don’t yell?” She replied, squealing when the man swept her up off feet and into a hug, peppering a line of kisses into her hair, “Dad!”

Marshall snorted at the reaction he’d garnered but eventually lowered the girl back down onto her feet, whilst I just stood at the bottom of the stairs watching them with a fond smile. “What?” He said in a put upon voice and ran a hand over the girl’s head, bulging his eyes out wide when Rosie pulled a face. “How was school, kiddo?”

Rosie pushed up onto the balls of her feet before she rocked back, “Good, I ran out to the car quick to get home ‘fore she gets here.”

The smirk the man took on was almost evil and he laughed when he cocked his head out to gesture behind the girl. “Just about managed it.”

A curtain of honey coloured hair swept over her shoulders when the girl twirled around on her heel, eyes widening in sudden surprise to find me standing there. “El!” She called out, a grin breaking across her features before she hurried over to engulf me in a hug too.

Even as surprised as I was by the gesture, I chuckled and lowered myself down to squeeze her back, smiling at Em from over the top of her head. “Hey,” I murmured gently, staying crouched even as we pulled apart, “Thanks for the pjs, they’re probably the best gift I’ve gotten in ages.”

That statement appeared to thrill the girl, who’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights, “I got a matching pair, guessed we could wear them tonight and watch a movie so you’d feel more at home.”

My heart burst at the thought, I was sure of it.

But then Marshall went to speak and I already knew what he’d been prepared to say, so instead of letting him ruin Rosie’s sweet plans, I was quick to jump in, “I’d love that.”

The smile she gave me was award worthy and she turned back to face her dad with that settled. “See, if you had gotten the same ones like I said, you could’ve joined!”

I snorted at the expression that then crossed Em’s face, his head jolting back a tad. 

“You really didn’t get some to match?” I egged the girl on, mouth dropping open in a feigned amount of shock.

We were both met with a disbelieving shake of his head as the man blew out a heavy breath and turned away. “I’ll watch what I want and wear what I want, it’s my house.” He threw back at us as he headed further into the house, murmuring under his breath, “Women.”

Rosie and I shared a conspiratorial grin before we made to follow after him. 

“It’s rude to just dump your friend, Dad.” Rosie commented once we’d wandered into the kitchen to find Em grabbing a couple of bottles out of the fridge, the girl slid onto a stool at the end of the island whilst I bit my cheek to keep from outright laughing.

Her words were met by an unimpressed stare that didn’t appear to phase her as she continued to swing her legs back and forth. The man let the fridge door slip close as he made his way over to join his daughter, handing her a bottle before sliding the other across the counter to me. “You got homework?”

Rosie’s eyes flickered from her dad to me, then back again, “Maybe, but it’s Math.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ nowhere til it’s done.” Marshall told her with a small shrug, even though I’d seen his eyes widen at the thought of having to deal with numbers and sums. “Get changed and we can start on it, okay?”

The girl emitted a soft sigh but ultimately moved to jump down from off the stool, “You any good at Math, El?”

Biting down on my smirk, I ignored Em’s murmured warning of the girl’s name and answered, “Not bad, I might be a little help.”

“Anything’s better than my Dad’s attempts.”

“Yo, I try.” Marshall was all too quick to quip back in retort, his arms now crossed over his chest as he stared his daughter down with a slight frown.

Rosie’s smile was precious, but her eyes told another story. I knew then that she understood exactly how to keep her dad wrapped around her finger. She was a little menace and I already loved it. “I know, Daddy, my teacher said that my English homework was the best she’d read in a while.”

Em actually seemed to take pride in that and so I guessed he’d had a hand in that homework too. His daughter also appeared to take note of the fact that he was pleased because she hurried off then, calling out over her shoulder once more, “Be back in a sec!”

“Yellin’!” Marshall yelled, defeating the whole purpose of his previous argument, before he sighed and gestured me over towards the seat Rosie had just vacated. “See what I have to put up with?”

Scoffing, I moved to take up the stool whilst he picked up a few stray notes lying on the counter and placed a glass that had been left behind at some point into the sink. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait til she’s thirteen and debating the point of riding a dirtbike to and from school with you.”

Em barked out a real laugh at that as he turned his back on the sink to shoot me a look that said ‘Really?’

I heaved a put upon sigh, fingers toying with the water bottle I’d been gifted. 

“That’s not even the worst of it.” I told him as my mouth worked over a smile, “Before I left she asked if she and a few friends could stay at the house alone whilst I was away, because, and I repeat, ‘If there’s six of us then that basically equates to one whole adult’. I’m still genuinely scared that she went through with it even after I said no, keep checking the security cameras to make sure there isn't a herd of teenagers working their way inside.”

He wore an amused smirk but I noticed there were more than a few questions hiding behind his stare. They’d been there for a while now.

“You can ask.” I eventually said, appreciating the atmosphere his home offered, from the warm walls and the pictures that decorated the place, to the odd bits of mess that made the too large house look lived in.

Em worked his tongue into the curve of his cheek and watched me for a moment, before he eventually settled his forearms against the counter and leaned into it. “Kinda figured you took care of her, even before you mentioned that she was your sister.”

My gaze flickered down to the water droplets that clung to my fingertips, the bottle sweating from the change in temperature. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a lot older than her, so we sort of lived through different shit but I went through a lot as a kid, with like my mum and all the issues she had. When I found out that she was pregnant again it was through this woman who used to work with her at the local greengrocers when I was little. I just remembered thinking that I didn’t want that baby going through the same thing I did.”

My mind flashed back to the memory. Thinking of Annie’s wrinkled face and the relentless rain that had only just begun to let up. She had congratulated me.

“I was sixteen, had long since packed my shit up and left, but I’d never had the money to get too far. So I’d still spot her out and about.” I licked at the corner of my mouth, unwilling to meet his eye. “I went to see her after I’d heard, mostly out of anger. Her new boyfriend had moved in and I remember just being thankful for the fact that my brother had a friend that didn’t mind putting him up. She said she wasn’t using, just fags and the like, a cider here and there. Was surprised to see me, though she expected a big song and dance about the new baby.”

I picked at the water bottle’s label.

“When Lotts was actually born, her dad was locked up proper– facing sixteen years for armed robbery. Mum had her in a ward two months early and ended up leaving her there to go visit him. She was a preemie, tiny, too tiny, you know?” I murmured and could still picture her that small. “Mum she came back that same night mostly for a bed to sleep in, but had already found herself a fix. The nurses must have noticed that something was up, they’d asked to run blood tests and shit, but mum wouldn't have it. Would come and go during visiting hours whilst Lotts was in the NICU. I stayed, only leaving when I had a shift to work, and even then I’d come running straight back.”

Marshall just stood there listening and in truth I was thankful that he hadn’t thought to interrupt me to offer words of comfort or probe deeper. Although his eyes were serious when I finally managed to look over at him, listening intently.

I rubbed my lips together before getting on with it, “I moved back in with her when Lottie was finally able to come home. Ended up taking care of the kid when I was still just a kid myself, only so that she didn’t get tossed into care or fucking overdose on whatever shit mum and whoever else left lying around. It was just the two of us for a while, before my brother, Danny, came back. He’d gotten caught up in something with these older lads on the estate and was still at school, so I worked nights down at this pub under the table to keep up with rent and he’d watch over her for a few hours. It was there that I started performing just for extra cash, like on mic nights and stuff.”

Em squinted and for the first time he opened his mouth to contribute something, “That’s where you got found, right?”

I was sure I hadn’t mentioned that in any of our conversations and so I could only guess that he’d done a little bit of digging on me, the thought made me want to laugh but instead I simply smiled. “Yeah, some scout just happened to be passing through.”

He hummed, taking that in.

“But by the time anything really came about, my brother had long since gone off to join the army and Lottie was seven.” I mentioned, eyes jumping back and forth between him and the bottle I still clung to, “I’d always taken care of her, but then I was suddenly needed elsewhere to make these dreams come true, to make money, to give her a better future.” 

I knew that he could relate to that, to the utter struggle and fear I’d faced, terrified it would all fall through and I’d be left with nothing again.

“I didn’t really have a choice about leaving her though so she stayed with a neighbour at first, then her dad’s aunt who was nice enough to pop round sometimes, she was an older frail woman. I managed to actually land something eventually and started work on an album, but even after that the weight of anxiety had settled and I was working so hard just to keep all of these producers' attention.”

I swallowed thickly at the next flashback that had hastily followed. 

“Shit went down while I was over here in The States.” 

I felt sick each time I thought about it, hardly even dared even attempt to bring it up even to those few that knew. Lotts didn’t really remember any of it though, didn’t recall the hospital scare or my frantic need to make sure that she was okay for weeks after it had happened.

“I flew back that night and managed to sort of work things out. Threw a fucking toaster at my mum’s head I was so angry–” I snorted stupidly, “It missed. But after that I couldn’t trust her. She’d lost any sort of love I’d held for her. That was about five years ago now though, so she’s a bit different. Trying, she says. But Lotts stays with me until the very second I can’t help it.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I willed my gaze to meet his and was taken back by the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds like a piece of work.” Marshall eventually commented and it honest to God made me laugh, allowing me to fill that hollow in my heart for a second and be grateful for the ease of it, because I really wasn’t too sure if I’d been about ready to cry at his kitchen table. “But I get it.” He added, “I think it’s great what you did for her, too. She probably won’t realise that til later but you should hear it.”

I glanced away, eyes suddenly stinging and tried to smile. “Yeah, well.” I tittered, wiping the corner of my eye discreetly, “She’s staying with her now and it’s got me on edge.”

Marshall moved around the kitchen island to place a careful hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly before he ended up dragging me into a one armed hug. “You’re tough. Which means she’s gotta be too. I’m sure she’s just doing what kids do and messin’ around with her friends. Remember that’s all I did growing up, anything was better than bein’ in that house.”

A small snort escaped me as we parted, though he stayed near. “Because that’s so reassuring.”

He clucked his tongue and grinned, knocking shoulders with me, “I was a good kid, didn’t do nothin’ bad.”

“Uhuh,” I felt the need to drag out, “The image of an angel, Marshall Mathers.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

“Dollar!”

It seemed we both jumped at the sudden reappearance of Rosie, who came sweeping into the room with a finger pointed at her father and an armful of school supplies. The skin between my brows pinched in confusion before the man beside me answered her, giving me the explanation I needed.

“For what?”

“You swore.” The girl shot back at him and climbed onto the stool beside me to settle her notebook down as well as a few pages of paper and pens. 

Marshall ended huffing, unable to deny that he had and moved towards the cupboard by the large, sliding glass door. 

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop on conversations. Reckon you owe a dollar for that, girlie.” He’d since grabbed a plastic tub and I was honestly surprised by the sparse amount of notes that were hidden inside it. Em must have spotted my surprise though and equated it to what it meant because he spoke again, “It gets emptied every couple a’ weeks and that monster over there gets to choose what we spend it on.”

Rosie perked up at the mention. “Last time I got him to take me fishing.”

“Fishing?” I wondered, blinking at the revelation. I looked back at Marshall and laughed, “I’m sorry but I can’t imagine you in that scenario.”

“Ha ha.” The man said impassively, widening my grin whilst he tugged two dollars out from his back pocket and shovelled them into the jar before he returned it to its rightful place.

“He only caught one.” Rosie piped up, already having written the date in that backwards way the American’s preferred, “It was real cute.”

I raised a brow and shot it Em’s way. “Cute?”

Rosie’s smile was big and bright, “Yeah! He said we had to let it go though ‘cause it was so small.” 

Marshall rolled his eyes and then pointed between the pair of us. “You two keep this whole thing up imma go out to eat by myself. Bunch’a bullies, I swear.”

Rosie and I broke into a fit of giggles at that which only made the man’s expression flatten that much more, he waited for us to get over it before he looked between us and the notebook which had been laid out. “Enjoy Math, I’m gonna go grab a burger.”

“No!” I laughed brightly, spinning on my stool when he started to walk back around the island, “We want food too.”

“Yeah, we’ll start a riot, we're that hungry.” Rosie told him and I couldn’t muffle the rest of my giggles. Marshall merely rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Math, then we can talk food.” He declared, tickling his daughter’s side as he slid in beside her to get a better look at the worksheet she had. His eyes widened. “They got you using letters now too?”

Rosie’s laughter filled the kitchen and I got a first row ticket to watch her and her dad’s light ribbing as we started in on the first question. The sight of it made my heart swell in truth, it was just so easy to see how much love they held for one another.

[jennifercheckapologist]

Bandit Like Me - 00

Synopsis: You meet Ellie at her album release and she offers you her jacket.

Pairing: Rockstar!Ellie x Musician!Reader (Side Abby x Reader)

Warnings: None, really; Ellie's a slut (and southern); Reader's a slut (and southern); Reader isn't explicitly femme or masc, but I'm femme and everything I do is for myself; Eventual Smut; Joel is Super Alive

A/N: I haven't written something with a real plot that wasn't about Jennifer's Body in 5ever ! Also a transphobic radfem reblogged my last fic... terrifying. I would rather not interact with TERFs ever <3

Word Count: 1,252

On TLOU2 and Palestine

Resources

You need air- or at least, that’s what you told Abby before you rushed out onto the back patio, away from all the warm bodies, glitter, and the sounds of the world ending. It’s overwhelming being surrounded by celebrities now after all the years of shitty apartments and college parties. Now, they’re supposed to be your peers… or something like that.

You probably weren’t supposed to be here, on the guest list for one of the biggest parties of the year at Ellie’s absurd mansion- all dressed up to celebrate her. You definitely weren’t supposed to be outside, on her back patio in the cold New York air, watching her strum her guitar to herself.

You know you’re intruding, but you just can’t turn around. Not when Ellie looks so… like that with her signature guitar in her lap and her hair messily piled up on her head. She’s under-dressed in her blue jeans and wife beater. The only sign that she isn’t in the same tax bracket as you is the bright red racer jacket covering her arms. You’d seen that jacket a million times in photos. On-stage, in paparazzi photos, in music videos.

You hadn’t expected her here, outside all alone. Not when all the people worth name-dropping were inside, celebrating the release of her newest album. It seemed she was already working on the next thing. You hadn’t expected to get to speak to her either. She’d been famous since you’d been in high school- you still had her old country songs from long before she was a rockstar saved to your phone.

She must know you’re here- you didn’t make much effort to hide your arrival- but she stays focused. Her eyes are trained on her hand at the neck of the guitar, and she’s got that wrinkle between her brows like she’s doing surgery. The longer you wait, the more awkward you feel.

“Now, what would your daddy say if he saw you right now?” You manage a bit of confidence as you take a few steps toward where she’s seated, legs crossed on the concrete. It feels like a safe enough topic; something you could talk about for a while.

She chuckles, already back to being the impossibly charming star she was back inside. She flirts the same way that she breathes- instinctually, “What if I told you that he taught me everything I know?”

The answer? You wouldn’t be surprised. You’d grown up listening to Joel’s music with your parents, and you could hear bits and pieces of him all over her music. There were touches of him in your own work too. You still idolized him- had nearly choked on your drink when you saw him inside.

“About guitar,” you murmur, already melting into her, “or women?”

“Both, but there was only so much he could tell me about guitar,” she jokes. She finally looks up from her guitar, green eyes intense as she watches you squirm in front of her, “Did he see me leave?”

You shrug in response, your arms wrapped around you as you realize how cold it is. You can feel the goosebumps along your arms, and you’re starting to really regret your outfit choice, “I couldn’t say. He looked pretty relaxed the last time I saw him.”

She starts strumming again, something familiar- you recognize it from one of her first albums. It felt like those albums were a lifetime ago, but you remember listening to her debut when you were still in high school. She was only a couple of years older than you, but it seemed she was speaking right to you. You’d recognize those first tracks any day. Her strumming stopped again when you shivered and breathed into the cold air.

“Take my jacket,” she placed her guitar aside gently and began to remove the expensive leather for you, “Joel’d be pissed if I let you freeze out here, sugar.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” you protest, finally sitting next to her but certainly keeping your distance. You weren’t here to get starstruck and fall hopelessly in love with your seventeen-year-old self’s crush. You were supposed to be getting fresh air. You’d already promised Abby that you wouldn’t get into trouble tonight.

“You could,” she shoved the jacket toward you, “And you should.”

You push her hand back toward her, “Ellie, I know better.”

The smirk on her face doesn’t let up as she drawls, “You’re really hurting my ego here.”

“One second I’m in your jacket, the next I’m in your bed. I know how you are.”

“I’ve heard similar stories about you,” Ellie placed her jacket in front of you and crossed her arms, celebrating her minor victory as you picked it up and used it to cover your legs, “You don’t have to hop in my bed for it, I promise. I’m still a gentleman. Just don’t tell your girlfriend.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s a big fan,” You wink. ‘Fan’ might be a strong word here, but so was ‘girlfriend.’ What you and Abby had was something in between that. You looked good together, and you had fun. You tried not to think too much about Ellie knowing anything about your love life.

She reached for her guitar again with a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You watched as she stood to leave, seemingly pleased with that being the end of your interaction. You stood awkwardly and called her name, folding her jacket over your arm. She only turned back around to you when she reached the door back into her house, “Your jacket?”

And god, you want to push her for how cocky she looks as she turns on her heel to grin at you, “Don’t worry, I’ll take it back once I’ve seen you in it.”

The moment she’s inside, the whole interaction feels fake. The only evidence you have of the moment is the red leather covering your arm, and you feel like a ridiculous teenager as you bring it to your nose to take in her scent. It smells earthy and expensive and now you’re certain you were smart not to put it on. If you had kept bantering with her, surrounded by her scent like this, you would be in trouble.

You stay outside, thinking about the feeling of being with Ellie for a little longer before heading back in to find Abby. She lights up when she sees you, her large arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in like you really do belong to her. She’s warm against you, and when she gives you your personal space back, she has confusion contorting her face as she stares at the leather folded over your arm, “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” you attempt to shrug off the edge in her voice, “I ran into Ellie Williams outside and it was cold so she-”

“She left her own party to sit outside and wait for a pretty girl to need a jacket?” She murmurs into your ear, pulling you back into her. You can already tell she’s preparing to make this a thing.

You frown up at her, “She was working on a song or something. I interrupted her and she was really nice about it.”

“I’m sure she was.”

“Oh, stop it,” you hook your free arm around her neck, “She knew I came with you.”

That makes the corners of her mouth perk up. She presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before responding, “Good.”

Housekeeping: Dividers again by @saradika ; pinterest board that got me here ; As always, I'm a black femme lesbian and that's my truth

[umeji-writes]

I would like to talk about the Music Festival arc - aka my favorite Mairuma arc until now. I love them all tbh, this is just very close to my heart for several reasons. [cw: non-suggestive discussion of s*x; if you are a s*x-repulsed asexual person you are very much welcome to interact, but this may not be the post for you, take care and proceed with caution ♡ edit: I'm uncensoring the words from here onwards thanks to a kind anon's suggestion] To make it short, I love that the main theme of this arc is pleasure, and the desire for it. Honestly, it's very horny - but not in a slimy or creepy way, which is sadly quite rare in my experience. The appreciation for pleasure coming from love (also platonic love) is there in several layers. First, the plot itself, as Lilith cries out her desire to find "a love that burns like fire". She is not satisfied by most pretenders, and especially this frame spoke to me:

Because... Well... It's so true. I am an adult, and I had my share of sexual partners. The expressions people make irl are not always aesthetically pleasing, but who cares! We are told to strive to be always attractive, but in those moments of intimacy it's really not important, not as much as being fully present and enjoying the moment! Then, can we talk about Kalego please?

I mean, Nishi here went all out and didn't even try to hide her fascination for ...discipline:

(and to be fully clear: I am NOT implying there is sexual tension between Kalego and his students, I am only referring to him!!!) When I saw the whip I couldn't believe my eyes. Of course in that context it's not used that way, but it's very much recognizable as an adult tool... But more on this later. Finally, I really like that the Misfits are growing up and finding out new things about themselves. They are characterized as high school students (even if we don't know how old they actually are), which is when humans tend to have their first experiences and explore their sexualities. They are building together this beautiful show full of emotions and desire, and honestly performing with other people is really an amazing feeling (I am a former musician and theater actor - let me tell you, every performance was fire). Look at their faces: from here...

...to here.

They are shocked, but happy! And definitely feeling ...feelings. And here is my main takeaway: I am really, really sad that sex is a taboo topic in our society, and when there's something about sex, it's mostly treated in a very bad way. This includes sex scenes in generic-audience movies, which I tend to dislike... I hate that sex is handled like a dirty and secret thing. I hate that sex is mostly treated as something that has to do with power imbalance and taking advantage of someone else, usually men that "want to do stuff TO" women (nonbinary individuals like myself not found) - and too often not in a hot and consensual way. I hate that social media are becoming more and more sex-hostile, because investors fear these topics, and use children as a shield to justify limiting contents for adults as well. I hate that sexual education is mainly reserved for talking about pregnancies and, if the students are lucky, prevention of STDs. Solo or reciprocal pleasure? Consent? Treating it as a normal part of life for many people (and not ALL, again, asexual people exist)??? Naaaah, why do that, when you can make people feel shame and embarassment and perpetuate trauma. Again, I am a grown-up now, and while this is legal and everything, I was conditioned to feel some level of shame nonetheless when talking about it irl (which I am working on). The whip I was writing about before (and the kneeling scene afterward)? It was a revolution in my brain. "So... That's a thing we can do...?"

(like that) I plan on doing some adult drawings in the future, but there's a part of me that resists the idea, because adult entertainment usually involves some level of dehumanization... But you know what? I want to take it back and make it about pleasure and enjoyment as it should be. Tbh, I could write a whole essay on the causes for all of the above and how they interact (patriarchy, capitalism, religions as power institutions, etc.), but this is not the place. So I'll just say that I am really, really grateful to Nishi for including this arc in a manga for a young audience, as those are important years to build a healthy relationship with pleasure and one's own body. And as Sullivan said...

I'm very much convinced that Nishi is doing a great job at sending messages for inclusion and social equality in M!IK, taking the role of educator herself. (Other reasons why I love the Music Festival arc are: Soi's story, Clara and Azz becoming closer, Iruma learning the piano, the appreciation of music itself, the immaculate art and more, but that's for another post!!!)

[torturedpoetsdepartmentemployee]

I have an alternate universe Buggy that's been ratallng around in my head. A female Buggy that's like Taylor Swift, so she got into music and wants to be a singer. She spent most of her time on the Oro building up her guitar and piano skills. She stole the guitar from the musician(was aware but let it happen) and begged Roger to get a piano. She didn't inherently have the greatest vocals and got teased, specifically by Shanks. Dreams of being in front of a crowd cheering her on and singing her songs. Those dreams are what drive her. It goes hand in hand with canon Buggy’s inferiority complex and constantly seeking attention to be a star.

The reason I can imagine it is because Buggy would be the kind to right the most unhinged lyrics that TS is known for. Also a lot of her lyrics reflect Buggy.

Mirrorball - And they called off the circus Burned the disco down When they sent home the horses And the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me

Me! - I know that I'm a handful, baby, uh I know I never think before I jump And you're the kind of guy the ladies want (And there's a lot of cool chicks out there) I know that I went psycho on the phone I never leave well enough alone And trouble's gonna follow where I go (And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

Karma - ‘Cause karma is my boyfriend Karma is a god Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend Karma's a relaxing thought Aren't you envious that for you it's not? Sweet like honey, karma is a cat Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me Flexing like a goddamn acrobat Me and karma vibe like that Ask me what I learned from all those years Ask me what I earned from all those tears Ask me why so many fade, but I'm still here (I'm still, I'm still here)

peace - Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling ‘Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

long story short - Fatefully I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me Misery Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides The knife cuts both ways If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

Never Grow Up - And no one's ever burned you Nothing's ever left you scarred And even though you want to Just try to never grow up

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on Wish I'd never grown up I wish I'd never grown up

Endgame - I hit you like, "Bang" We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

The whole of Dear Reader and most of Anti Hero. New Romantics just sounds like a pirate anthem. So definitely something Buggy would write.

Here are the albums that would be about different exes. The exes that had a lasting impact on her.

Red Hair Shanks - Debut, Fearless, and Red

Donquixate Doflamongo - Speak Now, a little of Fearless and Red.

Charlotte Katakuri - Speak Now

Sir Crocodile - 1989

Sakazuki/Akainu -folklore, evermore

Dracula Mihawk - reputation, Lover, folklore, evermore

Midnights is a mix of them. Also she falls back in love with Mihawk and Crocodile after they form the Cross Guild.

Her exes have a hard time forgetting her and its made even worse by their enemies using the songs about them to torment them. It also doesn't help that their subordinates and families listen to her songs too. I'm still figuring out the timeline. Akainu happens before Mihawk but she is so hurt by him that she wasn't able to write any songs about him until much later.

None of this is a commentary on Taylor Swift or her personal life. Just my interpretations and how they'd fit.



[johnslittlespoon]

all the actor/celebrity au posts lately combined with troye bringing ross on stage last night for one of your girls has got me thinking...

a musician x musician au where gale is a troye sivan–esque ultra–famous queer pop star, and john's the singer of a well known indie rock band, and he gets asked by gale's team to star in a music video similar to one of your girls...

to everyone who doesn't know him personally, gale feels like this untouchable pop star. he's been in the industry for years, one of those classic 'i used to make music in my bedroom in my small town' stories, working his ass off before finally a song of his blows up and gets traction and then it's such a fast rise to stardom that he doesn't have time to wrap his head around it.

he never gets used to it, but he doesn't get an ego from it; he still hangs out with the same group of friends he's had since high school, and his team does most of his social media posting for him, because it freaks him out having all that attention, as grateful as he is. he's not shy by any means, not like he was when he started out, but he's not the biggest fan of all the fanfare and interviews and being put on a pedestal and all that. he keeps himself pretty distant online, and that coupled with the diva/superstar energy in his music/projects gives him this air of being on another level– a rare type of star all around.

john has a similar story, the whole growing up on the internet thing, making music in his basement in high school with the friends he's now in a pretty popular indie rock band with, working tirelessly to make a name for him and his friends. but that's kinda where their similarities end.

because john is known for being an absolute shit–poster, a little fiend online, a running joke in his fandom that 'john doesn't know that he's famous', 'should someone remind him this isn't a finsta?' type of vibe. he feels so accessible and down to earth, and while he's just as level headed and humble about his celebrity status as gale is, he displays it by being more present and trying to show the human side of it all, vs gale trying to create distance between gale cleven and the gale persona the world knows.

the band is first and foremost john's thing, but as he's grown in popularity, he's of course gotten offers for other avenues here and there, and at the insistence of his manager he decides to agree to try out a modelling shoot one day. he's not naive; he's more than aware of all the comments going on about his looks, stumbles across more tiktok thirst trap edits of him sweaty and shirtless on stage than he can count, isn't all too sfw in some of his band's songs, either.

he finds it all funny, but he also is someone who will always jump on new opportunities/experiences, and he ends up having a good time modelling, and picks up more gigs as time goes on. this is how gale becomes aware of him, somewhat because gale does occasional modelling too, but mostly because he's worked with a lot of big fashion names for tours and videos, so his and john's circles occasionally crossover, though they never actually meet in person.

so then comes this music video shoot, one that gale's been agonizing over for months, planning every little detail and making sure everything is perfect. it's something that drives his manager (marge? <3 gotta include the angel in every au obvs) insane because gale's got so much on his plate as is, but he likes to be so hands on with his projects, and she knows by now there's no talking him out of that. and everything is going great, until the person who's meant to be starring opposite gale has to pull out last minute due to a scheduling conflict or personal emergency or something.

and the usually very collected and put together gale is freaking out. it's the day before the shoot, everyone involved has already travelled to be on location, choreography is set in stone– this is his nightmare scenario, never doing well in situations where he has a lack of control. it's half of what scares him so much about being as famous as he is, is that he doesn't have a lot of autonomy or control over his own image or how he's perceived in the public eye (and digging deeper into backstory, probably stems from wanting to take back control after a childhood filled with being controlled by family.)

but it's situations like these where he's reminded why marge is his manager and he isn't, because she leaps into action the moment they find out about the cancellation, calming gale down so they can put their heads together to find a replacement. they reach out to a few of the names they have connections to, but it's too short notice for all of them, so maybe marge even just resorts to going through the people gale follows on instagram, and stumbles across john's page. he's got a good rep in industry and has worked on less 'conventional' projects before, so marge shuts down gale's fretting over "would he be comfortable with something like this?" by telling him there's only one way to find out, and contacting john's manager.

john agrees before he even hears the full pitch, and he's just as keen afterwards (albeit a bit nervous because by no means is he a professional dancer), knowing it'll be good publicity, and curious to explore a more artsy/out there gig, but also curious about the illusive gale, who he'd been surprised to receive a follow from a few weeks back.

john is flown out that night to the city of the shoot location, barely having a few minutes to change and head to the rehearsal space, where he meets a very frazzled but very thankful gale for the first time.

maybe they both have some preconceived notions about each other, despite having mutual respect and no actual interactions; john probably expects gale to be a bit stand–offish or conceited given his high celebrity status, but finds gale's actually bashful and quiet and easygoing when the cameras are off (when they're on, it's like he flips a switch, slipping into this persona, exuding confidence and sexuality and it honestly blows john's mind to witness in person).

gale probably expects to john to be loud and abrasive based off his well known social media posts, maybe even a little uncomfortable around gale, who is openly queer, whereas john isn't– maybe john hasn't ever stated his sexuality, has never given much thought to it, it doesn't matter much to him. instead he finds john's actually a little shy, much less bravado than he'd anticipated, but very enthusiastic and eager to learn and get the choreo and everything else right, assuring gale repeatedly that he's down to do whatever is needed.

so the two of them rehearse till the early hours of the morning, john taking it as seriously as though it's his own project he's invested months into, and gale gains such admiration for his commitment and willingness to stick his neck out for a borderline stranger (even though he's obviously aware this is a big boost for john's career). john gains a newfound appreciation for gale's work ethic and how much effort goes into every little thing for a huge artist like him.

and inevitably... there is sexual tension during the rehearsals. they're both overtired and sweaty and it's such a strange situation to meet for like five minutes and then jump right into dancing together so intimately, having to shed any inhibitions and self consciousness, but it's a blessing in the sense that they have to get comfortable around each other so quickly. there's no room for modesty or shyness, and john is genuinely speechless at how gale puts business first, and after double checking that john isn't uncomfortable, how he has no qualms about physically directing john, moving him how he wants him.

it's hot to john, the way gale knows exactly what he wants and is so passionate about his vision, and he'd be lying if he said the combination of being starstruck and being lowkey manhandled isn't getting to his head a bit. which is a whole other thing to unpack, because aside from vague acknowledgement of some men being attractive/beautiful, he's never actually found himself flustered by one like this, and it catches him off guard. he stays professional, but he still can't help but let his naturally flirtatious/joking personality slip out as the night drags on; he's like that with everyone he works with or hangs out with, and he thinks it would be weirder if he wasn't like that with gale, like everyone else would somehow notice.

meanwhile gale is fighting his own demons because he's got a very sought–after, very hot, very straight man dropping everything for him and letting him puppeteer him, on top of being so stubborn that even though gale can tell he's exhausted, john's refusing to call it a night until gale does, and THEN as if all that's not enough, john's effortlessly witty and complimentary and flirty. and gale's not one to mix business and pleasure, so he's not even entertaining these emotions, but he can't help but feel flattered by it all, while also reminding himself that john probably doesn't swing that way.

basically they both are discovering they have competence kinks lmao, like objectively they both find the other attractive, but it's not like they aren't constantly surrounded by beautiful humans in their lines of work, so it's more so the emotional side/work ethic that gets them both flustered, coupled with the inherent sexuality of dancing with very little clothing, hands on sweaty skin and toned muscles. but neither of them act on it, too tired by the time they call it a night even if they'd wanted to, and then it's back to their respective hotels to get a few hours of sleep before the shoot.

john isn't called to be on location until mid afternoon, and when he wakes up to his phone ringing and glances at the time, he freaks out, thinking he's slept through the shoot or something because he'd expected to be called early in the morning. he's told that he didn't sleep through it, but he's disoriented until he shows up, when he's told that gale had moved things around, filming as many scenes as he could without him before john was needed for his part, so that john could get more rest. (john swoons. just a little.)

he gets swept up in the capable hands of hair and makeup and wardrobe in his own trailer, and he doesn't see gale until it's time to film, and when he does, he almost doesn't believe it's gale. the glam makeup, the long blonde wig, the form–fitting sheer black dress and heels– gale's pretty as is, but with his features accentuated like that, john doesn't even know what to do with himself, feels like he's going through a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 25. he'd known gale would be in some sort of getup for their choreo, but nothing could've prepared him for this.

it makes it even more endearing that gale seems so awkward about it when he greets john, clearly out of his comfort zone in the ensemble, but john knows there's no way gale doesn't know how stunning he is, it's not a lack of confidence that's making him awkward. john keeps it together, reminds himself to be professional. tells gale it was really sweet that he let him sleep in, that he didn't have to do that, to which gale waves him off like it's no big deal. and he compliments gale too as they walk onto set, tells him, "you look great, wow," tame as he can be, and gale tells him "could say the same for you," and john snorts, gesturing to his simple jeans and boots and lack of shirt, says "feeling a bit underdressed, actually," and it gets a laugh out of gale.

when the cameras are rolling, any of that visible discomfort or awkwardness in gale disappears like someone's snapped their fingers and rid him of it, movements fluid like water, not an ounce of anything other than confidence and power and sensuality seeping through as he commands the camera with his energy. despite his aching body, john's grateful they ran the routine into the ground last night to the point that it's nearly muscle memory, because it's hard to concentrate when gale's looking down at him through long faux–lashes and gloss–plumped lips, caressing his jaw, playing with his hair, the sway of his hips and roll of his waist beneath john's hands so mesmerizing, john's half convinced he's being serenaded by a siren.

the tension would be insane, but equally confusing because neither of them would be able to discern what's an act and what's not, or if it's all just an act, pushing and pulling at an invisible line but never quite stepping over it even once the shoot wraps, both for the sake of professionalism but also for fear of rejection.

maybe after it all, john's on his flight back home and realizes in the whirlwind of everything, he never got gale's number (has a moment of 'why would i need it? this was just a gig' lol okay yearner). john's not even sure at that point what/how he's feeling about gale, the conflicting emotions of feeling attraction to him while in borderline drag doing nothing to help the confusion, especially because he can't excuse the attraction as just that when he was feeling things during rehearsal in casual clothes too.

he knows he could easily ask his manager to reach out to gale's manager for his number, but then he gets in his head convincing himself that if gale had wanted to talk further, surely he would've asked for john's number, since gale has way more reason to be selective with his own with his status.

he doesn't realize that on the other end of things, gale's realizing he also never got john's number, only he's talking himself out of reaching out because he doesn't want to read into john's friendliness as something flirtatious when as far as he knows, john is straight, and this was likely just a job for john, as well as they seemed to get along.

cue miscommunication when one of them actually works up the courage to dm the other on instagram since they're mutuals– either john dms gale something simple, a 'thanks again for the opportunity', and because gale is never on his socials and gale's team doesn't check messages much, it's weeks before anyone clocks john's message, during which john becomes sure he's nothing more than a coworker to gale, which he understands but is sad about. or, gale dms john, but from a private account with an innocuous username that he has just for friends and family, and john never even opens it because the lack of profile picture and generic user blends in with all the other message requests he gets a day.

they only end up reconnecting when the music video actually drops, because obviously it breaks the internet, and john happens to be doing promo interviews and radio shows at the time for his band's new album and tour, so an interviewer of course asks him what the experience was like working on a set like that and working with gale. john gives a glowing review, goes out of his way to praise gale– "the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the craziest work ethic i've ever witnessed firsthand in hollywood."

when the interviewer asks if john would ever consider working with him again, y'know, the classic question an interviewer has to ask so they can drum up clicks with a 'john egan hints at possible future project with gale cleven!' title, john lays it on thick the way he always does with a wink at the camera and a "he can call me up anytime," but then adds a serious "no, really, i would love to work with him again, he was great."

predictably, the people who are already losing their shit over the music video and making edits and fan theories about the two of them go even crazier, spam–tagging gale and his team in the comments of this interview post, which leads to it eventually making its way to gale, and gale then realizes that john hasn't been uninterested; he must've just not seen his message since surely he would've replied if he had (marge looks at him with so much disappointment when gale mentions his attempt to reach out– "gale, no one with that kind of following is going through dm requests from faceless, private instagram pages, you of all people should know this").

gale hasn't told marge about his possible feelings, but marge isn't dumb; she didn't stand on set for nearly 24 hours with her eagle–eyes and not notice the way gale had been looking at john. to anyone else, it might've just seemed like he was leaning into his persona, but marge has known gale for a long time, and she could tell it wasn't all him playing it up for the cameras.

so marge puts her manager–brain and best friend–brain together and decides that with all the hype surrounding the new song and video, the two of them being seen together in public and making a few posts together would be a great boost for both of them. but she knows gale will never go for it if she voices this to him, because he'd see it as using john for popularity; she reasons that if he doesn't know, it can't be using. so she reaches out to john's manager and figures out when they'll both be back in the same city, and relays her plan as if it's just business, asking for john's manager to let john know that gale will be in town the next week if he wants to set something up, and she gives the manager gale's number for john to contact.

when gale wakes up one morning to a 'hi, this is john! my manager passed on your number to me, hope that's okay. i was told you're in town next week? :)' and then 'egan. btw. lots of johns out there.' and then 'the music video guy.' (john, absolutely panicking on his end, worrying that gale might not even remember his name, not knowing gale's been stalking his socials and confusion–pining just as much as john has been doing the same.)

and then more miscommunication after they arrange to hang out, because john assumes this is just for publicity based on what his manager told him, and he understands, as much as he wishes they're hanging out properly. but gale assumes this is a genuine hangout, because john never says otherwise, until the end of the evening, when gale has to leave for a dinner event and john says "we better take those pics for the 'gram before we say goodbye, or the big guns'll have a fit."

and either gale masks his surprise and then disappointment and goes along with it, thinking maybe he missed a memo or misread things, and this conflict and miscommunication is dragged out even longer, or gale doesn't hide his confusion in time, and john is then equally confused, says "your manager didn't...?" and gale says "sorry, i didn't know; i guess i misread your texts," feeling stupid that he's been thinking the hangout is anything other than a pr stunt. and then there's the awkward "no! no– well, yeah, i was told that this was to promote the video, so i thought– i mean, i would've liked to hang anyway, i just didn't think you wanted to?" from john.

gale is slowly connecting the dots in his head and he's so embarrassed, but also relieved that he hasn't misread things and made a fool of himself. john looks on the verge jumping out of his skin as gale sits quietly, so gale puts him out of his misery, smiles and pushes his irritation about the incident down and says "i do want to, john. i think marge– it doesn't matter. it was a miscommunication, i guess." and all the tension evaporates out of john's body, and he lets out a laugh, and a "oh, thank god. fuck. i was about to walk into the street," and gale lets himself relax too, scoffing at john.

so they decide to have a redo the next week, since they both do feel obligated to take their stupid pictures now to please their teams (and the internet), and thus a tentative friendship is born, the two of them dancing around each other and around feelings because everything is confusing as is, let alone with the way their careers affect every aspect of their lives. so much slowburn, lots of john trying to figure his attraction out and gale keeping his walls up because the thought of literally becoming the person he's singing about in his music video is laughable, he doesn't wanna be strung around or used as an experiment for john.

and john respects this unspoken boundary and also appreciates that they can get to know each other as friends while he tries to stop freaking out every time he pictures him and gale doing less than platonic things. probably a whole lot of chaos on john's end with the absolute tornado that he is, ie: '4am 'am i gay' quizzes taken in the dark of his bunk on a tour bus, asking an openly queer friend from his band if his feelings toward gale are normal, rumours started by a fan that they saw john in a gay club after a show, etc.

because john doesn't do anything halfway– he's ready to literally go out and kiss men and explore his newfound feelings, not just to prove himself to gale, but to figure himself out, because he's terrified of hurting gale since john doesn't have the best track record with relationships. overthinks the shit out of everything and doesn't realize it's not that deep, that liking gale doesn't mean he's suddenly attracted to all men, that all gale wants is for john to be confident in himself and his feelings for him before pursuing anything.

there's a lot of back and forth and messiness and emotions stacked on top of their already crazy hectic schedules and lives, the theorizing and prying from fans and paparazzi, caution from management, but when they eventually have their point of no return moment and cross that line from friends to more, the chemistry is so intense that both of them feel stupid for dragging things out for so long.

when the initial new relationship shyness wears off, the sex is also insane, all the exploration and playfulness (and inevitability of the whole feminization thing coming back into play since that's what starts everything in the first place lol). they're barely able to keep their hands off each other, almost always spending the night at each other's places, stealing as much time as they can to make up for the time apart when there are tours or other events separating them.

they try to keep things private for a while, but with how active john is online, he slips up a good few times– tiktoks where a hat or something of gale's is accidentally left in the background, story posts where john's wearing one of gale's hoodies unthinkingly, mirror selfies where there's a mystery hand or leg in the background. the internet is torn, some convinced it's coincidence, some certain it's all a pr stunt to get people talking, some adamant that they're in a secret relationship. gale's never upset about it; they both just know how much things will change if they go public.

months are spent sneaking around, rarely going on public dates, the odd paparazzi shots still leaking out until it finally gets to the point that there's no point hiding things anymore, it's obvious that they're not just friends. they never actually announce it or make some relationship launch post; they just stop caring, and it's freeing and neither of them expect to be so affected by being able to publicly show affection for each other, but it's such a sweet thing and makes things feel so much more real.

john goes to gale's sold out arena shows and stares up at him in awe and can't believe that gale chooses him every day, and gale goes to john's band's high energy festival sets and watches his golden boy light up with joy every time he glances at him side stage and can't believe john chooses him too.

:-)

lol this post was meant to just be the two lines above the cut but then i got to thinking about origin stories and whoops new au drabble because i'm a master at getting carried away!!

[mysticmunson]

dad's best friend!steve and munson!reader

saw this concept making rounds and it makes me weak in the knees so here ya go. i decided to make it steve instead of eddie to switch it up lol, hope you enjoy

also sorry lone star 3 is taking forever, i promise i'm still working on it!

It was supposed to be a simple trip back to Hawkins, escaping the suit and ties of corporate New York City, but things were never that easy for Steve. Staying at his best friend Eddie’s house, he was proud of the way he was able to defy odds, now living in a nice home after success as a musician then as a restaurant owner. Both men had gotten busy, but their weekly phone calls and miscellaneous emails persisted.

When they would meet up, Eddie almost always came to New York due to his vacation rental being close, only moving back to Hawkins full time to be close to Wayne as he got older. His home was large, covered in his old band posters with their accomplishments framed on the walls. 

The last time Steve had been here was over a decade ago, the photos of Eddie and his ex-wife were gone, something both men had in common after they both endured failed marriages. Only Eddie had a baby, a girl, but who only came to visit during the summer and holiday breaks.

Steve sat across from Eddie on the couch, sipping some expensive red wine that was buried in his liquor cabinet. The age had made it taste better, knowing he probably hadn’t had guests over frequently, and if he did, they would probably settle for beer.

“Surprised you have alcohol this old with a teenager around.” Steve chuckled, scratching the stubble on his chin, swirling the drink to create a small tornado in the glass.

“Tell me about it, I’m just as shocked as you are that my kid wasn’t a delinquent.” Eddie jested, pressing his fist to the side of his forehead, leaning against the leather sofa, “She’s a good kid, she’s 21 now, it’s been awhile since you’ve seen her, huh?” 

Nodding, he took another sip, flowing back into the conversation of nostalgia and their current work lives. The mention of one of his restaurants made realization dawn on Eddie’s face, mumbling curses before standing.

“Fuck, I have to put in a food order at one of my locations, I gotta take this call.” Eddie groaned, grabbing his black slip on sandals that made him feel too much like an old man for his enjoyment. 

As Steve went to agree, the sound of a door opening and closing made both of them look up, a moment passing before you entered. Standing a bit taller in jeans and a halter top, you slipped off your sandals. Walking past Eddie as he stood, your stride stuttered when you met Steve’s eyes. 

“Hey sweetheart, you remember Steve, right? He’s staying with us for a few days, we can go to dinner or something tonight. I have to take a call outside.” He rambled, putting his hand over your hair, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

You sat down where your father was prior, ankles crossed and beneath your butt as you faced Steve. Your soft smile made him feel a little bit better, a lot of time had passed and you had grown up a lot. He wasn’t used to being around anyone else, but older male executives. 

The times Eddie came to visit Steve, he didn’t bring you along as you were typically with your mom, the divorce happening fairly shortly after you were born. He would hear updates, random accolades you had garnered or something funny you did. But here you were as a college student, seemingly well adjusted and inheriting the kind eyes from your dad. 

“Wow, it’s been a long time, huh? How are you? You’re in college now, right?” Steve asked, taking a final sip of his drink and setting the glass on the coaster. You nodded, signaling the small black kitten that slinked into the room to sit on your lap, who obliged and purred as you pet it.

“I’m good, in my sophomore year at Saint Mary’s,” You explained, the infamous all-girls college recollecting in Steve’s memory, “How are you? How’s Terri?” 

The sharp sting in his chest didn’t get easier at the mention of his ex-wife’s name, the woman who left him for his business partner around 9 years ago. It was partially the reason Steve hadn’t come back to visit, they had moved here when another branch of the company opened here. He couldn’t stomach seeing them or the kids they eventually had, ones that she had always told him she never wanted.

“Oh, we’re not together anymore, but I’m well. Business is good, keeping myself busy.” He replied shortly, watching the small cat crawl over to his lap for some attention. 

The sharp inhale from your mouth made him look up, “Shit, sorry, I had no idea.” 

“No, no! Don’t worry about it, it’s been almost 10 years, I’ve been riding solo since.” He laughed, watching your shoulder deflate any tension, “Tell me about college?”

“Saint Mary’s is nice, I like my professors and the classes are interesting. I’ve made a lot of nice friends there, but it’s an all girls school so not too much fun.” You began, shrugging and looking downward, messing with the friendly cat’s tail, “There’s a boys school nearby, but they’re…”

Awaiting your continuation, Steve watched thoughtfully, remembering how much he hated when people asked him questions, but wouldn’t even look him in the face. Realizing this, blood rushed to your cheeks as his hazel eyes glistened in your direction. 

“Immature. They’re very annoying.” You giggled, startling the cat who scurried off, but Steve joined your amusement.

“Makes sense, your dad and I were annoying then.” He mused, thinking about how many choices he made in the 1980s would lead him to now.

“Then?” You teased as his eyes rolled, Eddie re-enter the room with a hand covering his chest at your commentary with a dramatic scoff. 

Joining the conversation, the three of you talked until your stomachs rumbled, deciding to head out for dinner. Taking you three to the same restaurant as when he was younger, Eddie waved to his favorite waitress and slid into the booth.

Cramming in years of information into an hour seems difficult, but the three of you tried your best, making the time go by quickly before and after eating. You spoke eloquently for your age, posture straight naturally and carrying yourself well. Steve noticed these things and how your eyes kept lingering on him, but it was either him, Eddie, or the napkin holder to look at.

The wine they served wasn’t as strong as the one from before, but it was decent, getting them a bit buzzed. Your birthday had just passed, making this one of the first times you were able to order alcohol, making Eddie complain about how many gray hairs he had.

The air was crisp, nipping at your cheeks and nose as you rushed to Eddie’s black truck with full stomachs. Steve gave you the front seat, watching your profile glisten against the moonlight, seeing hints of Eddie’s features on you, including his tongue poking habit.

An abrupt shriek came from Eddie’s phone, fumbling with it as he flipped it open, hitting the green button. A quick voice could be made out from the other side as you looked back at Steve, shrugging and turning around. His work voice made you hold back a laugh, having to sound much more authoritative than he ever really had to get with you. 

Slamming the phone shut with a groan, he stopped at the red light and rubbed his palms down his face. Slapping his hands on the wheel when it switched to green, he went forward and took a turn down the next street.

“Some idiots fucked up one of the machines so I have to go run and fix it, I’ll just drop you guys off.” He huffed, “I swear, I hire these young people because they know about technology, but they’re the ones who break it!”

The rant lands them in front of the house, giving you and Steve an escape route as he drives away quickly. You both looked at each other for a second before erupting in laughter, making your way towards the front door, “Shit, I thought he was going to blow a blood vessel.” 

When you unlocked the door, Steve held the door open, letting you go through first as you both resumed your places on the couch. The T.V. had been left on showing sitcom reruns, a laugh track coming from the boxed machine. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen him that mad since I jokingly told him I was pregnant!” You joked, plopping on the couch, turning the channel to MTV.

“Jesus, don’t joke about that! Besides giving him a heart attack, you might speak it into existence.” He warned, thinking about how Eddie probably verged a panic attack when you said that to him. 

You scoffed, letting your arms fall at your sides, “Well it’s a good thing I don’t really have to worry about that.” 

“What do you mean-” Steve started before catching himself, cheeks flushing bright red,  “Oh, fuck. Sorry. You’re a pretty girl, it’ll happen event- Shit, that’s even weirder, sorry.”

“It’s okay! That wine must have been stronger than we thought.” You remarked, eyes watching the bright colors of the cartoon television bumpers. After a few minutes of just static filled cable, you yawned, excusing yourself to bed for the night. 

Once you left the room, he threw his head back, wincing at his own stupidity from moments before. The scene replayed in his brain, hoping it wasn’t humiliating or creepy for you to basically confirm your virginity to a man almost twice your age. He had to talk to you again, he figured apologizing would make things worse, so he settled for small talk. 

Walking up the big plush stairs, he had vaguely remembered the layout of the home after one visit as he drove through on his way back home. As he walked down the long hallway, he heard a soft breath, making him stop. 

His hairs stood as he heard a gentle moan, followed by just a hint of wetness, looking at the wooden door to his left that had a bedazzled tiara on it that lost many of the jewels. His tipsy mind made his feet inch closer, careful of the potential of the floorboards squeaking, but not realizing the fatal flaw in the house's design.

The door creaked open as the wooden panels bumped the bottom, making both of you jump in surprise. You had changed into panties and an oversized shirt, now bringing your knees to your chest.

“Shit, sorry! I came up here to talk because I felt bad about making things awkward, but I think I just made things worse!” He revealed, looking everywhere, but your face. Fidgeting in place, his fight or flight was failing him and he could only think of the noises he heard moments before. 

“Wait Steve!” You called, relaxing your legs to stretch in front of you, making his eyes cascade down them to your fuzzy yellow socks, “I have a question.”

“Uh, what? What do you need?” He sighed, blocking his view with his hands on his eyebrows, hoping the blood pumping through his veins went north instead of south. 

Except he didn’t hear you speak, just the squeaking of your mattress and footsteps until your socks could be seen. Cautiously moving his hand, he looked at you as you tucked loose hair behind your ear. 

His breath hitched in his throat as he smelled the faintest scent of sex and red wine from your stained lips, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I’m just curious, when did you have sex for the first time?” You spoke softly, unintentionally making his heart beat faster.

“I was 15, her name was Shelley. She was my second girlfriend.” He confessed, thinking of her and how it felt his first time. It went as smooth as first times go, losing it in her bedroom and having to be quiet because her parents were down the hall. 

You sighed, turning around to walk to the bed, sitting on the edge. Looking up in confusion, he slipped off his scuffed up white Nikes before walking on your pink carpet. He knew this was no man’s land, looking at the framed photos and posters on the walls.

“It’s okay to be a virgin, it’ll happen at the right time.” He assures, sitting beside you, hiking up his jeans by the thighs. His hand found your knee, squeezing it innocently until he remembered your barely clothed state. 

You tensed then relaxed beneath his grasp, turning towards him and smelling his potent aftershave. His fingers curled against your soft skin, his morals melting into a puddle as he looked at your fresh face. 

“I want you to fuck me, Steve.” You pronounced, a bit taken aback by your boldness, but not missing the way he jolted yet remained seated. 

“Sweetheart, we can’t-�� Steve began, shaking his head and having his brown locks fall in front of his face. His hair was slightly shorter than it was in his 20s, cutting it as he entered the 90s, but it still framed his face.

“Steve, please, I won’t tell. I swear.” You promised, the growing heat between your legs becoming more intolerable, squeezing your thighs.

As badly as he wished he had gotten up, walked downstairs, and slept on the couch until Eddie returned. He found himself meeting your lips, feeling the warmth of your skin radiating before he cupped your cheek.

You turned your body towards him, climbing onto his lap and feeling the bump growing underneath his pants. Your hands snaked around his neck, pulling him in fiercely, his coarse hands finding your bottom. The clean cotton meeting your delicate skin made his hips flex, falling onto his back before flipping you over.

Sitting up on his knees, your hands beat him to his shirt, throwing it to the floor. Your hands trailed to his happy trail, his stomach poking slightly over his jeans that grew with age. He was about to question the sexuality of it until he saw your eyelids droop. 

His belt came off quickly, followed by the awkward removal of his jeans, making you stifle a laugh. He took your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your tits, pert from arousal. The realization that he was likely the first one to see them made him harder, his boxers becoming tighter as he squeezed your chest. 

His hands went below your waistband, finding how silky your folds were, dipping to feel your slick. Your body pressed against his with a whimper, his thick fingers infiltrating your cunt as it gripped like a vice. 

Tucking your face against his neck, your gentle sounds went through his ears as his fingers thrusted into your small walls. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in small circles to excelerate your need. 

His mouth practically watered at tasting you, letting his tongue trace every line and nerve. He thought of your hands lacing through his hair and tugging as you cried at how good it would feel, how you had never felt so good. But you were already trying to wiggle his boxers down, your pussy craving something more.  

Taking his hands away, he ripped them off, making you moan louder than any of his touches. His muscles flexed, throwing the torn fabric against the wall before discarding his own underwear while straddling you on his knees. Your mouth dropped at his size, a pretty red with precum spouting from the slit and balls heavy from years of his own hand. 

“You sure you want this, sweetheart? A pretty girl like you could get any of those boys at school.” He questioned, knowing that you really could pull any guy in Indiana if you wanted, but you reached for his cock cautiously. You gave it a few tugs, twisting your wrist and gaining a rhythm that made his eyes roll back. 

“I want you inside me, I know you can treat me better. Please.” You begged, finding yourself growing more desperate as his length grew heavier in your grasp. Chills ran down his spine when you scooted down on the bed to put your lips on his tip, sucking it tentatively. 

His gut flexed, reaching forward to hold onto the headboard and the other hand cupping your cheek. The velvety feeling of your cheeks put him on the brink, the years without touch now weighing on him as you looked up at him, hungry. 

Slipping his hands beneath your arms, he dragged you up swiftly as you squeaked, his strength being exerted as he spread your legs. His motions were fast, his eyes blown with eagerness, but just as he was about to run himself up your lower lips, he froze.

“I don’t have condoms, I haven’t been with anyone since my wife.” He admitted, slightly embarrassed that he had remained celibate for nine years. He had tried dating, but it was hard to move on from what he went through, opting to bury himself in his work and buy one hell of a fleshlight. 

“I can take an after pill, I’ll go to the store right after.” You compromised, pulling him closer as your chests went flush against each other. His heavy breathing only escalated as he took the hand not holding him up to guide himself against your heat, keeping eye contact.

Attempting to look down and avoid his intense gaze, he only nudged you to upkeep the intimacy, making you crumble. He bumped against your opening, gasping as the mushroom tip persevered through, making him choke out a moan. 

You felt his soft curls as he thrusted slowly, trying to help you grow accustomed to his size. He hushed your faint cries, kissing your head before your lips. Your nose was still cold from the bitter weather, meeting his warm one while his tongue grazed your lower mouth. 

Parting your mouths to adjust the position, let gasps leave both of you, his pace becoming longer as he tried to fit at least half of himself in. You tugged on his hair as he reached a pleasurable part inside you, causing him to nip your lip. When he pulled away, you whimpered, but relaxed onto the mattress.

“That’s it, huh? Found your special spot? Your little fingers couldn’t get all the way up here, could they? I’m not even all the way in.” He teased, holding your hip firmly to create a tempo, finding the same placement that kept making you moan. 

Nodding frantically, you opened your eyes to see his bore into yours, feeling the situation grew far more intimate and intense than expected. He moved your left knee up, letting his naval hit at your clit at a perfect angle. 

“Deeper, fuck me deeper.” You breathlessly requested, mewls falling out as he obliged, his balls just reaching your ass, “You feel so good.”

He faltered, biting his lip to refrain from letting go too soon, counting to five in his head before picking back up. Your hands fell to your chest, toying with your sensitive nipples as your body trembled. 

Looking up at him with wide eyes, he saw the nervousness in them, as if the reality of the situation began to hit as your orgasm crawled closer. He felt a tug in his heart, softening his expression and taking one of your breasts in his palm.

“Do you feel good?” He pondered and was met with a nod, “Then you’re okay. Just let it happen.”

As if he had bewitched your body, your orgasm came shortly after, making your body heat rise and mind go blank. Somehow, Steve was able to hold off, working you through your finish until you came back to reality, whimpering at the sensitivity of his touch.

He felt himself growing closer, his balls and lower gut tightening, pressing himself against your tummy to feel a subtle movement beneath. He was fully submerged, your come making his dick glide smoother. 

You gripped his bicep, putting your damp forehead against his, feeling encapsulated by euphoria as you knew he grew closer. He gritted his teeth, edging himself to make this moment last as long as possible.

“Come inside me, fill me up.” You pleaded, his head snapping up, bewildered to the point of amusement.

“Don’t say things like that. I won’t be able to contain myself.” He rationalized, but your hormones were desperate for it, as if the world would stop spinning if he didn’t. You pressed his cheek to yours, your lips just at his ear, his warm breath hitting your shoulder.

“Fill me up Steve, fuck a baby into me, make me yours.” As the words left your mouth, the rope of his sanity was severed, taking both your knees and shoving them to the bed. 

Those few words are ones he had been waiting for for years, all his rationality and judgment was discarded to the side. There would be a plethora of pieces to pick up as soon as he would finish, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to care. The primal need to pump you full had created tunnel vision.

The once gentle pace was replaced by a brutal one, his balls smacking harshly against the shell of your ass as you wailed. You stuttered on your own noises, rubbing your bundle of nerves as he obliterated your cunt, borderline bruising your cervix. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, startling you as you gawked at the way his veins poked from his neck and hands. With a few more thrusts, he moaned brokenly as his come coated your walls and your second orgasm met his. His hand shoved yours away, rubbing quickly to the point of overstimulation, wiggling.

His body fell on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly as he did the same, twisting to lay on his side. He let his softening cock fall from your cunt, feeling his own release covering himself as it poured out.

There were no words to explain what had occurred in the past hour, letting your foreheads touch in silence with closed eyes for a moment. Steve had to recoup before he even tried to act normal and he didn’t forget it was your first time, stroking your hair.

The bed felt cold when he got up, grabbing his underwear and disappearing for the bathroom. Though his touch had just been introduced, you were craving it instantly, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

He returned with a wet cloth, wiping between your legs delicately, making you blush fiercer than when he was plowing into you. Once he had soaked most of it up, he tossed it into your laundry basket on the other side of the room, grabbing a clean pair of panties and shirt from the floor to help you redress. 

“I’m sorry if I got a little intense.” He mumbled out as your head poked through the white shirt, seeing his bashfulness at his behavior. You gifted him a small smile, mumbling that you liked it through a yawn, tired eyes fluttering. 

“I’m gonna go back downstairs, let me know if you need anything, okay?” Steve explained, kissing your head and bringing the blanket up to your chest, “Also, make sure you go to the bathroom, you can get a UTI if you don’t.”

He chuckled at the scrunch of your nose, walking to his own discarded clothes and putting them back on. The sweat made his jeans a bit harder to put on, thankful he chose a loose shirt for the day, snatching his Nikes he had left by the door on the way out. 

He needs to stay in fucking New York.

[badkitty3000]

What job do you think Five would have pursued had he never time travelled (if he ever decides to leave the academy)?

This is a very interesting question and I had to think about it for a while. I love this concept that he would have a real, real-person job if his life had gone in a different direction, and it's one I have not put much thought into before. But I like it!

So, for the sake of argument, I'm going to say that if he never time traveled to the future, then maybe the team would have been a little closer and his relationship with Viktor would have healed some wounds. In which case, Viktor wouldn't have been so angry and there would be no 2019 Apocalypse.

With that little pesky problem out of the way, Five and the rest of the gang would have been left to pursue their own lives, etc. We already know Diego went into the police force, Allison became an actress, and Viktor was a professional musician. Luther was busy on the moon, Ben was busy being deceased, and Klaus...well, who the hell knows what Klaus was doing. So, that leaves Number Five.

It's weird to think of him doing something ordinary, like working in an office, or even as a professor as some have theorized before. Unfortunately, we don't ever get a chance to see what his interests or passions are, since he jumps when he's 13 and then the rest of the time is spent trying to save the world. We only know he's exceptionally smart and good at math, but it seems fair to say that if he never ran away, he'd develop some real hobbies and interests that would maybe turn into a career of some sort. What if he found he loved botany and gardening and became a biologist or opened his own plant nursery? What if he got really into cars and became a mechanic or auto engineer? Maybe he would have started to pay attention to Grace when she was tending to their wounds and decided medicine was his calling? It's kind of cool to think about the possibilities, but also sad since he never got that chance to find out, even for himself.

Which brings us back to the original question. I have only ever written Five as either being a hitman of some sort (either Commission, Mafia, or independent) or retired. Not very creative on my part for sure! But in one of my stories, I do have his grown son that has similar powers to himself run a tech company using their teleportation powers as the basis for it. I never go into detail as to what it involves, mostly because I'm not that smart to come up with something cool like that, and also because I figure most readers don't care.

However, I am going to make that my answer for Five, as well. We know (well, maybe not know but most of us assume) that Five used his knowledge of his powers as the basis for developing the briefcases for the Commission when he founded it. I would think he would still use that same knowledge to develop some sort of technology that would (hopefully) better the world, if he never had to create the Commission in the first place. Something very heavily science-based, very complicated, and very cutting-edge. Perhaps even incorporating time travel into the technology itself. Basically, he would be a much cooler, non-asshole, hot version of Elon Musk or Steve Jobs. He'd probably be famous and be on the cover of Fortune 500 or Scientific American or something, rolling his eyes at the interviewer's questions while checking his watch and sipping his coffee.

So, there you have my very convoluted answer to your very good question. If you were looking for a much more every day type job, then I would say he might open his own coffee house/bar that also offers axe throwing 😄

[guess-that-ship]

S11 Round 1

The Woods

cw: violence, murder, spoilers

They love each other and they can't stop killing each other. It's never permanent, though they don't always seem to realize that. They just don't have much choice, and anyway, they're doing it to save the world. They're both helpless pawns in a bigger game, but they are also both literal gods. Also, one of them has up to a dozen voices in their head telling them what to do, and how to kill.

Even without knowing what's happening, they both want to escape the game they're trapped in together. They wind up bonding over their odd cat-and-mouse dynamic, connecting with literally the only other being that can understand what they're going through -- even if NOT killing each other might mean the end of the world.

Or maybe not. Maybe they can just escape. Or maybe they can just stay in the same time loop forever, enjoying each other's strange company while occasionally killing each other. That's the funny thing with time loops, they just keep on recurring.

Light Rock

cw: spoilers

A is a struggling musician who ran away from a strict home to follow his artistic dreams. B grew up in a highly controlling rich family who disapproved of her interests and looked down on her, so she left them. B later went to A's concert, where they hit it off. A made an impulsive decision to stay in town to be with B and they started dating. However B, having grown up rich and spoiled and all that, acts very condescending toward A, seeing him as more of a fun past time like her many past flings until A manages to find a way for them to connect on common ground. B eventually finds herself reconsidering her worldview, finding newfound beauty in the world, and decides to go through with a high-risk pregnancy. B dies in childbirth, leaving A to grapple with trying to understand her complicated past and the ways she hurt him.

[takemealivelh]

heart is gonna flatline || l.h.

tour puts luke and lucy's feelings to the test. addiction to sex, alcohol and weed for when things get hard. SMUT.

this was so fun to write ! loved to participate in the @5sos-fic-fest this year. hope you enjoy this. here's the ao3 link.

7.1 k

FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED

Prompt Au where the characters are both famous musicians with their own projects who have a well-documented public friendship. When they announce a tour together fans go crazy, as do the shippers. As the tour progresses, maybe the shippers are on to something…

Pop-rockers 5SOS and Latina indie-rocker Lucía Huerta announce tour together Last year, there were rumors about the frontman of the Australian band -Luke Hemmings, 27- and relatively new sensation Lucía "Lucy" Huerta, 28. They'd been caught leaving West Hollywood bars together, late at night, on numerous occasions. They put the speculation to a stop when in June 2023 Lucy uploaded an Instagram story of her and the blond having a drink. She tagged Hemmings and wrote "that's the homie", to which Luke replied in his own stories "that's me :)". They've been seen hanging out repeatedly since then, but it doesn't seem any more platonic than work friends. And speaking of work friends, 5 Seconds of Summer and Huerta just announced a 2024 tour that definitely excited fans, not just because of the vibrant shows they expect to see later in the year, but also because they want to see how the relationship of the two stars will develop during the four-month North American dates. Here at Music Getaway, we'll definitely keep a close eye on them.

-

"i'm not ready to tell them yet," lucy says to his boyfriend as she leaves the coffee cup on the kitchen counter next to them. they've been dating for eight months. it's been hard to hide their relationship from the press, and luke isn't too keen on the idea. he actually hates it. but he loves lucy. he loves that she's a talented musician, her laugh, her jokes and her business smarts. and he just can't enjoy this in peace, not with being so secretive.

"you've been saying that for months now. when are you gonna be okay with this? with us?" luke doesn't get it. why hide when they go out on dates and he can finally press a hand on her ass in public to stop the thirst traps people seem to tag her on. hoping to get a chance with her? fuck no. the blond wants her all to himself, he can't deny that.

lucy twists her lips, stalling. the smell of freshly brewed breakfast coffee dancing around them. "you don't understand." she finally says, reaching a hand to touch his arm for a few seconds. the thought of being out in the open with luke would change everything. "people will treat me differently. they might not respect me anymore."

"what are you talking about?"

"luke, come on. i got my own interview with kelly clarkson and then i played the iheartradio festival." they'd been incredible opportunities. "all of my hard work goes away the minute they know we're together. they'll say oh she was fucking the rockstar and he got her those big breaks. i don't want that. i don't want people to minimize my efforts."

luke sighs and shakes his head. "is that what's more important?" lucy shrugs. "okay," he finally says.

"okay?"

"yeah. it's fine. i get it. i won't bring it up again."

lucy throws her arms around his neck. "thank you," she whispers before kissing his lips softly. "i love you."

-

luke sits with ashton outside the rehearsal room. they've been playing for nearly two hours and they need a breather, especially because luke's mind is spinning. "i don't know, man. it sucks." they hear chattering on the other side of the door, a few guitar riffs and then laughter.

"of course it sucks, mate," ashton tells his friend. "she doesn't want to be in your shadow. it really fucking sucks and you better not fuck this up for her. you know how hard she's been working." he had grown fond of lucy. she was as much of a fan of drums as he was. he taught her a few fills and she invited him to do yoga and get high, ending up talking about how the unconscious force of creativity is beyond any of us. ashton doesn't want to see her heartbroken because of her boyfriend's, his best friend's inability to trust someone who really loves him.

-

luke's insecure, there's no question about that. after his marriage fell apart, he fell into a depression. and when he got better, he found this woman in the venue of the iheartradio festival, she was wearing cool sunglasses and stevie nicks-looking clothes. hippie goth he would've dared to say. they were watching the soundcheck of another band and started talking after she took out a cigarette from her backpack and asked him for a lighter.

"sorry, no. i don't smoke."

"that's okay," she smiled. 

that was all she said before looking for -and eventually finding- a lighter in the outside pocket of her small backpack.

the man looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright and the warm air of the field. he squinted one eye and turned to her. "they sound pretty good," he said of the band that was talking onstage, between songs. she nodded her head. "do you know them?"

"not personally, no," she replied and blew smoke out in a thin line. "but i've been a fan of them for a while now. they're one of my favorite indie bands."

that got them talking, eventually introducing themselves and catching up later after each other’s set. there was chemistry and flirting. luke's band immediately caught up to what was happening, when he said he was gonna congratulate lucy and be right back. but he didn't and it took them a full while to find him, thirty minutes before they went up and played.

-

"you got a lighter?"

calum nods and lights the cigarette for her. the smoking area of the building being a small parking lot.

"thanks," she breathes out. "you out here on your own?"

the bassist nods. "it's a good place to think."

lucy smiles and rolls her eyes. “cheesy,” she says with a grin.

"where's loverboy?" he asks, a cheeky smile on his face. calum was the first one to see them kissing. it was an afterparty at his band photographer's place. he'd gone to the kitchen when everyone started leaving, eight in the morning. when he went back to the living room with a cup of coffee, he saw lucy snuggled up to luke, smiling at him. luke smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. "aren't you guys glued to the hip anymore?"

lucy chuckles, "i don't know. there's... a lot happening."

"i'm listening."

"uh... okay. so... we decided to not tell everyone yet that we're dating. Not even with the tour. and i think he's mad at me."

"why do you say that?"

"he's been more... distant. and i don't know if that's what i wanted but it feels like... payback. like, you banned us and now i'm gonna make sure you feel it type of thing."

"i'm sure it's not that."

a bitter chuckle leaves her lips. "helpful as usual, cal."

-

cincinatti, first stop of the you don't go to parties tour. lucy had laughed when they first told her the name of the tour, but she eventually grew to like it and even embrace it. it's 6 pm and her soundcheck just ended. security lets fans in for a q&a with 5sos. she walks over to her boyfriend and smiles at him, wanting to kiss him good luck, or maybe just because she loves him. but luke stops her before she can even tilt her head up to reach his lips.

"we can't now. remember?"

it leaves her heart sore. she stands still as luke enters the stage and is greeted with the cheering of the fans. the rest of the guys are already seated on the small stairs of the set. she watches him ignore her and the questions about her. michael replies to one of them by saying she's our friend and we care for her and we're pretty inspired by her work as well, so it seemed like a good idea to, like, join forces and do this tour together.

lucy hopes luke will acknowledge her at some point, but he doesn't. when they start playing talk fast for the few lucky seventy fans in the audience, she twists her lips and leaves, heading backstage.

-

he doesn't see her until she's onstage again, playing her set of amazing songs for the 16,000 people attending the show. they dance and scream the lyrics back to her. she plays her guitar and sings with her raspy grunge-style voice over the indie-pop-rock arrangements her backing band provides. his heart beats faster as she approaches the microphone and starts talking.

"and thank you to my friends in 5sos who have been kind enough to invite me to co-headline this tour. the you don't go to parties tour seemed a little odd to me at first because this is definitely a party, isn't it?" she smiles as the crowd cheers. "so thank you guys," lucy turns to the left of the stage and sees luke standing next to her guitar tech. "i really fucking love you."

-

because of technical issues, the band can't perform the whole setlist. sometimes it happens. ashton is always pissed. "they're missing the whole experience!"

"yeah, well. nothing we can do. venue told us we could do the whole hour and a half but because of the issue with the speakers, they can't last that long. you have to cut two songs."

the tour manager tries to hold this thing together as ashton and michael complain. calum offers suggestions.

"i guess we could lose um... we could lose babylon, right? just this once and... flatline maybe?" the bassist looks over at luke.

flatline is the one song they had never played live before and it’d be a surprise for the audience. especially because lucy would come onstage to sing it with them. play the rhythmic guitar while luke walks around, hyping up the crowd. they'd rehearsed it several times and she was excited about it. they both were. allegedly.

"sure," luke replies as he drinks a glass of tequila, setting it down on a table and making sure his guitar is properly tuned. "let's cut them."

michael and ashton look at each other and then at luke. the frontman shrugs and his friends tell the tour manager that they will cut babylon and flatline.

-

all of the musicians have separate rooms in the hotels. even luke and lucy. she'd insisted it'd be easier. luke hated it. and he didn't expect her to show up at his room, unannounced, with a frown on her forehead and breathing hard.

"you cut our song," she steps inside the white room with the white walls, white bed and white comforter. looking at luke, the woman crosses her arms.

"we had to," he simply states. as if he wasn't the one greenlighting the whole thing.

"you could've told me, though. i was looking stupid next to the stage, waiting for you to introduce me. and it never happened."

"is that all that matters to you? how you look in front of other people? we had to cut two songs, lucy. the surprise's gonna be even bigger in the next show. fans will appreciate that."

lucy twists her lips and walks straight past him towards the door. "you're an asshole," she says before closing it behind her.

-

the beginning of the flight to boston is awkward. the whole twelve -the bands and the crew- can sense the tension inside the plane. it stems from luke and lucy, obviously. when did everything get so uneasy?

twenty minutes into the duration of the flight, though, luke slides into the seat next to his girlfriend. she doesn't look at him.

"i should've told you."

"yeah, you should've."

her heart beats faster as he places a hand on her cheek, guiding her eyes towards his own. he looks inside the brown hues and decides he can't keep hurting her. but she hurt him first. he wants to grow up and let it go. it's proving to be harder than he thought. maturity hasn't caught up to him easily yet. "i'm sorry." she closes her eyes and luke leans in to kiss her. "i'm sorry," he repeats.

a hand on his wrist, lucy is sad. looking into his eyes makes her sad. "it's okay," she finally says.

-

"and now we've got a pretty special surprise for you," michael grins into the microphone as the whole venue screams. "it's time to invite lucy huerta back on stage!" he shouts with a smile.

luke thinks lucy looks so fucking edible in those tight pants and that see-through top. her smile is big as she waves to the audience and settles on the center of the stage, where luke usually is. he gets another microphone from one of the roadies before ashton counts to four with his hi-hat.

should've seen me like a year ago, year ago/i was someone you don't even know, even know/dark times kept me all alone, all alone/you were shining like a heart of gold, heart of gold

he steals glances at her as she smiles into the crowd that’s going wild, her acoustic guitar hanging from her shoulders. 

luke was depressed after the divorce, staying home and drinking himself to sleep. then he got his shit together (half of it at least), went to the studio and worked through his issues by writing songs. when he met lucy, luke thought she was the most wonderful person on the planet. she had the kindest heart and was an overall joy to have around. he sings the pre-chorus and is taken aback by her strong voice as she takes over the song with her playing and her singing.

ooh, i'm falling for the first time/heart is gonna flatline/now i can't even look at you/you're like staring at the sunshine, burning into my mind/now i can't even look at you

and she doesn't. she doesn't look at him as she sings, unlike rehearsals when they couldn't stop singing to each other. it breaks his heart, considering it's their song. he wrote this for her.

"thank you!" lucy shouts and then leaves the stage waving everybody goodbye.

-

after the show, luke showed up to her hotel room. the bands were out clubbing and when he heard lucy wasn’t gonna join them, he immediately took an uber back to where they were staying. 

“let me in, please,” he says after knocking on her door three times. when she finally appears, she’s wearing a towel around her body and another one around her hair. she looks tired. “can i come in?”

without saying a word, lucy steps aside and luke walks into her room. she closes the door behind her and approaches him. 

“talk to me,” he basically begs. reading her mind is like an unsolvable sudoku, the man can’t get his head around it. “I love you.”

“i love you, too,” she whispers, looking down at his messy converse sneakers. 

luke quickly grabs her face and kisses her. it’s passionate and arousing and she can feel herself melting under his touch. she knows they should actually talk about it, instead of making out and falling on the bed, her towels discarded somewhere on the floor. she can’t help it. they’re both sex addicts. lucy rips his thin black shirt open and kisses down his chest, leaving his skin wet with the droplets that run down her hair. his breathing grows heavier and his pants grow tighter in the crotch area. he closes his eyes as she trails the kisses back up to his face. “take it off,” she pleads and sits next to him. luke quickly reincorporates himself to toss his shirt, his slacks and his underwear out of the way. he’s big and pulsating and lucy swallows hard, he turns her on so much. 

when the last item of clothing hits the floor, one of his shoes, the man licks his upper lip and straddles her body, hovering over her. “you really want me, huh?” his smirk is cocky, as if he’s forgotten everything about these past few days. it’s like nothing ever happened and they’re still in their love bubble. she so desperately wants to go back to it, so she nods and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him to her lips as she parts her legs. luke hooks an elbow on her knee and spreads her wider, watching her folds throb for him. so slick and ready. he kisses her once more before carefully dropping her leg onto the bed. “condom,” he says. “i need to fuck you now.”

lucy reaches out to the bag she keeps on the nightstand. eyeliner, pills and condoms. she hands him one and it doesn’t take long before his cock is ready. luke smirks and kisses her, lining himself against her entrance with one hand, he takes a deep breath and penetrates her.

her gasp shouldn’t come as a surprise, given that it’s the same sound every time, not at all used to having him being so big and thick yet, even after all these months. she closes her eyes and bites her lower lip as luke runs a hand through his damp curls, letting her adjust to his size. he groans as he feels her walls engulfing him. “i want you so much,” he offers a low moan and starts picking up the pace of his thrusts. bringing one of her legs over his shoulder, the man reaches a deeper spot that makes her moan out. 

“fuck,” she pants as the bed bounces underneath their bodies. luke’s strength and determination to fuck her stupid works. her eyes roll to the back and she digs her short nails into his naked back. “more,” she begs and is immediately met with a hand around her throat. “more,” her plead is inaudible as she feels like she can’t breathe from the pleasure.

luke’s pupils are dilated in a way she’s never seen before. he tightens her grip around her throat and around her leg. gulping down at the sight of his girl falling apart under him, he tries to restrain louder moans but how can he? how can he fuck her quietly when she looks and feels so fucking good? “say you’re mine,” he orders. “say you’re mine.”

-

the morning sun shines through the window and rests its light on lucy’s face. She scrunches her nose and opens her eyes. she’s lying on luke’s chest, they’re both naked. he doesn’t seem to notice her shifting. the woman looks up at him, wondering when things got so complicated. she loves him. she truly loves him. he’s the first man she’s ever loved, in a real way, not a platonic crush way. the fact that he makes her laugh and his skills when making music and also in bed are extraordinary. he’s a sensitive soul and it’s such a wonder when he lowers down the walls he builds up around people. letting them in but not all the way. not in the way he does with her. or did. “why can’t you trust me with your thoughts anymore?” lucy wonders in a soft whisper before pressing a kiss to his sternum and getting up. she goes to the bathroom and takes a shower. when she opens the door that leads to the bedroom, luke is up and scrolling through his phone. “hi,” she smiles softly. her boyfriend’s hair is a mess and there’s still sleep inside his eyes. 

“hey,” the man smiles back, putting his phone away. “flight’s at 6. you wanna do something today?”

lucy leans against the frame of the bathroom door. she crosses her arms in front of her chest and thinks for a moment while twisting her lips. “what do you have in mind?”

-

they both go down in the elevator, not touching, and it’s killing them. when they reach the hotel’s diner, they find calum and ashton sitting at one of the tables, drinking orange juice and eating bagels.

“you guys had fun last night,” calum smirks as the couple sits down with a plate of waffles and two cups of coffee.

lucy blushes and luke has to stop every inch of his urgent body to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “shut up,” they both say in unison. there’s a soft smile on their faces.

after michael drops by to have a quick breakfast and then leaves to facetime his wife and his baby daughter, the rest of them decide that it would be cool to go out and explore the city. so they do that. they go to a park and sit around, smoking and drinking warm water because of the summer heat upon them. a couple of fans stumble across them and ask for pictures. they stay for around ten minutes before leaving off to continue their day, the musicians keep on enjoying the sun and the fresh air. if you ignore calum and lucy’s cigarettes, that is.

they go to lunch at a nearby restaurant and order pasta salads. lucy looks over at luke across the table, he’s laughing at one of ashton’s jokes and she sighs almost imperceptibly, looking down at her empty plate. there’s a single ravioli and two tomato slices on it. she looks up when she feels a foot against her ankle and sees luke smiling softly at her.

they can’t help but fuck in the restaurant’s bathroom. locked into a single stall, she drops to her knees and sucks him off. luke pins her against the door and buries his head on her neck to muffle the sounds when he slides into her. she’s got a leg wrapped around his waist and she swallows hard to hush the sounds she wants to make.

when they reach back the table, they find that ashton and calum have deserted them, leaving them with the bill. “assholes,” she says and luke laughs.

-

Seen out: Luke Hemmings and Lucía Huerta have an off day in Boston

The pair walked out of the Intercontinental Hotel with Ashton Irwin (5SOS’ drummer) and Calum Hood (5SOS’ bassist). They were seen by fans at Fenway Park and they took pictures with them. Luke looks tired in the photos, but he seems happy. He wears roughed-up sneakers and a white tank top. Lucy wears short denim shorts and a black top with flowy sleeves. The fans that tagged them in the Instagram posts spoke about how nice they were and how exciting it was to meet them. Hemmings and Huerta were both seen leaving Tenderoni’s Fenway restaurant and getting into an Uber. According to inside sources, the pair haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other during this tour so far. We hope it stays that way.

-

“fuck,” lucy’s frustration about the latest hollywood gossip blog post seems to go unnoticed on the plane. but luke can tell, and he wraps an arm around her the minute they both sit down. “they know. they seem to know,” she hands him her phone so he can read the writing piece. she hates it. she hates it so much. “inside sources can suck my dick.” this statement makes luke giggle. “what’s so funny?” she asks, annoyed.

“nothing.”

-

the next cities go by in a time whirlwind. lucy’s been distant since the article and it breaks luke’s heart. she refused to hold his hand and kiss him outside hotel rooms. even concerts’ backstages.

a few months after they met, they attended a house party in santa monica. the sparks between them were something everybody noticed, but they didn’t seem to think much of it. they’re rockstars, they’re the same age, of course they’re gonna flirt. luke fucked her in the spare bedroom, door locked. she gasped when she felt his cock for the first time, knowing he’d just made her addicted to it. he’d ruined every other man for her.

“we should head back downstairs.”

“i wanna stay here with you.”

“luke.” his name was rough against her lips as she hooked her bra back on.

“alright, i’m up.”

looking back, that should’ve been a red flag for him, but he chose to ignore it. because she made him feel good and he didn’t want her to leave him for somebody else. he didn’t want to be left again. he’d loved his ex-wife, and it was hard to get over her after she cheated on him. lucy had never been in a relationship, just random hookups, a friend with benefits and two weeks of winter love. she feared intimacy and luke could tell after the second time they had sex. spend the night, he’d said. lucy shook her head and told him she needed to get up early in the morning for an interview, which was a lie.

-

by the time the first month rolls around, they’re barely talking. It’s all sex and pretending onstage. pretending to have fun, pretending that they’re not hurt. their hearts break in silence. well, sort of.

“i told you not to fuck it up.”

“she won’t let me in. she won’t talk to me about it.”

“fix it.”

-

someone just like you, no one else/lights will guide you so, run like hell

the screaming fans can’t get enough of the energy onstage. michael jumping around, calum throwing his head back to expose his neck to the crowd, ashton beasting out on the drums. luke crouches in front of the crowd with a wide smile and lucy plays guitar while she sings her heart out. the lights radiate orange and red colors on the stage, the bass resonates in their bodies and there’s so much adrenaline going on that she has a moment of weakness. she looks over at luke, who has walked over to michael’s side of the stage as he sings the second verse. he wears a silver shirt that makes his shoulders look so spectacularly broad. she looks at him a little too long and when the camera pans over to her, showing her true feelings on the giant screen, fans seem to lose it even more. luke walks back to her and sings directly into her eyes, as if he can feel his way back to his girl. finally. a sad smile appears on her face for a split second before she starts dancing while playing the post-chorus instrumental outro. her long wavy hair hides her face and no one notices a single tear rolling down her cheek. when the song ends, she pretends to be emotional about the crowd, about how much they seem to love the show. which she is very grateful for. but on the other side of the coin, she just fucked up everything for herself. her career. and it’s clear when luke approaches her with a reassuring smile and one fan screams KISS! KISS! and then the whole venue is yelling the same word over and over again. michael and calum look at each other, ashton wipes off the sweat from his forehead and when the chanting doesn’t seem to stop, he grabs his mic. 

“alright, alright. calm your asses down,” the drummer laughs and the crowd follows suit. a distraction. he starts talking about how they recorded the song and thanking lucy for putting on a fantastic show with them for the beautiful souls in the audience.

lucy twists her lips, trying not to break down in front of thousands of people. so, she just waves and quickly exits the stage. luke takes a deep breath. he wants to run after her, make sure she’s okay. but she would never forgive him for giving the fans more reasons to speculate about their relationship. 

-

lucy cries backstage, alone. she takes off her makeup and sees dark circles underneath her eyes. why the fuck is she such a mess? why can’t she be in love like a normal person?

-

the show ends and the first person to knock on her dressing room is, obviously, luke. “are you okay?” he opens the door and sees his girlfriend lying on the sofa, sleeping. her makeup’s off and he can better appreciate the freckles on her nose that she gets in the summer. he stays with her, sitting on the chair in front of the mirror. the man looks at her as she wrinkles her nose in her sleep. he loves her so much. but what if this it? what if this is the end for them? 

michael opens the door, “what’s going on? is she okay?”

“she’s okay,” luke smiles weakly. “she’s sleeping.” 

lucy holds a pillow to her chest. she’s covered by luke’s jacket. michael decides he should probably leave them alone. “good luck, man,” he says as he pats luke’s shoulder, then he leaves the door closed after stepping back out.

luke could really use a joint right now. all these thoughts and feelings. wondering what she may be dreaming. or what she does with her days when they’re not together. he hates being so possessive, it makes him feel like a child. but how can you blame him?

“good luck with what?” lucy’s yawn startles him. she rubs one eye open.

michael meant well, but he also wanted to protect luke from heartbreak. lucy’s given him that for months now. all the guys -at least in the bands- knew lucy has a bit of… issues. she believes in things to be too black or white, good or bad, yes or no. no space for grey areas in her life. and that’s frustrating to deal with, but luke had fallen in love because she was so intense and so hardheaded when it came to defending her values. He admired that about her. “I honestly have no idea,” he lies behind a chuckle, playing it off as usual band nonsense. “do you wanna go back to the hotel and sleep?”

she’s too tired to get into an argument about taking separate cars, so she just nods. “Yeah.”

-

when they get to the hotel room, luke tucks her in and pours her a glass of water that he leaves on her nightstand. he looks for ibuprofen in her small bag with pills and condoms and sets two next to the water. 

“i’m sorry for being such a bitch to you,” lucy says with her eyes closed, lying on her side. 

she looks so out of it. as if she’d just drank an entire bottle of vodka and then smoked weed. he feels bad. he never meant for her to feel like this when they got into a relationship. but touring always makes things hard. especially if you’re playing shows every night with the person you love. the man sighs and sits next to her. “don’t worry about me. get some sleep,” he whispers and kisses her temple.

before he can stand up, lucy grabs his arm. “can you stay with me? please.”

a soft smile sets on his lips. “of course.”

-

after landing in the next city, lucy calls her mom.

-

there are three knocks on his hotel room door. “luke?” her voice is soft. as if she’s embarrassed. she doesn’t want her mother’s words to haunt her. the man opens the door without his shirt. just sweatpants. he was probably gonna go to bed. she might as well ruin his night too. 

“hey.” there’s a small pause. “what’s up?” he steps aside so she can come in. the tv’s on in the background and there’s a tray with an empty plate and a glass of tequila, just resting on his nightstand. 

lucy nods her head and walks inside. “i wanna talk.”

“okay…”

“about us.”

-

Love Is All Around: It’s Insta-Official

Two months ago, the You Don’t Go To Parties Tour hit the stage. And last night, Lucía Huerta and Luke Hemmings provided some much-needed proof of their romance. “Ten months with you feel like a second. Magic. I love you.”

-

lucy sighs as she reads the article.

“are you okay?” luke asks her.

“yeah,” she replies. “just… scared, i guess.”

“it’s gonna be okay, love,” he kisses the top of her head and sits next to her on the sofa. “everything’s gonna be alright.” the dressing room is big and no one else is around. it’s noon.

tons of notifications have been hitting their phones for the past fourteen hours. some are mean comments, others are encouraging words from fans. either way, it makes lucy anxious. “do you wanna get high?” she asks her boyfriend. maybe weed isn’t the solution to every problem ever, but it helps. 

the man smiles. “sure,” he says.

they go to the private parking lot of the venue. luke rolls a joint while lucy smokes a cigarette. she flicks the ashes onto the concrete, fidgeting her fingers around the cancer stick. luke isn’t the biggest fan of her smoking. and she's been smoking more as the days go by. but he understands she’s going through a lot, so he says nothing. he gets a text from calum, wondering where he and his girlfriend are. we’re gonna have lunch, join us? but the blond dismisses the message and lights the joint. he takes two hits before handing it to lucy. she brings it immediately to her lips, the slightly spicy smoke going down her throat smoothly. 

it’s so easy to talk to each other. sometimes. but their words have been stunted lately. they don’t know what the other’s thinking. and yes, last night they had a good conversation. but now what? does everything go back to normal now? how? they both feel anxious around each other, and that’s never ever happened before. they both hate it.

“what do you…”

“do you ever…”

they open their mouths simultaneously, quickly chuckling at the awkwardness of their interaction. lucy nods her head, letting him know that he can finish his thought.

luke smiles. “i was gonna ask you if you ever feel like… like things are going so good between us and suddenly we get so quiet and you worry? is that… is that something you feel?”

lucy smiles back. “yeah,” she says. “i don’t really know how to explain it. i mean, i love you. you know i really fucking love you, luke. but sometimes i worry we get too inside our heads. because i think we’re really similar like that. and i… i wanna be someone you can count on…”

“i want that too,” he replies. she hands him back the joint and he smokes some more.

“and sometimes i worry i’m not that someone you deserve,” she finally confesses.

it makes him sad to hear her say that, because there’s no better person for him than her. no one has made him feel this way before. the ups and downs seem to be heightened and it’s a beautiful way to live, he doesn’t want anyone else. there’s only room in his heart for this woman. this is the hardest he’s ever fallen in love, and he can’t imagine his life without her. a bit dramatic, but hey, that’s just who he is. “i don’t deserve anyone, lucy. i just want to be with you,” he says and takes her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “all the time. every single fucking day.”

the woman looks down at their hands. matching red nail polish and silver-colored rings. this is scary. it’s scary to love and need someone so much that you feel like you’d die if they ever left you. please, don’t leave me. ever. lucy sighs and squeezes his hand in hers. “right back at ya,” she smiles softly and looks up to find his baby blues staring at her with so much love in them that she can’t help the weakness she feels in her knees.

the silence is barely uncomfortable anymore. unlike the ones they’ve been experiencing for countless weeks now. it’s all out in the open. their love for each other burning brighter than ever. neither want this moment to end. and since there’s only one way to stop time, they lean into each other and kiss. it’s soft at first, like a goodnight kiss. and it escalates quickly to an i-never-wanna-be-without-you one. she grabs fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him closer to her body. luke places both hands on her face as his tongue traces her bottom lip. their eyes are red and their hunger is raw.

-

they can’t get to his hotel room fast enough. fuck having lunch with friends, they need to satiate this urge so they can go on for the rest of the day. “i want you so bad,” she whines against his throat, leaving wet and sloppy kisses along his jawline. he’s already big and leaking with precum, grinding his hips against hers. unhooking her bra, luke immediately buries his head between her breasts and she whines again. those beautiful sounds he can’t get enough of.

“ride me, babe. i wanna see these titties bounce,” he whispers against her skin. hands gripping her hips. bulge so hard he feels like he’s gonna explode. they’re naked and he already has a condom wrapping his shaft. lucy bites her lower lip and lines him against her slit. he’s throbbing in her hand and that drives her insane. the moan he drags out as she strokes him is paradise. The filthiest love they’ve ever experienced. Both always wanting to fuck each other. It’s her waist, it’s his broad shoulders. The way they move on stage, wanting to look sexy for the other. 

lucy sinks into his cock and lets out a whine, “fuuck.” his thick size feels so good. luke grabs her ass and spreads her cheeks open so he can penetrate her better. 

“you like that?”

“yes.” her mouth hangs open and her eyes roll to the back of her head. luke has always thought of her as his pretty little pornstar. even before they started dating, the way she danced with him at the club. her back pressed to his body as his hands rested on her hips and stomach. both sweaty and a bit embarrassed when they went back to the booth with their friends. 

the woman, as per requested, starts bouncing on his cock. titties moving up and down. “fuck, girl.”

-

“is it better to feel this or feel nothing at all?”

ever since the news got out about their relationship, lucy’s been a mess. interviewers can be assholes. they suddenly stopped asking about her music, her achievements. all they wanted to know about was her clothes and her boyfriend. like everything she worked for just disappeared in the blink of an eye.

she lays on her side on the hotel bed after playing a festival in latin america. luke spoons her, holding her close to his body. he doesn’t know what to say. he’s surprised by the outcome. hadn’t expected people to diminish her work, to ignore she just played the 6 pm slot, which is a hard spot to get. you need a lot of people to stay for the whole set. and she’d killed it. 

“i don’t understand what happened,” luke sighs against her neck and squeezes her tighter. “i’m really sorry.”

lucy closes her eyes, feeling a bit less anxious with him. “it’s okay. the industry’s fucked up.”

“yeah,” he chuckles weakly. “it is.”

-

“so it’s true? you and luke are engaged?”

the questions about her relationship don’t seem to cease. even a year later. they go together to events and people seem to be more excited about them together than their work. it’s annoying, but what are you gonna do? “yeah, we are,” lucy smiles. “we’re also dropping a new song together next month.”

“ooh, tell us about it.”

lucy has become good at deflecting. luke taught her that. 

-

“how was the interview?” luke asks after he greets his fianceé with a kiss and hands her a cup of coffee from her favorite shop.

“it was alright,” lucy shrugs. it’s definitely been a learning experience, dodging questions about her personal life. but luke has been so supportive and sweet throughout the whole thing. she’s grateful to marry her man in six months. “how was the recording session?” she asks as she sips the hot beverage.

the blond had written things throughout the tour. enough things to make an ep. “it was good,” he smiles softly.

-

the song luke and lucy release is a hit. a 90s-inspired track with her raspy vocals and his whiny ones make for an interesting texture that captures hearts everywhere. they play it on several shows, the crowds go insane every time.

a month later, lucy releases her second album. it's a hit. she's invited to play festivals and there are rumors of a grammy nomination.

"here's to my girl," luke smiles as he raises a glass of wine in front of her and their friends. "she showed the world she's a powerhouse, an amazing songwriter and performer. she's the best thing that's ever happened to me and i'm so proud of you." his gaze sets on lucy, who's blushing like crazy and smiling like an idiot. "i really fucking love you."

"right back at ya," the woman grins and stands up from the table to kiss her man. everyone cheers.

the night goes by fast. the celebration turns into a party in luke and lucy's new place in west hollywood. but the couple soon disappears into their shared bedroom. fucking until the sun comes up and their friends leave.

luke pants as his orgasm washes over him. "fuck," he breathes out, collapsing next to her on their bed.

"yeah," lucy chuckles. her body is sweaty and she wraps an arm around his torso as she snuggles up to him. looking up at his face, the man's glistening. he's the most beautiful man. he's got the biggest heart and he's never been jealous or threatened by her successes. she appreciates that. "wanna eat me out?" lucy smirks, her leg now over his, her wet pussy making contact with his thigh and she grinds into him.

"give me a second," luke lets out a soft laugh. "you really wore me out. my pretty slutty angel." he strokes her hair, hand soon trailing down to her ass. a small slap to it that makes her bite down on her lip. "okay, come on. legs spread, i'm diving in," he grins.

she does what she's told. opening her legs so luke can attach his lips to her swollen clit and start licking her folds. so sloppy. so fucking nasty. lucy groans as her breath hitches. "you're so good."

he smirks against her entrance before exploring her walls with his tongue. so fucking skilled.

-

grammy nominations announcement. luke and lucy's song gets one for song of the year. her album gets one for album of the year. they're ecstatic. it's all happening.