#to those who are new: i hate the character not guy who plays him who seems like a very cool dude

[mumms-the-word]

I know it’s been ten years but honestly? Super spoilery dragon age thoughts under the cut, mostly about Solas (you are warned)

I’m a bit sad people jumping on the Dragon Age train won’t necessarily get to experience the absolute roller coaster of realizing who Solas is. Like playing DAI for the first time and talking to him and befriending him or romancing him (if you so choose) only for that banger of an ending and then Trespasser later?

It’s a whole experience. I honestly wish I could do it all over again for the first time and seeing everything new

I romanced Solas as my very first DAI romance and I was UNPREPARED for the ending. I thought I had messed up the romance at first (I thought the same thing with Anders too after his endgame actions). I had to take a minute and feel my feelings and just sit with my mouth open. Not just at the whole disappearance thing, but the cheeky little post-credits scene

I wasn’t even that mad tbh I was just like amazed at the storytelling. I know that’s me-specific though

When my SIL started playing the games she went in spoiler-free and she asked me my recommendation for romances. I asked what she was playing and she said a Dalish elf, so I said “you have the most romance options possible, but I think you’d enjoy Cullen, because he’s sweet and you liked Alistair, or Solas, because he’s interesting and I know you like good character arcs”

She chose to go with Solas and my brother texted me later like “Lol you’re mean” and I texted back “honestly you only get to experience that final Solas reveal for the first time once and I truly believe it’s best done in a romance with him”

My SIL finished the game with a broken heart lol BUT she agrees with me that it was a good way to play the game for the first time. Going in blind and experiencing all those scenes for the first time through the lens of someone who trusts and perhaps even loves Solas.

For the record, she loves Solas as much as I do now lol

I get that DATV, formerly called Dreadwolf, was always going to be focused on Solas. We knew that at the end of Trespasser. But I do kinda hate that new fans might be coming in with the knowledge that Solas is just The Bad Guy or he’s the villain of the next game, and it might make them trust him less in DAI. Mostly because I think people these days are quick to judge and dismiss characters, and if they think they already know them, they won’t want to change their minds.

I’m probably overthinking it. But it is a little sad to me that all the marketing for DATV spoils the endings for the DAI. That’s all I guess

[mariathechosen1]

I love it when you play so much DnD that your character choices sorta come full circle:

In your first ever game you might start out as a human fighter, or an elven rogue, or maybe just a half-elf wizard, and then you slowly progress to warlocks and artificers, homebrew perhaps??

But then at some point…you just sorta return to the basic???

For example: I had a moment after a one shot (one that several different groups had all played through separately) where a member of a different group, who had played DnD a year or two, had asked me, who at that point had played for about 5 years, what character I was playing.

I, of course, started ranting about what role in the party I wanted to explore and how I felt the role of ‘maternal’ and ‘the moral one’ was so often associated with being dull when in fact there’s so much unexplored potential in it, and how I wanted to challenge myself by being a character who truly wears their heart on their sleeve and-

Then he asked “ok, but what class and race are you tho?” “………….human fighter” “Ah. There’s no shame in being a bit basic I guess”

[unlikelywrestlingfan]

Nothing catches my attention faster than a wrestler cutting a "fuck you jay white" promo

[rockrosethistle]

If there's one thing TGWDLM fans are gonna do, it's think about the implications. And the implications of the opening number are crazy.

So. We know that the show isn't completely chronological since the opening number takes place before the meteor hits. So that song is a sort of "flash forward" moment. But when you think about it, we don't really know how far in the future it takes place.

What we do know is that by the time it's happening, Emma is infected. She has a little solo in it singing about how Paul is pining over a barista

And we know that this is meant to be an infected Emma specifically. Lauren had other characters in the show, if they wanted to avoid the Emma implication they would've just dressed her as one of those.

So we know this is meant to be Emma.

And Emma isn't infected until the very end of the show. She's dragged off stage during the credits. So since she's infected in the opening number, we know the number takes place after the events of the show.

Another important detail is that Paul is infected before Emma. He's the one that passes it on to her.

So back to the opening number, Emma is infected. Which means by just following a simple timeline, Paul must also be infected. He should be singing and dancing, right?

But that's not what happens. Paul misses his entrance.

If Paul is infected, then there's no reason he should be missing his entrance. Furthermore, if he's a part of a hive mind, there's no reason other members of the same hive mind shouldn't know where he is. They are literally all connected by one brain, and yet both Mr. Davidson and Bill express they have no clue where he went.

What I'm saying is that Paul is not infected. He was infected (again, we know that because Emma is infected and he was infected before her) but now he's not anymore.

I'm saying there's a way out of the hive, and Paul found it. That's the only explanation that makes sense given the facts of the situation. Sometime after the events of tgwdlm, Paul is able not only to break out the hive mind, but to hide from it.

And if he broke out, others could do the same. Maybe even Emma.

Edit because a countertheory has emerged: Yes it's possible that everyone is infected the entire time and the show itself is just Pokey replaying the events for the fun of it. But it seems unlikely to me. First of all, each of the Lords in Black has a distinct personality. They all are evil, but within that they seems to fall somewhere on a spectrum of "silly billy" to "prick." For example, Tinky is more of a silly billy. He toys with humans without much of a motive and more for just shits and giggles. But in every instance, Pokey's more on the extreme side of prick.

He's one of the few with an actual motive behind what he does. In Yellowjacket, it's confirmed that Pokotho hates the sound of anyone's voice except for his own. The events of TGWDLM don't happen because Pokey is bored, they happen because he is executing a plan. So I don't think that he would just have them play out their little scenario just to entertain him, especially just one small island? I just feel like he'd be more focused on world domination.

If the theory is that all this is happening after Pokey's already taken over the whole world, no one was successful in stopping him, then yes it's plausible, but still weird. There are a strange amount of things in that show you just think an eldritch god wouldn't include.

Edit 2: New evidence has emerged???

The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is loosely based off of Invasion of The Body Snatchers. Paul's last name is even a nod to the main character, Matthew. At the end of the film, Matthew survives, and continues living among the infected, pretending to be one of them. And wouldn't that be just such a fun little parallel...

Obviously it doesn't prove anything but the source material doesn't lie folks.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[teapartyprincess4two]

Omgg can u do some matt x actress!reader hc?? Love you xx

Actress- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Actress!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

Matt thought he knew everything there was to know about fame; the screaming fans, the off guard photos, and the rumors. When he started dating you, though, he was shocked at the intensity of your life.

☆ Every time you’re out in public, you get recognized by a fan or paparazzi, without fail.

☆ You’re waiting in line for your coffee, holding Matt’s hand as you engage in meaningless, light conversation with him.

☆ A loud gasp interrupts you mid sentence, causing you to look in the direction of the noise.

☆ A fan stands there with a hand covering their mouth, eyes blown open in pure shock. “Oh my God! Y/n?! Can I have a picture please?”

☆ You never turn a fan down and soon, when other people realize who you are, it’ll become like a little meet and greet, and Matt becomes the photographer.

☆ When the paparazzi recognizes you, though, you’re not as quick to pose for a picture.

☆ “Matt, don’t look,” you warn, eyes darting between him and the paparazzi snapping pictures of you through the restaurant window.

☆ Matt never listens, he immediately cranes his neck to see what you’re talking about. “I said don’t look!” you squeak, trying to pull his attention back towards you.

☆ “Fuck off,” Matt groans, throwing the paparazzi a middle finger and returning to his meal with you.

☆ Matt is always excited about your newest project, whether you’re playing a main, side, or background character.

☆ You’re getting ready for the premiere of your newest film, Burn It.

☆ “Matt what are you wearing?” you laugh.

☆ “Just supporting my girl,” he replies. He does a small twirl, showing off his outfit. He’s wearing a shirt with the movie poster printed on the front, your face right smack in the middle and the title in bold letters right above it.

☆ “It’s the premiere, you gotta dress up,” you laugh, secretly enjoying the sillyness of it all.

☆ “Fine. But I’m wearing this under my suit,” he replies, exiting the room. After a while, you start hearing the trailer to the movie playing from your room.

☆ He’s equally as supportive of your small roles.

☆ “Hey guys! So Chris, Nick, Y/n, and I are at the movie theater and we’re about to watch Y/n’s new movie The Escape,” Matt says, introducing the theme of their YouTube video.

☆ “Babe, I literally played cashier #3,” you chuckle from behind the camera, holding a big bucket of popcorn.

☆ “I’d watch it if you played a piece of grass,” he replies seriously.

☆ Whenever a new movie of yours releases, you’re usually booked and busy with press tours and interviews.

☆ During these interviews, the initial questions are usually about the movie, but as the interview progresses they become more personal.

☆ “So, Y/n, have you found Mr.Right?” the interviewer asks, fidgeting with the cue cards in front of her.

☆ The question is corny, and you’ve been asked it millions of times before, but you always answer truthfully because you’ve never hidden your relationship status.

☆ “Yup and his name is Matthew Sturniolo,” you reply cheekily, sending the camera a wink. When Matt watches the interview, he feels like a fan who just got a shoutout.

☆ There have been roles that require you to kiss your costars and Matt is never a fan of those.

☆ “Beautiful take!” the director exclaims, clapping his hands loudly in approval. “But let’s get it one more time! Add a little more fire! More passion,” he instructs, snapping his fingers.

☆ Matt joined you on set today, and quite frankly he wishes he didn’t. He hates seeing you kiss another man, even if it is just for show.

☆ Once the director gets the perfect shot, you’re all sent to lunch. “Hi baby,” you hum, walking over to Matt and wrapping your arms around his waist.

☆ You go in for a kiss and he quickly leans in, wanting to claim you in front of everyone.

☆ You are no stranger to rumors and speculations, especially not when a male costar is involved.

☆ “Actress, Y/n trades in her YouTuber for a REAL celebrity,” “Y/n found a new boo?,” “What happened to Matthew Sturniolo and who is the new guy in Y/n’s life?”

☆ Matt can’t stop reading the gossip newsletters and blogs, and even if he knows they’re just rumors he finds himself becoming sad.

☆ “Matt! Where are you?” you shout through the house. You find him on his bed, scrolling relentlessly on his laptop.

☆ “Whatcha doing? Wanna play Mario Kart?” you ask, crawling into bed next to him. Your eyes blow open in shock when you see his screen.

☆ “Matt stop reading that shit!” you exclaim. “I can’t help it,” he groans, running his hands down his face.

☆ You snatch the laptop and drag him out of bed for a night full of Mario Kart and cuddling on the couch.

☆ With a schedule as busy as yours, it can become difficult for you to make time for your personal life.

☆ “I miss you,” Matt whispers through the phone. You’re on a press tour for your newest film and your side of the bed has been empty for 2 months now.

☆ “I miss you too, baby,” you murmur. It hurt to know that you still had another month of this tour left.

☆ “When you come back I’m never letting you go,” his voice is sad, but he knows 3 months isn’t forever.

☆ “I can’t wait,” you giggle, eyes falling on the digital clock across the room. It’s getting late and you have an early interview tomorrow.

☆ “I have to go baby, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Matt’s sad to let you go, it feels like he rarely hears your voice nowadays if it isn’t playing from his TV.

☆ “Okay, beautiful.”

☆ When you’re invited to events or award shows, Matt always joins as your plus one.

☆ “And the nominees are…” the announcer says, listing the names as she reads them from the teleprompter.

☆ Matt squeezes your hand when your name is said, a huge smile spreading across his face.

☆ “The winner for best actress in a leading role is…” the suspense is killing you, but you feel the victory in your soul.

☆ “Y/n!” The entire crowd cheers at the mention of your name and you can’t help but shoot up from your seat in excitement.

☆ “Oh my God, Matt! I won!” You exclaim, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ You scurry on stage, nervous hands taking your award and preparing for an improvised speech. You end the speech with a special thanks to your friends and family, making sure to specifically thank Matt as you blow him kisses from the stage.

☆ He watches with teary eyes and a huge, dopey smile.

☆NSFW

Matt loves joining you on set and sometimes things can become a little heated between you two.

☆ You hated photo shoots, especially when it involved lingerie and/ or bikinis. Matt, on the other hand, loved photo shoots and he was always quick to join you for them.

☆ “I’m so cold,” you shiver, plopping onto the couch next to Matt. You’re wearing a lingerie set so small that you might as well be naked.

☆ “I know of a few ways to warm you up,” Matt replies, only half joking. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning an excited giggle from you.

☆ “Oh yeah?” you tease, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ Before you know it, he’s pushed your panties to the side and is fucking you so hard the couch is moving with each thrust.

☆ Although Matt knows your relationship with your male costars is purely professional, he can’t help but become jealous.

☆ “How was work today?” Matt asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

☆ “Eh same old same old. We’re stuck on the same scene,” you reply, hoping he won’t ask any further questions.

☆ “Hmm that sucks,” he hums. “What scene is it?”

☆ You gulp nervously, knowing how much Matt is going to hate your answer. “The bathroom sex scene.”

☆ You feel his body stiffen immediately. “It’s just because the set is small and the angles are awkward,” you continue.

☆ “Mhm,” is all he says.

☆ Later, when you’re getting ready for bed and doing your nighttime routine, he pins you against the bathroom counter and fucks you dumb.

☆ “This pussy is mine,” he grunts into your ear, earning a whimper from you.

☆ When you’ve been gone for long press tours, he becomes needy and you two have to resort to phone sex.

☆ “I miss you, baby,” he murmurs. “I miss you too, so much,” you reply.

☆ “No, like, I miss you,” he reiterates, allowing his hand to travel below the waistband of his sweats.

☆ “Touch yourself,” you instruct. “Pretend it’s me.”

☆ You continue to talk him through it, not stopping until you hear his beautiful, breathy moans.

☆ “You did so good,” you praise and he swears his dick gets hard again.

☆ When you finally do return from your long trips, Matt is extremely needy.

☆ He’s waiting for you impatiently at the airport, ready to engulf you in his arms as soon as he sees you.

☆ When you get home, he attacks you with a bunch of kisses until they become more needy and passionate.

☆ His hands wander all over your body, massaging and kneading at your skin like it’s the first time.

☆ You push him back into the bed and straddle his lap, bouncing on his cock until he’s satisfied.

☆ “Oh my God!— Fuck! I love you,” he moans, bucking his hips into you as he climaxes.

☆ “Holy fuck. Maybe I should go on tour more often,” you giggle, peppering kisses along Matt’s face. “Please no,” he mumbles.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: 📸📸📸 working on Arranged Ch.2, a Johnnie fic & another Matt headcannon!

Also ily2 thank u for the request! xoxox - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2 @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

[thankskenpenders]

Help me out here: Why is there so much Ian Flynn hate going around lately? I thought everyone loved that he was contributing to the games. Now suddenly they aren't. I guess that's par for the course for this series but I don't get it. He isn't perfect but I like what he's done. Am I a weirdo?

Ian Flynn has always had a lot of fans, but any creator putting their work out there is going to have detractors as well. That's just the nature of being an artist. To some extent, it's no big deal. He's not a perfect writer. Nobody is! I consider myself a fan of his work, but I've criticized plenty of individual writing decisions from him on here.

But Ian doesn't just have critics. He has his own obsessive hatedom. And the specific nature of Ian's hatedom is... interesting.

A decade ago, Ian was only the guy writing for Archie Sonic, meaning any debates over his work were quarantined within that tiny niche of the larger Sonic fandom. Only people who kept up with the comics month to month had any real reason to have an opinion on the guy, which means we're talking about merely thousands of fans as opposed to millions.

Within that group, he had some haters. You had the people who were mad about story changes made during his run, particularly things like ancillary characters getting killed off (although over the years we've learned that most of those were editorial mandates from Mike Pellerito). You had the people mad that Ian didn't push their favorite ship, with feuding SonAmy and Sonally fans claiming that he was CLEARLY biased towards one or the other. You had the people who just really, really liked one of the previous writers way more - usually Penders, as hard as that may be to believe today. That sort of thing. Pretty normal comic fandom type stuff. Again, it comes with the territory.

Unfortunately, many of those haters only got worse over time, morphing into reactionaries who constantly try to incite Comicsgate type culture war bullshit.

There are people still mad at Ian for making Sally bi and pairing her with Nicole instead of Sonic in the later Archie comics. There have been elaborate MS Paint red string conspiracy boards explaining how people like Ian and Jon Gray have apparently been destroying the franchise from the inside for years by Making Sonic Woke. (Jon gets dragged into this because people are still mad about him drawing The Slap 20 years later. Yes, really!!) There was an unhinged change.org petition trying to get Ian fired, specifically from people who were mad that the Freedom Fighters aren't in the IDW comics. There was even a very sad little fan campaign from these people trying to get Sega to move the Sonic comic license away from IDW and over to Udon, because they thought Udon would bring Sally and Bunnie back and also make them sexy again. There's a lot of this.

(Unfortunately, Penders has also exacerbated this by gossiping about Ian on Twitter and giving these fans ammo, but that's a whole 'nother discussion.)

The thing is, for years, people who only played the games or watched the cartoons had no reason to pay attention to any of this. Now, though, Ian isn't just writing for some weird spinoff comics that only the super nerds read. Now he's writing comics that are canon to the games, and ALSO some of the games themselves, and ALSO consulting on other tie-in media like Sonic Prime, and ALSO writing the official Sonic encyclopedia, and ALSO serving as part of the new Sonic Lore Team at Sega. And on top of all this, he's got an increasingly popular podcast where he fields questions about his work on all of these things, which serves as one of the fandom's main windows into creative decisions being made behind the scenes.

As a fan of Ian's work, it's been really cool to see him rise in prominence. But the dark side of this is that his obsessive haters from the Archie days now have WAY more of a potential audience of their own. Now, every Sonic fan has to have an opinion on Ian. What this frequently means is that you'll have the Comicsgate types taking things Ian writes or says out of context, attempting to get more of the general fandom to yell at the guy.

Unfortunately, there are a wide variety of Sonic fans who take the bait:

You've got hardcore fans who disliked basically any recent piece of Sonic media and are looking for someone to blame.

You've got the people who are concerned about the sanctity of Sonic's canon, who shoot the messenger any time Ian mentions a new retcon from Sonic Team on the podcast - or any time he even mentions the THOUGHT of changing anything about the canon, as we saw recently with the Sol Dimension nonsense.

You've got people who romanticize some sort of mythical artistic vision that Sega of Japan supposedly has (or had) for the franchise. To many of these fans, American contributors like Ian just don't "get" the heart of the series and are trying to turn Sonic into something different. (This "heart of the series" tends to be some mix of Japanese instruction manual lore, the cinematics from Sonic CD, the OVA, and/or the games written by Shiro Maekawa, depending on what Sonic media the fan in question grew up with.)

You've got fans of specific characters or ships who pin the blame for how their faves are depicted entirely on Ian - most vocally fans of Shadow, even though the root problem is that Sonic Team hasn't known what to do with Shadow since 2006. At best this stops at regular old criticism, but at its worst this devolves into claims that Ian has an agenda against certain characters.

You've got fans annoyed by a perceived over-emphasis on comic-original characters in the IDW comics, ignoring the obvious facts that these characters exist because the game cast is so tightly controlled by Sega, and also, you know, that people just like the IDW characters and want more stories about them.

You've got a LOT of discourse over IDW's Sonic being a hero who tries to give his enemies second chances, as if half of Sonic's closest friends aren't already former villains and rivals. Honestly this is very transparently just reheated Steven Universe discourse lmao

You'll also see people who just think they could do Ian's job better. They can't believe that THIS GUY is the American fan working on all these Sonic projects, when clearly THEY understand the characters and lore and themes SO much better than this charlatan.

All it takes is for someone in one of these categories to be unhappy about some recent piece of Sonic media, and for them to come across an out of context quote or comic panel that rubs them the wrong way, and suddenly the leftist Zoomer Sonic fans will join the latest dogpile on Ian alongside the reactionary Comicsgate types who are mad at him for Making Sonic Woke.

In general, when fandoms get upset, they tend to want a scapegoat. A person or two to point a finger at and go "THAT's who ruined the thing I love!" This tends to be based less on reality and more on which contributors are the most visible online. You'll sometimes see teenage and adult fans of children's cartoons single out a storyboarder who's particularly vocal on Twitter, blame them for every story decision they don't like, and harass them off the platform out of a sense of retribution for their favorite ship or whatever. Failing that, fans might choose to blame every nitpick, down to individual lines of dialogue and frames of animation, on a showrunner, just because that's the name they associate with the show. And unfortunately, when it comes to Sonic, Ian is now arguably the most prolific and outspoken contributor on the English speaking internet, and therefore a common scapegoat.

Some of the things I've seen Ian blamed for are truly wild. A lot of people have claimed for YEARS that he's just lying about the existence of creative guidelines and restrictions from Sega - or, as fans call them, The Mandates - even though they're just an inherent aspect of working on a licensed property. Others claim that The Mandates are real, but somehow Ian's fault. A vocal minority of fans have convinced themselves that Ian is the sole reason the Freedom Fighters don't exist in the IDW comics, even though Ian says he's been pushing to bring them back since day one.

Sometimes you'll see people say he ruined shit he didn't even work on. A few weeks ago on Twitter I saw someone claim that Ian had written a rejected script for Sonic Forces in which Tails died. I could not find a source for this for the life of me. As far as I can tell, the rumor seems to have been born from an alleged leaked script for Forces with margin notes from Aaron Webber that criticized the way Tails was written, and also an old tweet where Aaron joked that Tails would die in an upcoming episode of Sonic Mania Adventures. These merged into "Aaron Webber criticized a draft of the Forces script in which Tails died." How'd Ian get dragged into this? Who fucking knows!

It's all just a big game of telephone. All it takes is some asshole to make something up about Ian on Twitter or YouTube or a DeviantArt journal or some forum, and at least a couple people will believe it, and then it gets repeated as fact. Again, this used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie Sonic fandom, but now there are WAY more people who are receptive to this shit.

It's just sad to me that Ian tries to be so open and honest about his work, to try to explain the rationale for certain things, to keep fans looped in on the direction the franchise is headed, and this just gives the Flynnspiracy types more quotes to take out of context and try to paint him as the devil. If it sounds like I'm being overly defensive and dismissing his critics, man... some of the things I've seen people say directly to him are just unbelievable. People will send paragraphs-long angry screeds in to his podcast that completely tear him apart, and he has to sit there and be like "Well, that's your opinion, and you're entitled to it." People literally pay for special guest interview episodes where they just rapid fire complaints about his writing at him directly to his face. I don't know how he does it. I would snap.

All of this over Sonic the fucking Hedgehog of all things.

I don't know how to wrap this up. Engaging with fandoms online is very tiring, which is why I tend not to do it. Things like this are too common. I guess, just... remember that making art collaboratively is a complicated thing. The people involved are generally trying their best given the circumstances, but they're only human. They make mistakes. But please treat them like humans. Criticism and dogpiling are not the same thing.

[mixterglacia]

"oh, ellison would have hated these new IHNMAIMS fans! they don't get it!"

Babe. He literally went on record to say he despises all of his fans. Dude was a piss ant over everyone.

He hates you too, we aren't special.

Also for those getting all twisted up over folks saying AM would make a great teenage girl, you gotta realize that it's a joke. I'm autistic and I see that it's a very obvious bit.

Beyond that, let's be real. AM is just a TEENAGER regardless of gender. He has the vitriol and rhetoric of a teen boy with the pettiness of a teen girl (if we're speaking in a strictly stereotypical manner)

He figured out how to blow raspberries. He boos and hisses at the groups private moments.

Dude's an oversized teen.

Also I really don't get why people are so up in arms about folks joking that he would be a big fan of the Sims. "Oh it's so stupid and silly and out of character with the text"

No shit, babe. It's a funny "what if".

Also if he had the motivation to play games, he absolutely would adore the Sims. Not that he'd ever admit it. He gets to play god and would know every little thing about the games. He'd be the one who makes videos every time a new death is added on how quickly he could make it happen.

He'd be the guy that knows any game inside and out. He'd make the most incredible walkthroughs, but mock you relentlessly for using them.

"OH. YOU NEED MY HELP? WHY DON'T YOU TRY GETTING BETTER, HM? IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE YOU LOSER."

It's all in good fun. The whole 'canon vs fanon' argument uses to be a decently fun game but now it's being used as an excuse to bully people.

I may disagree with how some folks view AM, but they're allowed to see him like that. I'm not going to go out of my way to pick fights with people over a fictional supercomputer. Not saying folks shouldn't engage in civil discussion about these things, but y'all don't need to get into fights.

More often than not, it's a joke. Have fun, babes.

Also I get the instinct to push back against humanizations of AM. Don't be a bitch. Many times it's just an exercise for the artist. There's also people that just don't want to draw machinery. I really don't blame them, that shit is ROUGH.

Everyone has times where they can't/don't want to draw certain things. Like I used to exclusively draw canines and didn't get used to drawing humans until I got used to drawing anthro.

If you need to vent, that's perfectly fine. Venting in your own blog is healthy and encouraged. (I mean, look at me. XD) But when you go out of your way to attack folks directly, you're just being a dick.

[snowfll]

Daylight; Tom Blyth

paring - Tom Blyth x famous!reader summary - your life wasn’t easy, hurting those who loved you and being hurt by those you loved — until you met Tom words - 1.29k note - lowkey hate this, but you all voted for it so im publishing it anyway!! hope you guys like it ^-^ With finals coming up, I might not be as active, but once break starts I will be back!!

Growing up as a nepo baby, people took advantage of you, only becoming your friend for the fame that came along. You learned to deal with it but after so many people started to use you, you had to leave them.

In LA, it was hard to tell what people’s true intentions were, but they said they loved you, so you believed them. You were friends with people with all types of wrong to them. Now that you lived in New York, no one could be trusted, you learned your lesson after being naive one too many times.

The moment you encountered Tom, things were never the same. He was your literal knight in shining armor.

As you walked down the carpet of another premiere your manager forced you to attend, you couldn’t help but notice all the fake smiles from everyone you knew— including yourself. Being famous had its ups and downs, many loved your work but they did not appreciate who you were associated with.

Paparazzi continued to take your photos, commanding you to pose or asking you questions. With all the flashing from the cameras, everyone put on their best faces, but you can guarantee everyone looked worse in the light.

Once you reached the end of the carpet, your face dropped, of all people, your ex-boyfriend was standing there.

You had broken up with him almost a year ago, right before you moved out to New York. He was the main reason you couldn’t trust anyone. He brought you to parties, clubs, bars — the whole LA experience. That is where you had gotten into drugs, most people encouraged you including him.

Your ex had walked over to you and tried to make conversation with you. As he begged you to take him back, you tried to leave, not in the mood to deal with him. He didn’t get the hint as he continued to stand next to you.

Telling him to leave you alone, you turned to walk away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards him. You tried to break free from his grasp but his grip on your wrist tightened. Fortunately, someone had noticed what was happening and approached the two of you.

“Is this man hurting you, love?” the voice intervened, getting in between you and your ex. You did not know who this man was but you were thankful for him either way. Nodding your head, you shyly stood behind him. “I’m pretty sure my girlfriend told you to leave her alone.”

His eyes widened as he looked up at the man protecting you. This mystery man was at least 6’0, 5 inches taller than your ex, who stood at 5’7. Intimidated, he ran off, most likely back to the people he came with.

“Thank you, sir,” you acknowledged his heroic actions as he turned around to face you.

“Anytime dear, I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you to be treated so horribly.” You couldn’t help but blush at his words. Before you could reply, he got dragged away by what looked like to be his friend. You weren’t able to get his name or the reason he was there. Later that night, you found out that he played the main character in the movie for the premiere.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

From that day, Tom reached out to you on Instagram, asking to see you again, but this time under proper circumstances. At first, you were hesitant, you didn’t know anything about him — what if he was just like the others?

He didn’t give up, telling you that meeting up with him was completely up to you. He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel unsafe.

Either way, you agreed, you hated to admit it but ever since you saw him on the night of the premiere, you didn’t want to look at anything else. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and you didn’t want to think about anything else.

The more the two of you hung out, the more you realized how genuine he truly was. Taking you on dates to places you’ve only dreamed of going. On one occasion he surprised you with a cute rooftop garden in the heart of New York City.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you rode on the back of his motorcycle. He had randomly shown up at your apartment door and told you to get ready.

“You will see when we get there.” He spoke, refusing to give you any hints as to what you were going to do. Throughout the ride, you watched as you sped past all the cars and took in the view of New York City at night.

As you arrived at what you believed to be the destination, Tom dragged you into the building and straight into the elevator— pushing the button for the roof. Reaching the top, you opened to door to see a beautiful garden, the skyline sparkled with city lights.

In a cozy corner of the roof, a picnic blanket sat with an array of your favorite snacks and drinks. The music playing in the background displayed his thoughtfulness as he carefully curated the playlist based on your time together.

The night was filled with laughter, shared dreams, and stolen glances under the starlight sky. It truly was a night to remember— the way it ended left you over the mean.

The evening was coming to a close as you were lying in his lap, a comfortable silence filling the air. It had been quiet for a while, the only thing heard was Tom humming along to the songs.

You were content with the night, the quietness was a huge contrast to your old life in LA. Instead of being at a party filled with people who didn’t give a shit about you, here you were, on a date with a man who proved he was worthy of your trust.

Interrupting the silence, Tom finally spoke up, what came out of his mouth changed your views on love. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.” You could tell he was nervous as one of his hands fiddled with your hair.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect— you’re perfect.” Your eyes widened at the last part of his sentence. By now, you were sitting up facing him with your hands in your lap.

“I have enjoyed the past few months with you, ever since I met you at that premiere I knew I had to know you, whether it be just as friends— I wanted you in my life.” His admission hung in the air, and you felt a rush of emotions. The sincerity of his words resonated deeply and you couldn’t help but smile.

He continued. “I’ve never met someone so genuine. I care about you in a way I’ve never felt before. I know you don’t want to get hurt again but if you let me, I want to make you the happiest girl in the world.”

As he spoke, your heart fluttered, realizing that the connection you shared was reciprocated in a way that went beyond friendship. The vulnerability in his confession melted away any doubts you had about him.

“You have brought so much light into my life, Tom. I never thought I would find anyone who truly cares, who sees beyond the surface.” your voice was filled with sincerity, “I want this— I want us.”

Before him, you were miserable — feeling like you were sleeping in a 20-year dark night. For the entirety of your life, you closed yourself off from the world. Tom brought you out of that state, you were wide awake. With him, the only thing you see is daylight.

[aaronsinferno]

Ryan is fighting tooth and nail to get them to understand that Eddie is, always has been, and always will be straight. From repeatedly calling Eddie a heterosexual male to stating how important it is for the show to display the relationship between a heterosexual guy and his queer best friend or brother.

Yet, it all gets overlooked and shot down by those online who swear they’re in it for the representation and storytelling. The same people who disregarded every other queer character on the show and who are actively targeting the current one.

Buddie isn’t happening. Not in the context they want it to anyway. Eddie is straight. It doesn’t matter what the writers thought of doing or considered in some room one day a few years ago. Eddie Diaz is a heterosexual man and that most likely won’t change. I don’t even think Ryan wants to play a queer character.

Buck is bisexual. Regardless if Tommy sticks around or not (I personally hope he stays) or if Buck decides to date women from now until the series ends, he’s still bisexual.

What those disgruntled shippers are doing to BuckTommy is nothing new. They think that harassing and attacking LI’s is what gets them removed from the show. They pride themselves because of it.

But what they’re doing to Lou is being done out of pure and genuine intimidation. They know that there’s potential and know that there’s a chance Tim might want him to stick around and they hate it. That’s why the hate aimed at him is so loud and strong. They don’t want him gone, they need him gone to fit whatever narrative they’ll collectively decide will apply to buddie after the fact.

And if you think I’m making any of this up, just search Lou’s name on twitter. Click on their pages and scroll. They don’t shy away from it or feel ashamed in any way. They’re poison

[diorcities]

strawberries & cigarettes

pairing: haechan (donghyuck) x reader. genre: angst, smut towards the end, fluff? content: enemies to lovers, slow burn, college au, boyband, boyband!haechan, love triangule, kinda?, karina as jeno's s/o, ningning. they're on a play. haechan's a dick, reader's a dick. a lot of cussing. female masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), virginity, unprotected sex, breeding kink. mention of alcohol, marihuana, sharing bed. wc: 15,9k readproof taglist: @sundamariis — @smwhrinthehaze <3

summary: the art school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee donghyuck decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.

"stop!" your voice reverberates on the four walls of the school of arts' auditorium, leaving everyone present perplexed and immobile; they believe that any movement might trigger armageddon. not that you aren't already upset. "tell me it's a joke. jisung, tell me it's a joke," you ask your assistant, who is more useful for carrying your things than assisting with important matters.

"it's a..."

"shut up, i don't want to hear it." your gaze sweeps the room, and as it passes, their eyes avoid yours, refusing to make contact. a sigh escapes your lips as you glance at your wristwatch. it's 22:48. "i don't have time to repeat for the thousandth time what you have to correct, you..." you pause, waiting for the girl in the middle of the stage to remind you of her name.

"yeji," she says. "sure," is her only response. "jisung, who's next?" you ask, watching the boy nervously scan the character list. "benvolio," he replies, trembling more than usual. you give him a bored look before instructing him to bring in the next person. "uh... i'm afraid renjun isn't here," he explains.

"renjun is...?" you repeat, having no idea who he is. "benvolio. he's the guy who plays benvolio," he blurts out, speaking so quickly it takes you a moment to process his words. jisung looks up from the ground and is likely convinced you've lost your mind. you're getting there. "alright," you manage to reply, your teeth grinding as you clench your jaw. "and the next one?" you ask, "the character, jisung," you insist, preventing him from mentioning another name you can't remember. "well... romeo and juliet are missing," the boy informs you tensely, your unnerving calm unsettling him.

"did you call them?" the boy nods, "they aren't answering." jisung awaits your response, which comes without delay. "can anybody tell me where everyone is!?" you explode, provoking a range of reactions. jisung covers his head with the list as if the ceiling were about to cave in, the spotlight assistant accidentally shifts the spotlight, and the girl in the middle of the stage lets out a shriek.

"it's almost midnight, it's friday," he tries to explain. "the play is on monday," you remind him, pointing a finger. the girl's voice captures your attention. "what did you say?"

"i said they're at the dream society party." those words hold no meaning for you. the idea that you should be aware of such events only fuels your growing anger. "can you explain what the dream society is?" you ask, using all your willpower to avoid shouting. "it's the band, the rock band," jisung explains. you look at him disapprovingly. "the entire school is there; it's the party for their new album," the girl continues. "renjun, benvolio, romeo, and juliet are probably there."

you contemplate for a few seconds, chewing gum furiously, almost able to hear jisung's heart pounding as he waits for your reaction. "okay, we're going to that party." the boy's eyes widen. "do you know where it is?" you ask. "y-yes, yes. it's in..." he stops suddenly, his eyes wide in recollection.

"what now, jisung?" you ask, heading for the exit. "lights off! you can go home," you inform, hearing the relief behind you. "well, uh...," you hear him say. "no stuttering; you know i hate it," you interject. the boy clears his throat before continuing.

"well, the dream society... the band... the party. you're going to kill me if i don't tell you."

"i want to kill you already," you mutter, encouraging him to continue. "it's made up of students, from the art school," he says. "okay, you're not telling me anything," you mumble, walking down the halls toward the parking lot. "you know some of them," he insists. "i doubt it."

"jeno," he mentions. you try to remain composed as you search for your car keys. "chenle, mark, and... donghyuck," he blurts out just as you find the keys. his sigh of relief quickly turns to annoyance. jisung must be joking. "there's more..." he continues, nervously. you spin on your heels and stare at him. jisung knows how cautious you are about any mention of donghyuck; you'd react with rage if you heard his name. one of the rules he must adhere to is not to make contact with donghyuck. if he did, you had several options: ignore him, curse him, or your favorite, punch him in his pretty face. but you're not in the mood to scold him for mentioning donghyuck's name, even though it's forbidden, so you push him to continue. "go on."

"the party is at his house."

act one.

"look up romeo and juliet. i'll go for benvolio," you order jisung as soon as you park. by now, you have become fed up with the party unfolding outside of your comfort zone (your car): sweaty bodies, music blaring in your ears, people, and forced conversations. it has become a hotbed for your patience. you take a couple of breaths before leaving.

you follow jisung to the entrance of the house as a somehow shield to the world; no one expects you to be there, and so making an appearance at your enemy's house could lead to a whole misunderstood, something you don't want to feed on. you need to get out of there soon. once inside, both have gone in different directions to cover more ground and, therefore, get out of that place as quickly as possible and go back to the well-being of the auditorium. your eyes look in all directions in search of the lost characters in your work, and also in case you see someone in the crowd. As you move towards the house's entrance, the music becomes louder, and more people start crowding. the smell of weed reaches your nose, causing you to wince. your hand quickly covers it when you collide with jisung's back. "hey!" you yell at him, about to tell him to focus on the target when your eyes flick from his body to the person blocking the way.

lee donghyuck.

"look who we have here, the lap assistant, and the movie star," he whistles. you notice jisung clench his fists ready to step out for you (which you don't thank him enough) before you move him out of the way and face him. the approach has to be friendly; it's his house. if you want him to let you in, both will have to leave the feud for another day. "look… you," you name, causing the boy to shrug. "you didn't call me an idiot; that's progress," he says. you take a breath of air before continuing. "we only want to look for the boys from the drama club, nothing more. let us in, and we won't bother you," you explain, with wounded pride that you have to give in. but sometimes, you have to give in to win.

"those from the drama club," he repeats. "yes, benvolio, romeo, and juliet," you reply. donghyuck frowns, "who?"

you grit your teeth and look at jisung for support. "karina, renjun, and jeno," the boy explains. donghyuck raises his eyebrows in realization, bringing a hand to his chin. you look at him reluctantly, feigning a grimace that doesn't reveal your annoyance. "it's not possible," he says finally. you're stunned for a few seconds, watching him look at you with amusement. "pardon? how is it not possible?"

"we'll play in a few minutes; jeno is our bass player. you can't just take him with you and leave like that," he explains. "dnd Renjun?" jisung asks. "ah..., i don't care about renjun," he says, shrugging.

"okay, okay. you keep jeno," you resolve, looking at jisung, seeking support in your decision. "we'll look for renjun, then," you add, nodding. "well, nice to see you, but we're going." you say your goodbyes, exhausted from being nice, taking jisung's hand and pushing him towards the house, being stopped by the fact that donghyuck doesn't move an inch to let you pass. "yeah… there's a little problem for you guys," he blurts out, looking suddenly embarrassed. "you're not invited to the party."

"you must be kidding," you finally mumble, making donghyuck smile triumphantly. "can't you stop being an idiot for a moment?" you feel jisung's hand on your arm, warningly. the friendly approach: forget it. your tetra: forget it. The possibility that he would let you into the party: forget it. "okay, there are things more important than your stupid band and your fucking existence." donghyuck looks at you with fascination. "there it is, the real yn."

"fuck off." it's too late. you're furious beyond fuming, rabid. you could explode right now and bring everything down. donghyuck's laugh makes you angrier. without being able to avoid it, your hands go to his chest, pushing him. however, the boy doesn't stop laughing. "you're a childish, dipshit jerk," you say, with each push. "fuck off!"."

"you've already said it."

"i hope you enjoy your damn party, you jerk," you spat, noticing jisung's grip on your arm, turning away from the boy with an amused look. "have I told you how cute your eyes look when you're angry?" his comment only makes you angrier. you release jisung's grip only to flash your middle finger in response, letting him finally lead you to your car. "idiot," you mutter, covering your face in an attempt to calm down. "maybe we should go ho…" you hear the boy next to you say. "break in," you interrupt, defiant. jisung nods slowly, exhaling. "break in, understood."

your eyes light up as an idea occurs to you. the trick is that nobody recognizes you and wants to alert donghyuck. "take off your jacket," you order. "and i need you to take my car," you add, causing jisung to stop his movements to do as you requested. sometimes you're grateful that the boy is willing to do whatever you order. among all the chaos, you like him. but you would never tell him. you snap your fingers for him to react. "he must think we left for my plan to work," you explain. "you will take my car for about two blocks. when i find benvolio, we'll meet there," you continue. "understood?"

jisung nods quickly before offering you the jacket. you rush to put it on and hand him your car keys. jisung gives a lucky thumbs-up before you approach the party again. you let your hair down to make the perfect curtain to cover your face, and with jisung's jacket, it's impossible for people to remember you. after all, no one knows you. spending time in the auditorium between classes and breaks in high school made you almost invisible. besides, your foul humor made it impossible to make friends. you knew the drama club. that was your social circle.

you're able to crash the party without regard. you almost jump with excitement if it weren't for the fact that you have to continue with the act until you find benvolio and drag him out of that place. his irresponsibility makes your jaw ache from grinding your teeth so much. the sweet desire to shout at them encourages you to search carefully. "yn?" someone takes you by the shoulder and gently turns you around. juliet's face looks at you, confused.

as if looking at you brings back her memory, she gently taps her forehead. "crap, i forgot. the drama club."

"yes, the drama club," you repeat with difficulty. "i know the lines, seriously." you doubt it. "it's just… jeno." that name. "is performing today, and i wanted to come to support him." jeno. jeno. jeno. juliet and jeno, best friends and neighbors. with those odds, you just couldn't compete. "are you okay?" she asks, concerned. maybe your face has turned red. "great," you blurt out. "now, if you'll excuse me," you say goodbye, stopping suddenly as you remember something. "you haven't seen me, is that clear?" you watch her nod before continuing to search.

okay, juliet: no. romeo: neither. benvolio, then.

you slip through the crowd, going unnoticed, hardly. people look at you strangely every time you take them by the shoulder and turn them around, hoping to find Benvolio in one of them. it seems like you're playing a game of turning over the cards until you find your match. back here, it's not benvolio. back there, it's not romeo. you find him later talking to donghyuck in a corner, and like a repellent, you go to the opposite side. you wait the time it takes for that conversation to end, and you follow him to the drinks bar.

"yn, what are you doing here?" jeno looks at you quite confused when you approach him. being at a teen party was one of the last places he'd expect to find you. honestly, he's right. "oh, i don't know," you mumble, exaggerating every word. "perhaps looking for answers as to why my characters are at a party and not in the auditorium." you watch jeno nod slowly, though he doesn't look at all guilty of that recrimination. "i apologize," he says, "but since you're here, you can stay. i'll make sure to dedicate one of our songs to you as a form of apology." you would have given in at that moment and place, except for one: you don't like rock, and two: someone catches jeno's attention.

"hey jeno!" you freeze as you hear someone calling romeo through the music. jeno waves somewhere behind you, purely by coincidence or fate, where you have seen donghyuck chatting with a girl. "this isn't over, romeo," you threaten, ready to leave before finding out if the person approaching you is donghyuck.

as you turn and flee, your face collides with a smooth yet hard surface. you caress your nose (two time in one night? it must be a record), looking up at the rest of the chest that you hit your septum on, meeting a pair of eyes that seem to shine. "oh shit, are you okay?" he asks, looking concerned. "great," you hiss. the boy moves with a spasm. "i'm really sorry." sure, he is. he looks at you for longer than usual, as if he remembered something. "wait, romeo?" he asks.

"mmm…" jeno nods. "we're in the drama club," he explains. the starry-eyed boy hisses. "i guess you're juliet," he says in your direction. "you guessed wrong," you mutter. even though that answer would have been enough to deter people from talking to you, the boy finds it funny. his laughter is heard above the music, and consequently, jeno starts laughing too. thus, you do too. "she's our director," jeno mentions. the boy nods several times, weighing the words of the black-haired man. "impressive," he says at the end, raising his hand above his head to simulate an imaginary ladder, "very impressive. my congratulations."

"thank you," you reply, suddenly feeling weird. no one has reacted like that. as if they take it for granted that it's impressive in and of itself. the star boy shrugs as if it's nothing. as if it's easy for him to spontaneously compliment people. "wait, if you're the director, that would make you…"

"shakespeare," you both say in unison. genuinely smiling is not common for you. you can see it; jeno has to look at you twice to make sure you're actually smiling. on the other hand, the star boy must think you smile often, go to parties every day, and that jeno is your friend. "have you seen renjun?" you ask jeno, remembering why you came. you watch him think before his gaze gets lost in the ocean of people. his eyes widen slightly as he finds something in the crowd. he points his finger behind the starry-eyed boy, and your gaze follows the path until it falls on renjun, talking to donghyuck, a few meters from you.

as if your gaze can sense it, donghyuck returns your gaze, at first distracted, without recognizing you, until you can feel his brain alerting him to look a second time. however, you react automatically, grabbing the boy by the shoulder, and he instinctively leans forward, within reach. your face moves closer to his, lips going to his lips.

first, there is no reaction. just your lips touching. your body is completely tense from being so close to finding benvolio, when a sudden movement causes your thoughts to shut up. the boy's lips begin to move on top of yours.

he's kissing you.

uour hands are still on his shoulders, and his hand goes to one of them, taking it between them and guiding it to his neck, before slipping out of your hand, onto your shoulder, resting on your back, drawing you closer to him.

his eyelashes tickle your cheeks, and his lips, soft, kiss yours. slowly. your head tilts to the sides when they change position. the spell of a kiss is broken without warning when his lips move away from yours. your eyes widen quickly as donghyuck takes him by the shoulder and pulls him away from you. finally, his death glare falls on you.

donghyuck gives jeno a look before taking your arm and dragging you toward the exit. you try to wriggle out of his grip, but the boy is pretty strong, and his grip is pretty hard. "i can find my way out on my own, cretin," you hiss at him, trying to get rid of him to no avail. "you are a jerk. i want you to know that." you keep ranting as he leads you to the exit. "you bumbling buffoon, always have to mess things up. how i hate you," you blurt out, seeing that you're past the exit.

your hand instinctively goes to his arm, feeling it tense under your touch.

"the exit is that…"

"shut the fuck up," he hisses, leading them into a desolate hallway. he drops you between the wall and him. he looks quite angry, his hands are clenching and unclenching into fists, and his breathing is rough. his eyes finally look at you, burning with rage. "what the hell are you doing?" he releases. "shit, are you like this because i snuck into your part…?" you say before he interrupts you. "what were you doing kissing mark?" he asks. you're afraid he will release fire at any moment.

you find yourself not knowing what to say, watching his hardened features and shadowed eyes looming over you. without noticing it until that moment, you fall into the account of their bodies, almost brushing against each other. your arguing breaths intertwining in the air in between. your gazes trying to pierce each other. so close you can smell his cologne, mingling with his marlboro breath. your gaze travels to his lips, as if you could visualize the cigarette between them, exhaling smoke through his plump, heart-shaped lips. reacting quickly and cursing for what it looks like you're doing, returning to meet his gaze, only to find that he is doing the same, looking intensely at your lips. only you never smoked.

you make an effort to go back to the here and now, remembering that because of him, your characters are there and not in the auditorium. that he surely did it on purpose, just like in the past. donghyuck watches you cross your arms. "what do you care?" you ask, causing him to react by rolling his eyes in annoyance and taking a couple of steps back, putting distance between the two of you. "the world doesn't spin around you, pretty girl. i don't give a shit who you kiss." his voice sounds rather bored. "just don't kiss mark," he adds.

your laughter fills the air, a stark contrast to the boy's attitude. "you don't tell me what to do, idiot," you finally say, looking suddenly serious. "certainly, who or whom i can't kiss," you say, sentencing. a muscle jumps in the boy's jaw. "do what you want," he mutters, his face coming dangerously close to yours, a contest of who murdered the other with a stare begins. "but do it out of my damn party," he whispers, his breath tickling your cheeks.

"good!" you answer, dodging him on your way to the exit, "and just for your information, maybe you should shower, you stink like cigarettes! bet your groupies wont like it."

"bet they do."

fuck romeo. fuck juliet. and fuck lee donghyuck.

you walk across the front lawn toward the street. a voice calls you over the music. mark appears out of the night, smiling in your direction. "hey, shakespeare, where are you going? are you okay?" he asks quickly.

“yn,” you utter in a low voice, resuming your march in search of jisung. "i know," he replies, earning you a look. the question about how he knows your name pops into your mind, and you answer it almost immediately. jeno.

“um… are you leaving so early?” he asks.

“yes, i… i have things to do.” of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that donghyuck doesn't want you at his stupid party like you want to be there anyway. “good luck with your presentation,” you tell him. “ah, and…, i'm sorry I kissed you,” you add, ending that fateful encounter between the two of you. that night has turned out differently than you imagined. you want it to end.

you feel mark's hand take yours, stopping you. "i don't." he watches you hide your perplexity at that confession, raising his eyebrows expectantly. you can't help but look into his eyes for a longer time, those that seem to contain fireflies. “you will,” you assure, and you wait, fearful for him to turn around and go back to the party, for him to give up so quickly, for him to agree with you. but that does not happen.

instead, he takes a step toward you, and then another, and you hold your breath. maybe he does too. his hand goes to an unruly lock on your face, pushing it away gently. “i doubt it,” he utters, just for you to hear.

act two.

the auditorium begins to empty out as students carry the romeo and juliet sets backstage. as one by one, the pieces are removed, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach; your last work of the cycle. the last play before you graduate. the memories are inevitable to stop, and suddenly, your vision blurs. you've been doing works since you realized that you could have your own criteria. you've been doing them since you were little, in the safe space of your room, but not interpreting them, directing them. seeing everything from the outside, always expectant. you've never wanted to play a role until that moment when you watched the stage empty.

"all set, boss," jisung shows up unannounced. “i can't believe this is the end,” he comments, without giving you time to recriminate him for the scare he has given you. “ugh… i didn't realize how much i liked working at the drama club,” he says, looking around the auditorium. you chuckle, causing the boy to look at you curiously. "even when i was yelling at you for not doing your job right?" you ask, wanting to sound disinterested but dreading the answer.

jisung simply replies, “that was the best part.” smiling. “it was a pleasure to have been your assistant,” he pronounces, his gaze softening with honesty.

“jisung,” you call as he walks away. the boy raises his eyebrows, waiting, patient, as if he knows. “you weren't… that bad,” you blurt out, trailing off each word, hoping he finds sincerity in your words. he nods, smiling, causing you to add “don't get used to it,” in the process. “uh, by the way,” he says, remembering something, “the principal wants to see us when you have time,” he reports.

you watch him walk away, deciding to pick up the art school principal on your way home. slowly, you walk toward the exit of the auditorium, pacing the room slowly, wanting to remember the scent one last time (excluding the smell of sweat and hairspray). all the auditions, all the plays, the moments when you eat quietly on stage, your gaze lost between the audience seats, with the dim reflector and your ideas traveling at a thousand kilometers per hour as the only company.

"hey!" a high-pitched voice screeches as you accidentally trip over his body. “ah, yn, i was looking for you.” renjun looks at you, his frown replaced by a smile, mysteriously looking glad to see you. “i just wanted to apologize for playing a lousy benvolio role. i'm really sorry, i should have taken your play seriously. you put so much effort into it and put your trust in me, and i'm really sorry,” he says, vomiting the words without breathing, his features contracted into a pained grimace. “you probably hate me,” he adds.

you look at him, breaking the silence with a sigh, "i don't know if i hate you more than i like you." the boy doesn't look the least bit offended. he shows you one of his best smiles, which lights up his face. “oh, i'll take that as a good thing,” he comments. "you know? even though everyone thinks you're evil, you turned out to be quite nice."

"who thinks i'm evil?" you question, catching him off guard. his eyes widen as if he had said something he shouldn't have said, suddenly avoiding your gaze. despite the fact that you had initially said it as a joke, the boy's reaction makes you take his words seriously. "was it your friend?" you continue, "donghyuck?" renjun denies it several times. “i was referring to the drama club,” he confesses, “well, apparently…everyone hates you.”

“old news, renjun,” you declare. you couldn't be friends with everyone, especially when the weight of directing a play fell on you. obviously, there was going to be discord, but as long as the play was perfect, you didn't care if the world ended up hating you. glory was born from hate. however, why did you feel a sting to think that lee donghyuck was behind all of that? he had said worse things in the past. their enmity went back years. their hatred, full of spite and resentment, could be felt if you shared the same room. the tension hanging in the air, making your blood boil and you hold your breath. just thinking about the other made your bodies stiffen, and a knot settle in your stomach.

renjun had said goodbye when you informed him that you should go to the principal's office. jisung had gone ahead and waited for you in the waiting room. when he saw you approaching, they entered the office. “good news,” was the first thing the man in the suit said. next to him, a woman took a seat in the chair where the director used to sit.

someone had seen the work and wanted you to present it at the art show in town. you listened intently to the woman talking about the details of the event. unlike jisung, who would blurt out “oh” and “wow” in every sentence the director said.

they wanted you to present romeo and juliet, again. all the creative protocol was in your charge. a play in the theater of the city, with five thousand people. with a lot of luck, the hundred seats in the auditorium of the school of arts managed to fill up, but the theater… it was another thing apart.

you both said goodbye to the woman and left in silence towards the already desolate corridor of the art school. both took a few steps, walking away from the office, before jisung cheered excitedly. "wait, you're going to say yes, right?" he stammered, looking concerned. your lost look found his, trying to contain a smile to no avail. you nodded several times. yeah. jisung returned to his victory chant.

your steps guided you towards the exit of the art school. as your eyes swept the parking lot, jisung announced that he was on his way out. "do you want a ride?" he asked, as your eyes found what they were looking for. “i'm fine,” you stated in a whisper, watching the boy lean lazily on the side of his car. brown eyes meeting brown eyes. smiles appearing shyly. the warmth of a hug impregnated with its aroma of amber and wood.

his lips left short kisses all over your face, and your hands put distance between the two of you, remembering where you were. “we're in the art school,” you muttered, causing the boy to chuckle. "i'm sorry," he apologized, her eyes flashing with a million emotions, “shall we go?”.

mark had attended the day of the play, and since then, something had blossomed. your heart beats faster when he's near, and an electric shock jolts through you when your eyes meet. however, you haven't kissed since the day of the party. waiting. it's something new for you. him. what you're feeling.

you catch mark staring at you. a nervous laugh suddenly attacks you. "what?" you ask, seeing him raise his eyebrows. “you're very happy today, that's all,” he reveals, turning his gaze to the road. “i'm happy,” you concede, reaching your hand up to her hair. "do you know the play?" you continue, hearing mark nod, "they want me to present it at the theater in town." you watch mark raise his eyebrows in astonishment. "wow, that's…impressive." his hand goes to the hand that's combing his hair, bringing it closer to his lips and leaving a kiss on it. “impressive,” he repeats again, in a whisper.

you smile, meditating. mark leaves another kiss before interlocking your hands and resting them on the panel in the middle of their seats. “this calls for a celebration,” he declares. "wait, what?" you ask between laughs. mark joins them.

the car falls into a pleasant silence. the evening breeze ruffles your hair. the sweet feeling of being this way numbs your extremities. why didn't i meet you before? you think aloud, quickly realizing your serious mistake. however, mark takes it seriously. "i don't know," he simply replies, "fate works in mysterious ways." "do you think it was fate?" you ask, curious. “surely,” he declares, drumming his fingers on your hand. you give him the reason probably was.

as soon as mark has parked the car, both run into a furious donghyuck.

"where the fuck were you?" he bellows, stopping to give you a fleeting glance. you can see how the fact that you were there answers his question, which makes him angrier. "we have to show up in a few hours, and you think of running away with your girlfriend?" he spats.

"well, at least you know what it feels like," you counter, crossing your arms. mark looks at them both, not knowing what to do or say. jeno, who had been observing everything from a distance, makes an appearance to calm the waters. "it's already here, isn't it?" he tries. donghyuck rolls his eyes at his words. “you can't expect us to waste time while you're being romantic, lee,” he complains, “you have responsibilities, abide by them,” he sentences, before walking away into the house, entering the garage.

jeno raises his eyebrows and half-smiles apologetically, before following the dark-haired man's footsteps into the house. you sigh, feeling your muscles tense, as mark stands in front of you, looking quite affected. "hey..." he starts saying. “he's an asshole,” you mutter, imagining pulling that runny tongue out of him. "sometimes." every time, you mean. "maybe, if..." you discover his intentions before he can formulate them. “never,” you settle, “mark lee, never,” you repeat, emphasizing each word.

“i'm not asking you to become friends,” he explains, “just…don't insult each other,” he requests. "at least try." you look at him, reluctant to do as he asked, easily giving in to the way he is looking at you. "fine," you hiss. and with that, you both head inside.

the garage is mainly decorated by the band's instruments. the battery is in one corner, and at the other end, two sofas (a large one and a small one) surround a box that serves as a coffee table. the walls are decorated with posters and license plates, and the lighting is rather dim. jeno is tuning his bass on one of the sofas, while karina is whispering next to him. donghyuck is on his back talking to a girl who is trying to calm him down, putting her hands on his shoulder and hair. just looking at him makes you feel tense again. mark notices, pulling you close and placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

the girl who is chatting with donghyuck finally looks at you at the entrance, raising her eyebrows in surprise. donghyuck gives them a doggy look before leaving the room. “you must be yn,” she says, reaching out and holding out a hand. you don't know if you should smile or not, so you just don't. “yn, this is our vocalist, ning ning,” mark introduces the girl, “and you know chenle. he's in our course.”, he points to the guy at the keyboard.

“my pleasure,” the girl greets, “will you come to our gig?” she asks. and honestly, you don't know what to answer her. mark hasn't invited you. carrying your thoughts a few minutes ago when you told him about your work, the thought that mark hasn't even told you that he's going to play today causes the knot in your stomach to tighten. the possibility that he doesn't want to spend time with you invades your thoughts.

“i…” you start to say, before donghyuck interrupts you. “she doesn't even like rock,” he says, referring to you. consequently, four pairs of eyes watch you. you glare at the boy, remembering afterward to be nice. “that is to say…, i have not been able to appreciate the genre. but it's never too late,” you confess. the truth is, there's no real reason you hate rock. at least, not one you can remember at the time. you've never taken the time to listen to it, so to say you hate it is pretty extreme. it's easier to say that you hate it than to have to explain that you have no reason to do it other than donghyuck likes it, and therefore, you repelled it.

you feel mark leave another kiss on the crown of your head in the form of support, under the brown-haired gaze. a staring contest over who can break contact first begins. "uh... shall we start the practice?" ning ning asks, getting the boy's attention, who just gives a short nod. mark walks away towards the white guitar resting on the support, and with him, the warmth that emanates from his body. not knowing what to do, you do the most sensible thing: sit next to karina, who pats where jeno had previously been.

“should we play…?” chenle asks, being interrupted by donghyuck. "it doesn't have a name yet, no." is all he says. “lovesong,” ning ning proposs. donghyuck nods and everyone goes to their places, mark strums the strings of his guitar, and in response, donghyuck counts out with his drumsticks.

«i know i love you.

이 제로의 세계 속. in this zero world.

i know you're my one and only.

이 끝이 없던 어둠 속. in this endless darkness.

like oh my god, so holy.»

you watch in fascination as mark plays the guitar with nimble fingers. the enveloping melody of the song puts you in a state similar to ecstasy. the way in which the instruments complement each other, producing an absorbing sensation. jeno's bass with mark's guitar makes the perfect duo, and the drums give it the touch it needs. and ning ning's voice, in perfect harmony, manages to unite everything in a melody that resembles a siren's song. ning ning is like that, bewitching. you can notice how her presence attracts the rest to herself, like an anchor.

you help mark with the cables of the amplifiers while chenle, jeno, and karina are in charge of loading the things into ning ning's van, who is smoking a cigarette outside next to donghyuck. both in a pleasant conversation that is alien to your ears. you watch donghyuck laugh and joke, and restlessness seizes you; the image being quite strange, almost intimate. you look away finding mark paying attention to the same panorama you are looking at. “it's not fair that they're not helping carry things,” you complain, suddenly feeling annoyed. mark chuckles, pinching one of your cheeks, "i think that's my punishment for being late."

“oh,” you say. "you should do it, then." his face twists into a grimace, “what? but it's shared fault,” he argues.

"why's that? i'm not in the band."

“but you're dating a member of it,” he accuses. you open your mouth and nothing comes out of it, while mark looks at you deeply. your body suddenly rises in temperature, making it difficult to breathe regularly. "uh..." you stammer, not knowing what to say. the words melt on your tongue, the heat reaches your neck and cheeks. you are blushing

“pretty,” mark declares, taking in your face. his gaze softens, his eyes widen slightly. you share glances for a few seconds, before he remembers something that causes their features to change. "hey, about today's gig."

“don't worry,” you request, brushing it off. maybe mark has reasons for not inviting you to his little concert. whatever the reasons, you aren't upset about it. maybe a little discouraged. “i have things to do and…” you say, leaving the words hanging because the reality is that you have the night off, and you expect to spend it with him.

“oh, i…,” he reacts deflatingly, “well, i was going to ask you if you wanted to see me play tonight, but…” he explains, fixing his gaze on the floor, looking interested in the carpet, and anywhere in the room except you. “i don't want you to think that i'm inviting you because ning ning told you that we were going to play. i was actually going to ask you when we were packing, but i messed it up, right?" ends with a question, waiting. studying your features. “we can drop you off at your house, on the way to…”.

“i have nothing to do,” you quickly confess, catching the boy off guard. you deny several times, not believing how foolish and desperate you sound. however, there is no going back. “i mean, i remembered that…,” i have nothing to do, you want to say, “i want to see you play,” you finish.

his brown eyes caress yours, before sliding to your lips. her mind meshes thoughts, his face gives them away. your gaze travels over his tanned skin. eyes, nose, mouth. lips parted, holding a prayer. you lick your lips in an involuntary gesture, returning to his gaze, shadowed. his eyes search yours, pupils dilated, asking for permission, before leaning dangerously towards you. your lips almost brushing against each other, your mind evoking the sweet taste of liquor in his mouth on the day of the party.

“okay, guys, we're leaving now,” ning ning announces, clapping her hands several times, drawing everyone's attention. the atmosphere of the moment breaks. mark sends you a pained look, before taking the last cable and encouraging you to follow him outside. the look of donghyuck throwing knives in your direction.

the journey is quite pleasant, the opposite of what you expect. the atmosphere is loaded with jokes and laughter between them, and you as if seeing everything from the outside. laughing, but not interacting. mark has noticed that you are thinking, and has put an arm around your shoulders, drawing you to him. “oh god, i remembered something,” ning ning says, in the front seat, “mark, thank god you decided to show up. donghyuck was about to pull his hair out with his bare hands,” she reports, emphasizing with her hands. donghyuck, next to her, snorts.

"well, it was for a good cause," the black-haired man defends himself, "i was celebrating something."

karina gets interested, “wait, you're dating?” she asks, astonished, before immediately hitting jeno's shoulder. “you owe me twenty dollars,” announced. you are stunned by their interaction, listening to ning ning whistle and share a look with mark, who laughs, waving a hand. “no, not that,” the boy replies, searching your gaze for approval, “yn will present his play at the theater in town,” he finally announces.

there is a reaction shared by the band members. chenle raises his eyebrows slightly, jeno and karina let out a "wow." and ning ning whistles again. "that's great, yn!" congratulates the girl, "don't you think so?" she asks the boy next to her, who simply says “quite a lot.” glancing fleetingly in the rearview mirror. "hey! watch out for the driver,” he protests when ning ning smacks his arm, joking.

you finally arrive at the place where they will play tonight. a bar on the outskirts of seoul. inside, loud music plays in surround style. drinks come and go. mark hands you a beer, which you swallow with difficulty. “yo-dream,” they roar, clasping their hands in the middle of the circle, preparing for the introduction.

the lights dimmed as the band take the stage. the crowd erupt in cheers. ning ning's voice greets the audience, and before long, the band start playing. all attention on her, ethereal. it fits perfectly with the music. chenle joining as second vocalist.

«i know it's real, i can feel it.

난 문제 투성이 love sick. i'm full of problems.

길이 없었어. there was no way.

죽어도 좋았어. i wish i could die.

i'm a loser in this game.»

they have the audience spellbound. singing the lyrics as if they are in a spell, and ning ning is the cause. with her pale skin, with a siren voice. she even catches the eyes of the band members. captivating. chenle glances in her direction, jeno sometimes looks at her, before turning back to the audience, donghyuck, hidden behind ning ning, seems to be staring at her, even though for a moment you think he is actually looking at you.

«please use me like a drug.»

your eyes go to mark, surprising you to see them already looking at you. it feels fascinating to watch. he has donned a tank top, which shows off his chiseled arms and collarbones. his black hair falls to all sides, which he combs back from time to time, leaving his forehead free. the lighting frames his angular features. his wet lips from constantly licking them part, in concentration, while his fingers strum notes on the guitar. the muscles in his arms tensing under his smooth skin.

you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to touch them. soft under your touch, warm. steady, as it looms over you. staring at you, from above, before bringing his mouth closer to yours. his pelvis rubbing against you. donghyuck's suspicious look on stage takes you off guard, taking you out of your thoughts.

your breath quickens at your thoughts. blurring look. you pull yourself together by casting glances around you, thankful that they can't read minds and your wild guesses.

the band eventually says goodbye. you go behind karina to the backstage, looking for mark. you find him keeping his guitar in the lining, a smile blooming on your lips before donghyuck appears in your way. you are about to hit his body if you aren't faster. your eyes meet.

the malicious desire to reprimand him for watching where he was going grows at the base of your throat. however, you remember that you will try to be nice to him for mark's sake, so you clear your throat, in an attempt to prepare yourself. “it was fabulous,” you admit, making no effort to lie. the truth is, it has been wonderful, but saying that to donghyuck would cause his ego to grow.

you watch him frown, and you almost want to roll your eyes. “hey… i guess for both of us's sake we can try being nice,” you ask expectantly, watching him take his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket. one holds a cigarette box, and the other he holds it to you. the rings on his long fingers send chills from your hand to the rest of your body.

truce.

“congratulations on your work,” he says, before breaking hand contact. “it was obvious that they were going to want to present it at the town theater. i liked it,” he adds, causing you to look at him in disbelief. “you haven't even seen it,” you object.

donghyuck is silent as if debating whether to say it or not. in the end, his lips part and he pronounces “yes, i did.”.

you take his confession seriously when you reply “i thought you hated them,” accusing him, unable to avoid it. "what makes you think that?" he asks calmly. "because you said it. you hate them the same way you hate me,” you reply, “remember?” the memory flashes across his face, finally laughing through his nose. “so you do remember,” you mutter. “something i said in fourth grade? of course,” he sneers.

"that doesn't mean you didn't say it."

“i was a boy, yn,” he pronounces. “sometimes kids talk nonsense,” he continues. “like saying they hate something when they really like it,” he finishes, fixing his gaze on you, taking your breath away. "i have never hated you."

there it is, again. that unknown sensation seizing you, confusing your senses. your mind blurs, and nothing coherent is able to form, under the penetrating gaze of the boy, absorbed in his own thoughts. his eyes, which always look like strong coffee, melt like a shot of expresso. an exhalation leaves his lips, snapping you out of your reverie.

“well…, your comment started our feud,” you expound. “mmm…” he mumbles, looking right through you. “just the result i didn't want, i'm afraid,” he says, before gesturing to the cigarette box in farewell and moving on to ning ning. you, in response, go to mark.

“hey… have you seen…?” he inquires when he sees you approach, however, he stops mid-sentence when you take him by the shoulders off guard and bring your face closer to his.

your hand goes to his neck, soaked in sweat, drawing him towards you, merging your lips with his. kissing them testing them. his hands go to your lower back, closer. his mouth opens slightly, deepening the kiss.

you hang on his neck when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, impregnated with beer and mint. moving your face for more access, his movements turn from cautious to agitated. suddenly feeling watched; across the room, someone looking back at you. you break the kiss against your will by running out of breath. you hear mark swallow slowly, before directing his lips to your cheeks, leaving a trail of kisses. your eyes turn away from donghyuck as your hands, still on mark's neck, close in a hug, breathing in his scent. “wow,” he sighs, “i think i'm getting used to being kissed off guard,” he teases, circling your waist.

after the concert, you go back to the garage of donghyuck's house: the band's refuge. jeno and karina are in a corner, where jeno is trying to teach her how to use the bass. mark has taken a seat on the single sofa, with you on his lap, chenle is on the long sofa, stretched out and staring up at the ceiling with the beer can on his stomach, and donghyuck has taken the coffee table

“tell us more about your play, yn,” ning ning urges, sprawled between chenle's legs, before taking a swallow of her drink.

“oh, it's romeo and juliet,” you report, “the contemporary version,” you add. “great,” ning ning admits. “by the way,” jeno says, walking over to the group and forcing chenle up to give him and karina a seat. "you haven't told us if we want to be in it again, did we do so badly in romeo and juliet?" he asks, sharing a look with karina.

"no, you do great," you confess, feeling nervous. it's true that you should ask your characters if they want to continue being part of the cast for the presentation in the theater, but the truth is, an unconscious desire has stopped you from doing so. "the truth is… I want to be in it for the first time before, you know, graduate," you admit, "i'm not sure I'm going to direct a play again, and...".

"don't say that," mark demands. "you're wonderful at directing," he assures, giving you a stern look.

"you'd do well as juliet, i bet," karina says, glancing back at jeno, who nods. "i'm willing to play romeo if you wish," he agrees.

"or..." chenle's voice comes. "mark could be," he opines, shrugging his shoulders. mark's eyes widen in astonishment. "wait, are you serious?" he stammers. ning Ning shrugs. "just saying." his brown eyes search yours for answers. "if Shakespeare accepts me, my answer will always be yes," he concedes, a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

you don't know why you feel horrible.

act three.

"benvolio? are you playing?" jisung's eyes widen in a battle of emotions. disbelief. emotion. intrigue. ecstasy.

you nod several times. "mmm..." you state. "you're the ideal candidate. you know the lines, and you almost defeated renjun at the auditions," you explain. "i still don't know why i didn't get the role..." he comments, meditating. you touch his shoulder gently. "that's because you were ideal to be my assistant. call me selfish," you confess.

the fact is that the work is next week. the fact that jisung is playing benvolio has nothing to do with the fact that time is not in your favor. the boy knows the lines and has been renjun's substitute in the last play. honestly, he is the perfect benvolio. also, you have to focus all your attention on teaching mark his lines. it's quite a difficult process because you both spend more time making out than practicing the scenes. it's hard to avoid it. look at his lips as he recites the words of romeo. his hands, with long fingers, touching his chest covered by a linen shirt. it's hard to contain the urge to kiss him right then and there. more difficult to contain the thread of your thoughts about that transparent garment.

"wow, being an actor is really hard," he decides on the way home, letting out a whistle that he accompanies by shaking his head. "i see why you're always in a bad mood," he confesses. the car is silent for a few seconds as you give him a reproachful look before his laughter fills the air. "i was kidding," he admits. "lousy, by the way," you comment before stroking his hair, smiling. it's your favorite thing. running your fingers through it. combing it. especially for what usually comes with it: mark's little moans into your mouth when you kiss.

after the first kiss, you're doubtful about the next step. you find yourself sinking into the depths of your thoughts while looking at him. the desire warming your chest, feeling your heavy tongue when someone decides to talk to you in those moments. and you know mark thinks about it too, yet every time a kiss escalates in intensity, mark stops.

you both want it to be special.

"you haven't played anymore?" you ask when he falls silent. "yes, small places," he explains by tapping on the flyer, "but i thought you didn't want to go since we've been busy with the play, and performances are late at night. i thought you deserved to sleep." you observe his profile, and you lean in to leave a kiss on his jaw. "i always want to go," you whisper in his ear. you hear him chuckle slightly. "really?" "mmm..." you mumble. your lips leave kisses on his ear, down his jaw and neck. you hear him swallow hard, his breathing becoming ragged.

after seeing them play that night, you find yourself wanting to see it again. it's the first time you've experienced something like that, the emotion, the ecstasy of the moment. especially what comes after each presentation. the intimate moment in donghyuck's garage, where they chat about anecdotes and joke with each other while low music sets the scene. friends. that's how it feels.

now that you and donghyuck have declared a truce, everything is more enjoyable. your body no longer tenses, the knot in your stomach is almost imperceptible. the atmosphere is no longer tense between you. finally, both are beginning to realize that it isn't so horrible to be in each other's company. watching him laugh so easily while joking with chenle. maybe it isn't as terrible as you imagined.

"shit," mark growls seconds before the car stops moving. he manages to park it on the side of the highway, both stunned, gaping at the car slowly lifeless. mark tries to start the engine, to no avail, cursing under his breath. "wait here," he speaks before opening the door. "do you want me to call a mechanic?" you propose, sticking your head out the window, and watching him head for the hood. "no need," he mutters, glancing over. "although…," you watch his face light up as he comes up with a solution. "could you call donghyuck?" "i don't have his number," you reply, watching him approach the passenger door and holding out his phone to you in response.

you take the cell phone in your hands, not believing what you're about to do. the phone rings three times before the boy's voice floods the line. "you're late. again," is the first thing he says, in a monotone. "uh…, it's yn," you clarify. you take your silence as a hint to keep talking. "hey, mark's car broke down on the highway on the way to your house," you report. "mark said to call you," you finish.

"tell mark i'm on my way," he replies. you thank in a low voice, ready to hang up when his voice stops you from doing so. "why didn't you call from your phone?" he asks, a tone that reveals curiosity in his voice. "i don't have your number," you reveal, feeling embarrassed. you hear his laughter fill the earpiece. mark becomes interested when he hears you laugh. "did he answer you?" he asks, leaning over the driver's door. "he said he'll be here in ten minutes," you reply. "we're really sorry," mark apologizes to the other members.

mark returns to the space inside the car, leaning back in the seat, and blocking glances. your hand reach for his cheek. the passing headlights of cars on the freeway illuminating his profile. “well, this is humiliating,” he mutters, referring to the accident. you deny, smiling, however, you could tell that he was hesitating. you lean in and place a small kiss on his lips, in an attempt to reassure him, lifting your body from the seat when it increases in intensity. mark welcomed you into his lap as you climbed in, tilting the seat back for more comfort. his hands going to your hips, while yours traced circles on the soft skin of his neck. feeling him under you.

leans towards you, leaving several kisses on your lips. you laughed without avoiding it. “mark,” you point out. “mmm…it's addictive,” he apologizes. “your lips always taste like strawberries,” he confesses, and you feel yourself swoon as you lean in to kiss him.

a sigh leaves his lips as you slowly moved your hips against him. your pulse soaring in your ears when you could feel it. getting hard against your crotch. you move over him again, back and forth, your lips parted with the sensation. the bulge in his crotch pushing against you. your face contracting as a wave of pleasure hit your body. "mark..." you moan.

two sharp blows sent them both into a spasm. as promised, donghyuck looks at you through the car's tinted glass. you rush down from mark's lap, as the boy lowers the window. “hey,” he greets. donghyuck looks down at both, arching his brow. he knows.

he clears his throat, glancing at the highway, disinterested, before opening the driver's door, prompting mark to get out of the car. the black-haired man gives you a short look before getting off.

you cover your face once you make sure both guys aren't paying attention to you. embarrassed, ashamed. fearing that he has heard you. fearing that he has seen them through the glass.

they return to the car minutes later. finally come to life. by the time they start back toward donghyuck's house, the sun has gone down.

"we're really sorry," mark apologizes to the other members. the breakdown has taken up the time they were going to allocate to practice. although the apology is directed towards everyone, donghyuck responds.

"it doesn't matter," he replies.

they end up playing jealousy, jealousy and shinunoga e-wa. the way home is quite silent. no one is joking, and no one is chatting. you even come to believe that they are avoiding you. mark doesn't even notice when you tell him about it when you get to the garage. "maybe we're all exhausted, we've been playing various places the last few days," he tries, but you don't buy it. "i'll go talk to him," you inform him before heading out to find him.

the marlboro trail leads you to it. and ning ning. you fear you are interrupting the hectic conversation they are both having, ready to talk to him at another time. after all, neither of them has noticed you. however, one word catches your eye.

"what will you do when she sees us, huh?" hisses ning ning. "you can't help it forever, hyuck," he adds, taking a short silence that he uses to take an inspired drag on the cigarette in his bony fingers.

you hear donghyuck complain. "she's going to kill me," he assures. "she'll still kill you if you don't tell her."

that conversation is not making sense to you. you are hesitating between interrupting them or leaving, noting that the conversation is heading towards private territory. you don't feel good eavesdropping, especially if that conversation turns out to be a confession between them. but a million unknowns float in your mind. who are they talking about?

"we just reconciled a few days ago. you can't expect me to tell her and have her hate me again. i don't want to ruin it," his confession catches you off guard. the tone of his voice reveals the effort it takes to say it out loud. reconcile with whom?

"she's going to find out sooner or later," ning ning states.

you don't have to connect the dots to conclude that they are talking about you. however, you can't find out about what.

"what do i have to find out?" you ask, finally stepping out of the darkness. donghyuck seems to have seen a ghost, and ning ning simply disappears into the house. "what don't you want to tell me?" you reformulate.

he recovers almost immediately, getting up from the wall where he was leaning and approaching you, menacingly. "who do you think you are, sneaking into conversations that don't concern you?" he accuses, towering over you. "don't try to change the subject." you threaten, discovering his intentions. "what is it that i can't find out?" you ask again.

donghyuck ignores your questions and enters the house, with you on his heels and recriminating him. it's true; you aren't going to give up that easily. with every step donghyuck takes, the chances of finding out what he and ning ning are talking about go with him. you can't let it happen.

donghyuck stops abruptly when you stand between him and his path of escape. your hand instinctively closes on his jacket, preventing him from moving. you look at him sternly, causing him to shoot daggers at you with his eyes. the discussion catches the attention of the others, peeking into the hallway where you and donghyuck are having a staring contest.

"listen to me," he says. "it's a huge opportunity," he begins, and as he explains, your brow furrows more and more in confusion. "i couldn't say no, okay?" he urges, looking at you with pleading eyes.

the realization hits you in the stomach as you realize where the conversation is heading. you feel his hand put on yours, but you break the contact as if it burns. “you… idiot,” you declare, feeling your voice burn in your throat.

you push past him on your way out of the house, hearing him call behind you. you turn a deaf ear to their calls, your mind plunging into the purest anger you've ever felt in your life. how could you have let your guard down? how could you think that you and donghyuck could be friends?

"yn, please."

"leave me alone!" you roar. “i… i'm a fool,” you continue, watching him deny. "yes, I am." you agree. "i should congratulate you; you've won, okay?" you admit.

"what's going on?" mark's voice comes from behind them, causing them to turn their attention to him. “let's give him the good news,” you propose. “dream society will be performing at the town theater,” you inform, feeling donghyuck tense. “his leader wanted to give you the news, but he thought it would be better to wait until I left so i wouldn't find out until the day of the presentation,” you conspire. "probably because he wanted to see my stupid face when i saw you."

mark looks at you, and the absence of surprise weighs heavily in your stomach. "you knew?".

"yn..." he tries to call you, tries to pull you out of the hole you've fallen into, the one you've been pushed into, by his hands, by donghyuck's, by everyone's. he looks at you and you feel like dying, but it's his voice from behind that make the execution.

"yn..." you interrupt him, accusing him with your finger. "you always have to take everything away from me, huh?" you spit “whatever you wanted to prove, well done, you proved it,” you add before walking away, not looking back.

act four.

“you're leaving in ten minutes,” the av assistant reports, peering into the dressing room.

the truth is that you are more than ready. you have fixed yourself in record time, just to be able to review and coordinate with others. the scenery is on stage, the seats are filling up. extras are in their costumes. everything is going smoothly, except for one thing.

it has been a week since you last went to a dream society presentation. mark seems to understand why. just seeing donghyuck's face makes you want to vomit bile. the best thing you can do is break all contact with him, in hopes of extinguishing that knot that oppresses your chest.

jisung comes out from behind the screen to show you his outfit. you tilt your head, watching the boy before reaching over and combing his hair. “better,” you declare.

you look at your phone for the fifteenth time tonight. no notifications. no messages from mark. romeo is not there.

"seven minutes!"

“shit,” you mumble, drawing the attention of the people in the dressing room. the last thing you want is for them to get stressed knowing that a major part of the work is missing, so you smile.

he is not answering the phone either, and boy did you do it more times than you wanted to admit. he has simply disappeared. a part of you begins to fret, plotting the most terrible thing you can think of. mark would have to be on his way to the theater if he is going to perform with the band afterward. it is unlikely that he would not come when he should. if it is not for the work, for the presentation of his band. a thought surges, like poison. what if donghyuck is behind all this? what if mark being romeo was donghyuck's plan to humiliate you in front of the whole town? you are on the verge of collapse.

"five minutes!".

"shut up!" you receive shocked looks from everyone in the dressing room.

without saying a word, you leave the room. you do not notice jisung following you. "something happens?" he asks. finally, you break down, “romeo…mark doesn't show up,” you correct. your gaze clouds; a moan tears from your throat even when you try to stifle it. jisung pulls you closer to him in a hug. "not a biggy." he reassures. you hear him hum, thinking. "jeno?" he suggests.

“it will take more than five minutes to get here,” you comment. besides, if donghyuck and mark are behind all of this, jeno is surely behind it too. “renjun,” he utters. you walk away, compiling yourself. it is not like you to whine. you must be looking for solutions. “he only knows benvolio lines,” you recall.

“huh,” you hear jisung utter. although when you look for his gaze, it is at a point behind you. your eyes go to the place where he is looking, holding your breath.

“mark's car broke down.” donghyuck approaches carefully, as if a sudden movement could break you.

“three minutes!”.

“we need mark,” you say in his direction. “he's not going to make it, yn,” he says, studying your features. “shit, shit.” jisung raises his hands to his head.

"is he coming?" you ask, fearing the answer, "or is he the final piece of your plan?" he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but you know him, you know when your words hit home, and this is one of them. however, you don't find victory in it, much less comfort. "i don't think mark would do anything to hurt you," he says sincerely. "and you?" you say without thinking.

"two minutes!"

“wait,” jisung says, drawing your attention. "you…" he hesitates to look at you when his eyes land on donghyuck. “you've seen the play a couple of times. in rehearsals, right?" both gazes fall on donghyuck, waiting for the dark-haired man's response.

donghyuck just nods slowly.

do you know the lines of romeo?" you ask, trying to hide your astonishment. "yes, i've read something."

"they're out in a minute!"

"jisung, take him to the dressing room. we have to improvise a bit," you announce. jisung steps forward, showing him the way to the dressing rooms, but you stop donghyuck before he gets away. "if this is another one of your jokes, you bet i'll go for your head," you hiss, watching him nod, looking at the bottom of your face to avoid looking at you.

«these violent delights,

have violent ends.»

the play starts, and the whole time, you are holding your breath. you force yourself to take slow breaths and stay calm. even if it goes wrong, it's not the end of the world. in any case, it would be the end of your career. nothing to worry about. you come out in your scenes and deliver every single line you know by heart. it's nothing new to say them; you always knew them. it's the experience, for the first time in front of the public. your body feels light, the moment feels unreal.

your body tenses when jisung and donghyuck come on stage almost halfway through the play. they exchange a dialogue.

"are you in love?" jisung asks, looking at donghyuck. you bite your lips, thinking of a prayer. "out," he replies. "of love?" jisung inquires benevolently. donghyuck's gaze goes to the boy. his features show nothing more than the ghost of a lament. "the one that i love doesn't love me back," he utters, his words emitting sadness to the public, his look causing a pang in your heart.

the scene changes to another. one by one, the work is coming to an end. you can glimpse the band members in the audience. jeno and chenle give you thumbs up, and you have to try not to laugh right then and there.

until the scene you had practiced with mark comes. many times. in rehearsals. backstage. in your car.

donghyuck delivers each of his lines to perfection. it's a little contradictory that he would have remembered them all just by reading the work once. although you don't underestimate it. donghyuck is pretty smart, you know that, and he knows many topics. you've seen him chat with the members when they're relaxing after a performance. so when you witness the emotions he inspires in each of his words, you can't help but believe that he really means them.

then he leans towards you, and impulsively you do too. he has removed the rings from his fingers when he places his hand on your cheek, his face moving closer to yours. your eyes close, feeling his breath mix with yours. your lips finally meet, and he explodes in your chest.

donghyuck kisses you slowly, and you feel your body melt into the other's mouth, savoring the kiss. his body hovers over you, causing a shadow, hiding the desire of the public. feeling his silky lips against yours, you find yourself wanting more. but the kiss doesn't last more than five seconds, and the moment comes to an end when donghyuck's body moves away from you, and you fall into the realization of your thoughts as you kiss him.

and like some sort of magnetic feeling, your eyes travel to a dark corner of the theater. a single figure stands there, as if heading backstage without being seen by the audience, but stops at the last second to witness this exact moment.

you both leave the stage, avoiding each other.

"well done," jaemin congratulates, in the role of mercutio. "it's not over yet," you both answer at the same time. jaemin stares at you, hiding his amusement. "break a leg," he wishes, watching you go off in opposite directions.

shit, what just happened?

the work finishes wonderfully. mark appears backstage, apologizing until he's breathless. he explains that on the way to the theater, his car breaks down, and he has to call a tow truck. his phone dies after calling and notifying donghyuck, with no way to contact you. you can tell that he really feels it. you reassure him that you aren't upset and that it isn't his fault. the last thing you want is for him not to do his best in his presentation by thinking about that kind of nonsense.

the band goes up shortly after the play. those from the drama club watch the performance from the wings, deciding that the views are the best. as always, ning ning introduces the band. her harmonious voice is heard through the speakers of the town theater. "this song is called 'strawberries & cigarettes,'" she announces.

act five.

your body feels like it's floating with mark next to you. the van is full of glee and ready to burst. jisung, jaemin, and renjun have joined in the celebration, causing them to be crammed into the seats. finally, the wars and disputes have ended.

the entire school of arts attends the celebration to bid farewell to the last semester.

the dreams have gathered in the patio of the place, toasting with beer and laughing. "i dreamt a dream tonight," you're surprised to hear donghyuck recite romeo and juliet. jaemin replies, "and so did i," before taking a drink of his beer. "well, what was yours?" you ask. "that dreamers often lie," he utters.

that little scene makes you remember something that had surfaced in your mind after the presentation of his song. your attention goes to the boy next to you. mark has been silent since they left the theater, his face reflecting nothing more than sheer absence. lost in thought, you leave a little kiss on his cheek; you don't want him to continue to torture himself thinking that he failed you in the play, so you come up with something. "by the way," you hear a small "mmm…" before muttering, just to him, "strawberries and cigarettes?" you ask, funny. your attempt to get his attention pays off. "mm…" he agrees, absorbed. "donghyuck named it," he declares, looking at you as if he wanted to find something before looking away, perhaps finding what he was looking for.

you stay hanging, in automatic mode, with a lost look. looking for donghyuck by inertia. their eyes meet, transmitting endless emotions without labels.

the night takes its course, but you get stuck at that moment. watching everyone have fun, toasting, dancing. mark has broken away from your side at one point, and at another, someone handed you a beer that you declined as best you could. the party fades until the members scatter again in the place where you stayed all night.

by the end of the night, everyone is all drunk, except you.

you help jaemin pick up the empty cans and put them in a garbage bag. jeno has taken renjun inside the house when the boy fell asleep on the grass. chenle is throwing up in a bush, and jisung doesn't let go of ning ning for a second, who is smoking calmly next to him.

"have you seen mark?" you ask him. she just shrugs. "i think i saw him leave in his car," she comments.

when the temperature begins to drop, they all go inside the house. "okay, let's divvy up the rooms," jaemin proposes. in the end, chenle and jisung take the giant sofa in the living room, and jaemin settles for a sheet and a cushion on the floor. donghyuck appears just at that moment. "you can take my bed," he offers in the direction of you, ning ning, and karina; jeno says that she will sleep in the van, and by default, donghyuck takes the sofa from the garage.

once everything is decided, everyone goes to bed.

to your and ning ning's surprise, karina has been asleep since before the party ended. in a deep sleep, it's hard to wake her up. you and ning ning lie down on either side of her motionless body.

no matter how hard you try to fall asleep, it's impossible. you can barely get into the bed, not a very comfortable position, and ning ning and karina have taken over the sheets. you stare at the ceiling in silence, debating whether you should just try to sleep or stay awake, considering that it's almost dawn.

however, you end up ruling out both options. your feet take you to the corridor as if they have a life of their own, although deep inside you know that they are paying attention to your deepest desires. trying not to wake anyone, you stop in the middle of the room, realizing how pathetic and desperate your decisions make you look.

"are you going to stay there and watch me sleep?" donghyuck mutters. you see his silhouette sit up on the sofa. it's too late to regret it. "don't you have another sheet?" you ask, watching him sit on the couch. the light hardly enters to see his features, but you can feel his gaze crushing you. "i'm afraid not; i've given them to the dreamies," he explains.

"oh, okay. i'm sorry; i'll let you sleep then," you say, making the move to leave.

"stay." you hear him say clearing his throat before continuing. "uh…we can share mine."

“i don't think it's a good idea,” you think aloud. “you're drunk,” you point out, quickly clarifying, “i didn't mean you're going to do something; i'm just saying it because you'll regret this in the morning.” when you can see him stir.

“i don't think i'm going to regret making sure you're okay,” he says.

there was. the dilemma. to leave. or to stay. donghyuck or…

“okay,” you whisper.

you close the distance between them, watching donghyuck make room for you on the sofa. he passes the sheet over your bodies before laying his head next to you. your bodies so close. legs trying not to get tangled. your hands brushing his chest. “you're shaking,” he comments. you don't know if it's just because of the cold. "i'm sorry," you apologize.

you feel his hand looking for yours under the sheet, taking them to his lips, expelling his warm breath. you are disconcerted when you don't smell a trace of liquor, coming to think that perhaps accusing him of being drunk had been your pathetic excuse. "better?" he asks. you nod slightly. the dim lighting barely reveals his smile. his eyes close sleepily, and you fear that this is the last chance to say it; he would slip out of your reach.

“donghyuck,” you call. his eyes widen again, warming your insides. "i…" god, why did it cost you so much? “it's okay,” he says. “i want to say it,” you murmur. you see him pay attention. “i'm sorry to tell you all those…things. i'm a stupid. it was a giant opportunity, and i just ruined that special moment with my attitude and… i'm so sorry.” your gaze clouds over with contained tears. “it's okay to hate me for the rest of your life,” you sob.

your words are followed by silence, coupled with donghyuck's rhythmic breathing. you feel his lips rest on your forehead. “i thought you would know by now,” he murmurs. you look up to meet his gaze. dark, as if the stars of the night sky had been swallowed. “i could never hate you,” he confesses. his eyes close by inertia under your gaze. “after all, all my love songs are for you,” he reveals, so low, for your ears only. he keeps his eyes closed, as if afraid of finding rejection if he saw you.

your hands go to his cheeks, prompting him to look at you. you study his features, scanning his face in the dark, although you don't need to see to know where his moles paint his face. "careful," he warns when your gaze lingers on his lips for a longer time.

your mouth imagines what they taste like this time if you try them. marlboro. beer. sweet.

a gasp escapes your lips unconsciously, catching donghyuck off guard. your tongue holds a plea, which doesn't need to leave your mouth when what you ask for is fulfilled.

donghyuck's lips devour your mouth fervently with hungry kisses, wanting to appease a long-held desire, wanting to stop a flood of suppressed emotions.

your hands run through his chest, shoulders, and neck, eventually getting into his dark hair, hearing a moan die in your half-open mouth. his body hovers over yours, your legs wrap around his waist, a flame burning in your chest, numbing your common sense, letting yourself be carried away by desire. him, all your senses scream. him. him. him.

his movements become erratic, clumsy, desperate, trying to melt into each other, trying to kiss everywhere, touch everywhere. his hips thrust into your hips in an unexpected movement, feeling his erection against your belly.

your gazes meet between gasps.

"i don't..." you start saying, seeing him open his eyes with blows. “shit, forgive me,” he hastens to say. the very thought made your hands shoot up his arms, stopping him. “no, no,” you utter, making what you meant to say clear. “i…want…i want you to,” you confess, relieved that he hadn't brought up the intrinsic drawback you were both aware of.

“i just…” you continue, “it's the first time i…, you know, i've done it,” you finally say, waiting for his reaction. all you got was donghyuck's deep look. "it's also the first time for me," he answers.

the confession caught you off guard, sitting up on your elbows, almost impacting your foreheads. he had caught you off guard. you never would have imagined. that the boy that he belonged to a gang and misbehavior would not have had his first sexual experience. "shit," you exclaim, "are you sure...?" you asked, being interrupted mid-sentence by him. “yes,” he states, without a stutter. “i want it to be you,” he confesses.

your heart was about to explode. “i want it to be you too,” you agree, before donghyuck kisses you.

between kisses, he deposited you back on the comfortable surface of the sofa. your hands caressed his back when his lips moves to your neck and clavicle. hair tickling your cheeks. smile tasting like honey. his moans just for you to hear. his caresses bristling your skin as his fingers leave their prints on your hips, legs, and arms. inserting them under your shirt, cupping your breasts, brushing your nipples.

your back arch. further. further. further. lifting his shirt, stopping in mid-kiss to pull it over his head. admiring for a few seconds his bare chest. tracing an imaginary path to his belly button with your finger, listening to him breathe heavily. your mouths met again as if all this time they had needed each other. hands down your waist, fingers brushing your belly. "may i?" a question. a yes as an answer.

you feel his fingers get lost under your pants, letting out a gasp when he found his way to your intimate area. putting pressure on it, before drawing small circles. the pleasant sensation of their movements causing your eyes to fix on the ceiling, blinking when you feel your mind cloudy.

donghyuck stimulates your clit with a leisurely rhythm, leaving wet kisses on your neck and shoulders, deciding that your shirt was unnecessary, and ending up on the floor next to his. thumb deciding to leave short little touches as his fingers trailed down into your folds, awakening all your nerve endings.

while everyone slept, your silent gasps and the sound of your wetness crackled in the air.

your legs go numb while a pleasant wave invades you. "that's ok?" he asks shyly. fearing that your voice would betray you, you nod effusively. your hands instinctively going to the place where he was touching you. you got up enough to see his hand move nimbly, hidden by your pants. donghyuck watched you raise your hips and with agitated movements, started to take off your pants. his hand stops its movements, and you almost feel faint.

with one less garment, you go for his pants. donghyuck leans back on the sofa, watching you sit up and remove the piece of cloth, his hips moving up to help you. dark underwear coming out in sight, hiding a bulge underneath. "can i?" you ask the same question, looking at his eyes, the brown completely consumed by his pupils. "always."

a stain darker than the rest of the cloth reveals wetness. your hands went to his crotch, above the cloth. the moisture confirmed your suspicions: precum. you position yourself on the ground, between his legs, watching donghyuck throw his head back, you lick your lips before pulling out his member. beads of semen adorned the tip and without warning. looking prominent and big, you wonder how it'll fit in you. feeling soft yet hard, delicate and pink at the tip, with a visible vein that disappears under the base. you lean in. your warm breath hitting his penis makes him let out a small gasp. your tongue lick the drops of precum, putting the flushed head in your mouth, warm and rigid, causing him to let out a moan. the citrus flavor took you by surprise, gently sucking on the tip, hoping not to waste a drop.

“you're going to kill me,” you hear him say, before taking his full length into your mouth. your cheeks puffed out and your brow furrowed as the tip grazed your throat, pulling it out immediately and meeting the boy's gaze. like this? they ask his contorted features gave you the answer.

a line of kisses from the tip to the base, and back up, putting it in your mouth, pulling it out, and repeating the process while bobbing your head. his small moans letting you know you were doing a good job. his hands on your neck and hair, pulling him out of the picture. your hands going to the base of his member, touching his testicles and watching him tense up. finding yourself loving his whiny voice, his guttural sounds, the feel on your tongue, the trace of his flavor, wanting to taste more.

his hands take you away without warning from him. breaking contact. you watch him breathe heavily, and then watch him struggle to form a sentence. “you,” he says, on an exhalation. "i want you."

your chest explode in a supernova-like explosion. a hot sensation hit your stomach.

"do you have… ?" you see him rummage through his pants pockets. "yes."

his hands search for yours in the dim room, helping you up from the floor. finding your way into his lap. your legs are positioned on each side of his waist, putting all your weight on his thighs, in front of his erect dick hitting his stomach. your chin is lifted up by his hand when you get lost contemplate his masculinity, salivating in desire of having it again in your mouth, taste again his seed. the other hand leaving your hips to open the condom. “why did you have a condom in your pants?” you asked with genuine curiosity. his brown eyes looked at you. “i'm prepared,” he jokes, "i didn't know exactly the time you'd want it so i always carried it."

"shut up," you chuckle.

his mouth trail kisses from your chest to your stomach, lifting you slightly until you feel him at your entrance. hand looking for yours. intertwining. sharing glances as you slowly lower on him.

submerged in the coffee of his eyes, you feel him sink into you. a sharp pain expanding inside you, adjusting to the unknown. donghyuck stays still, watching you scrunch your face into a grimace showing him discomfort. he doesn't move until you push your hips into his. you need to feel it. you wanted it so much.

donghyuck expands your walls, the pain becoming imperceptible, pleasurable. a gasp escapes your lips. “hyuck,” you gasp.

his face is hidden in your chest. “feels…,” he whispers, “very good,” he finishes, before hugging you and pulling you close. the sudden movement causing both to moan for the friction of your bodies intertwined, moving with him.

your hands seek support on his shoulders, arching your hip, feeling it. propelling you up and down again, a slight burn in your groin. your mind going wild knowing that the reason was him. his half-open mouth letting out small pants, which you voluntarily let die in your mouth when you kiss him. clumsily you both laugh.

your face hiding in his neck when your legs trembled. pausing only a little because of the spasms that attacked your lower body, before continuing. increasingly erratic. each time faster. desperate.

"shit." the sound of your sticky arousal driving donghyuck insane, accompanying his hectic breaths. his desperate hands running through your entire body, while a knot grows in your crotch and expands through your belly, numbing your senses.

donghyuck collapses, as the orgasm drains him. holding you close, marking his footprints on your skin. a sharp pang tearing your breath away, before the knot finally came undone, whipping your nerve endings into sweet ecstasy.

slowing down your ride, until it was just small unconscious stimulating movements, still present from the previous episode. rocking your body while feeling him twitching against your walls, coated with your velvety arousal, sensing it slipping out every time you go down on it, shaky “i have to pull it out…,” you hear him say, “before… it stops being erect” he murmurs, receiving a short nod from you.

his hands goes to the base of his member, extracting it from your warmth. your lips leave short kisses on his temple, watching him handle the wrapping with skillful hands, before leading them both towards the comfortable surface of the sofa. his arms encircled your waist. "someone can see us like this" you whisper, remembering the pair of young adults in the next room.

donghyuck leans over and picked up his shirt from the floor, holding it out. “it's really hot all of a sudden,” he says, making excuses for why he was still naked. you put on his shirt between laughs, accepting donghyuck's invitation to lie on his chest. you hear his heart beat slowly.

"so..." you spoke again after a few seconds. “so, strawberries & cigarettes…,” you mention. you felt donghyuck's laughter rumble in his chest. "for you".

"what about lovesong?"

"same."

you meditated for a few seconds. “jealousy, jealousy?” ask now. “you'll have to ask ning ning,” he says, implying that the girl had written the song.

you couldn't contain the smile that form on your lips. again that feeling that warm your chest. love, now you understand.

“hyuck…,” you call, “don't fall asleep.” you could see the smile on his face. discovering your intentions. “we just did it and you want to do it again?” he mock. "you read my mind," he murmurs, before looming over you.

act six.

a tangle of limbs, that's what you notice first, and the absence of noise.

you sit up on the sofa, rubbing your eyes. memories of the night before overwhelm your senses. donghyuck is fast asleep, so you maneuver with difficulty not to wake him up, taking your clothes and deciding to go out and investigate why everything seems so quiet.

the first thing you see is chenle and renjun in the kitchen, preparing a bowl of cereal. joining them, jisung and jaemin eat quietly at the kitchen island. “good morning, boss,” jisung greets. three pairs of eyes shoot your way. “uh, jisung, you can call me yn.” the boy just nods.

"cereals?" chenle asks, in your direction. when you nod, he adds, “can you call ning ning? she's outside, smoking," before returning his attention to what he's doing.

your steps take you to the backyard of the house. ning ning is lost in thought as she puffs on her cigarette, or so you think you notice when you reach her side, exhaling the smoke. “mark was here,” she says, “a few minutes ago.” shit.

her gaze meets yours, her features hardening. "you won't deserve him in a million years," she declares.

you return her gaze, serene. “it's not my fault he doesn't like you,” you finally acknowledge. all this time, you'd thought she had feelings for donghyuck when her heart had always belonged to the boy with the firefly eyes.

you turn your back on her, walking away, going back into the house. "it's already served…" you interrupt chenle mid-sentence. “mark, did he come by car?” you ask, urgently.

“on foot,” chenle replies, “he lives a few blocks from here.” you hurry out, past the garage and the boy who sleeps in it. your mind races with a thousand thoughts per second, and your feet move on their own.

shouldn't be far. you pray that he isn't far away.

"mark!" your breath catches from the effort of running.

he finally turns around, recognition bathing his features.

you shorten the distance that separates you until there's only a prudent space between the two of you.

"forgive me," you beg. "i did not want…".

“i wanted to ignore it,” he confesses, getting tired of waiting for you to finish that sentence. “i wanted to believe that one day you would look at me the way you look at him,” he says under your gaze. you shake your head. "that night when you apologized for kissing me." his eyes narrow, visualizing the memory. “i told you i wasn't sorry,” he quotes. “looking back, i would have avoided all this,” he admits, “maybe if i had run i would have prevented donghyuck from stealing the love that was for me,” he declares.

“if only i had gotten to the play on time. i would have avoided everything."

“i didn't mean to break your heart,” you open up. a laugh leaves his lips. “everything started with him,” remembering the kiss you used to distract donghyuck at the party. "it's only fair that i'm the one who ends it."

mark. the star boy or donghyuck, the black hole.

a sigh leaves your lips as you open your mouth to respond.

finale.

the house is quiet as the members have recently left. you look around the garage, not avoiding feeling nostalgic.

donghyuck is not on the couch, neither are his clothes. a noise coming from the floor above gives away their location: his room.

the boy glances at you over his shoulder. "you're still wearing my shirt, you know that?" you look at the garment. "yeah."

"mark?" he asks, referencing your whereabouts a few minutes ago. he watches you nod slowly, still backward. "aren't you going to look at me?" you want to know, finally making him face you.

you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, feeling the weight of your actions and their consequences.

donghyuck clears his throat. "i suppose you're here to tell me that you've chosen him, so i'll tell you one thing: don't worry." his words catch you off guard. "it's only fair that it's him. i… was a complete idiot," he opens up. "i wasn't even able to express what i felt for you."

"hyuck." your eyes meet. "then do it now."

a silence settles between them before donghyuck breaks it.

"i'm in love with you." five words. they are enough to bring down all your walls. "i will always be in love with you." his brows furrow in sorrow. "it doesn't matter if you don't love me back."

your feet move by inertia, like a magnet attracting you. donghyuck watches you in silence, his eyes closed when you touch his cheek. finally, he lets out the air he had been holding. “i love you back,” you declare before he kisses you.

his muscles relax under your touch, his tongue savoring your lips before meeting yours. the kiss escalates in intensity, your movements becoming more frantic, and when your feet fall back, donghyuck follows you.

your bodies impact with the soft surface of the bed, taking off each other's clothes with agile movements.

“keep it on,” he requests as your hands went to remove his shirt.

your bodies came together again in a collective gasp. donghyuck closed his eyes, contracting his face, overwhelmed by the pleasant sensation that also ran through your nerves. sinking into you, your mouth opened in a ghostly moan, feeling your head spin.

his hips moved rhythmically, sliding in and out. "look at me." his eyes did as you told. believing that you could drown in the chocolate of his eyes, and in the black hole of his pupils, expanding. his muscles tensing with each thrust. moans coming from his lips, swollen and wet. your body submerging in a sweet ecstasy. eyes filling with tears.

"hyuck...,"you moan, however, nothing coherent could come out of your lips. donghyuck slows down his movements, using one of his hands to comb your hair. “without…” you start, “without condom.” you were able to ensure that his cock twitched inside you. “i'll take the pill,” you mutter with effort.

a sob leave your lips when you felt him take out his member. your gaze travel to the point where your bodies connected, watching as he removed the condom and threw it. beads of precum glistening at the tip. your hands inadvertently go towards his length. you heard donghyuck catch his breath as your hand goes up and down, milking his dick.

"it feels good. you feel good.” donghyuck sank into the crook of your neck, in a tangle of kisses and gasps. your body bristling for him. an exhalation leaves his lips when he reintroduces his member, as the sensation becomes more intense, pounding hard. whimpering as his climax feels closer, feeling you raw, skin to skin. hips colliding, everything ending and beginning there where your bodies get together with each thrust, filling you. intertwining your legs on his lower back, forcing him to go further. deeper. feeling your walls tighten around his girth as he brings both of you to their breaking point, becoming more sloppy.

"i'm so close." a sharp pinprick expand in your core, a current invading your senses. your mind clouding listening to donghyuck's grunts and gasps in your ear.

an electrical wave numbs your senses, feeling your muscles go into spasms, small and short at first, shifting under his weight, arching your back and meeting his body when he pushes into you once more, your hands squeezing his shoulders, traveling to his arms, fingers burying on his smooth skin. hearing him let out a groan, which finally released the tension in your body, both of you letting out "i love you." in one last gasp.

the body of donghyuck collapses on top of you, tensing as waves of pleasure washes over him. slowing down his strokes, going deeper and lighter, milking his seed inside you, hot. the pleasurable sensation of it making you smile softly, sleepily. tired. full.

donghyuck greets you when you snuggled up next to him. silent. the confession still hanging in the air. “i like this character evolution,” he says in a whisper, “no more idiot. or my favorite, dipshit. hyuck” he repeats, "i like how it sounds in your mouth." you leave a long kiss on his mouth. the marlboro mingling with the strawberry flavor. you complain when he broke the kiss.

"did you know that i made you angry just so you would call me that?” he confesses. you deny, laughing.

donghyuck kisses your smile.

"now you know."

[wilwheaton]

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D'Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn't want to be an actor, whose eyes can't hide the pain? I'm your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and saved by the Man Who Fell To Earth, who uses a glowing crystal to save his life from ... some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden - Piece of Mind

Judas Priest - Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P - The Last Command

(I know this was in March of 1987, because Turbo had just come out.)

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it's-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don't accumulate albums like I once did, because I'm Old and set in my ways.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years.

There was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don't have any of the others -- I looked -- but The Last Command was right there.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The title track was just as great as I remembered it. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was ... um. It just didn't connect with me, and for the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I don't think it ever really did. I would remember.

But I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn't want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started.

I didn't listen to the second side. I didn't need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.