#track down eric's family that way

[victorinoxghoul]

THE PLOT JUST CONNECTED IN MY BRAIN

[simulation-machine]

Okay, so, since I genuinely don’t really play this family a ton, I decided to just show their everyday outfits all at once. Behold, the Spencer-Kim-Lewis family! Eric, Vivian, and Alice got the bigger makeover. I gave Eric more of a dad bod, Vivian much better makeup, and Alice a crunchy-granola vibe.  Olivia just got different hair and cuter kid outfits. Dennis more or less stayed the same. 

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

daryl dixon taglist: @katrina765 @hp-hogwartsexpress @ellablossom @alexxavicry (open!)

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[tinyarsonist]

Volume: Up

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI 18+ Only

TW: idol!Chan, IdolTrainee!Y/N(fem!), drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, masturbation, dumification, nipple play (fem!), cum on stomach, PleasureDom!Chan, switch!reader (fem!), pull out, cum on stomach, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold is in Spanish. Rest in English.

Volume Series: Part One | Part Two | ?

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?"  Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic.  The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body.  His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question. 

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes. 

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis,  kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection.  Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer. 

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow. 

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

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[7smiles]

people who fuck and suck on Zero Day but hate Elephant are probably the most media illiterate people you'll ever come across.

I feel like if you cant grasp that Elephant was an artistic telling of how many lives are affected by one person's actions (Two people since Alex orchestrated Eric to help), you just miss the entire point of the film and have no right to judge it.

Zero Day and Elephant shouldnt even be compared bc truly, they tell different stories even if its on the same topic. Zero Day tells the lives of Andre and Calvin in a way that makes you understand their actions and SHOWS why they were disliked and how socially outcasted they were, even if Cal was more liked than Andre.

Elephant gives you glimpses of Eric and Alex but its enough to paint the picture that Alex was privileged with a seemingly nice family and that his actions were only justified to himself by how he was bullied in class by the jocks he hates. He killed people indiscriminately and he lacks room for redemption, where I think it'd be possible to find pity in Cal and Andre.

To juxtapose him against Johnny, who very clearly has a difficult home life, but good friends in school is SO so important in telling Alex's character. Elephant is a film where you have to inference what the themes are, its not directly shown to you like in Zero Day- That is why it is more of an artistic piece. - Johnny, even with a difficult home life, still tries to save and warn people and is even shown to STILL be looking after his drunkard father during the shit thats going down! The focus on the students is absolutely necessary and dragging out the scenes where they all cross paths just shows how many personal timelines are affected. Johnny comes out unscathed but within the window of 20 minutes, the Elias he had JUST spoken to is already presumed dead. Someone entirely wiped away from Johnny's life at the hands of Alex's selfishness and naivety.

Zero Day is a great film and it is dear to me, but it only really gets into Calvin and Andre's mind's and barely their personal life. It tracks their thought processes and their personal relationship, it shows you how involved they are with one another and really sells that even in death, they are all they have. Elephant is probably the polar opposite of Zero Day, and thinking critically about Elephant is sooo important. Im really tired of seeing people in the Elephant tag shit on it in favor of Zero Day as if they are near the same story. They didn't out-do each other, both films did an amazing job at telling stories of teenage tragedy.

Thanks for reading, i love these movies + i think theyre super important pieces of media !!

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Four

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Soldier Boy/ Ben (and Eric the black cat.)

Warnings: Language, mentions of divorce, mentions of manipulation, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

A/N: If you've noticed continuity errors regarding the divorce timeline, that is entirely my fault. I write these chapters on the fly, with the bare minimum on how the chapter will end, and the scope of the story. Excuses aside, I am making amends as I go. If you see any continuity errors, please let me know. Sometimes I just forget.

W/C: 1,726

Feeling lighter, thanks to Beau, you headed down after him. Checking your phone, you almost baulked at the time. It was half eleven at night. Where were they all going to sleep?

Two spare guest bedrooms were left free. One had been your ex-husband’s gaming room, and the other you’d wanted to turn into a nursery, but your ex had shot that idea down not long into the marriage. You’d talked about having kids, and he’d agreed. You’d show him cribs and strollers, and he’d smile and comment pleasantly. He fed into your dreams only to destroy them. You’d kept the gifts from family and friends, hiding them in boxes, unable to part with them no matter his insistence.

He had decided to sleep in that room during the separation. Out of fear of him finding the items, you hid them in your room, only to return them once he had left.

Now you had two guest rooms, both with double beds. You were sure none of them would share, and why would they? They were grown men, for God’s sake. That left the couch, which would not fit any of them on. You could barely fit on it. It was more of a loveseat and not a comfortable sleep. You knew from experience. It taxed the back if slept on for too long. This left you with the final option—your bed. And you hadn’t had a man in your bed since your ex a year and a half ago.

You scratched your chin lightly and walked with purpose towards the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks when you saw Ben. He sat at your table, a half-empty bottle of rosé clamped in his fist, and the rest was quickly following down his gullet. You knew for a fact it had been full the last time you’d checked your fridge.

After finishing the wine in mere seconds, he clunked the bottle down and belched loudly, then pronounced—

“You’ve got God awful taste in wine. A nun couldn’t get pissed offa that. Don’t suppose you’ve anything stronger?”

You blinked in astonishment.

“Uh, no. Only rosé.”

His lip curled, and he huffed but stayed seated. What could you do? You didn’t have the time to go to the store. He could wait.

“I’ll pick something up tomorrow.” You said pulling open a drawer.

He replied with a grunt as you were taking out paper straws. All equal in size, you cut one in half, then tucked them into your sweater pocket when you were finished. Behind you, a chair scraped back, and when you turned, Ben was rising to his feet, shield in arm.

“C’mon, I need to figure out where you’re all sleeping.”

“Oh,” His voice perked up. “Bet you’ve never slept with three blokes at the same time, eh?”

His eyes twinkled, and a smile slipped out. God, he was an asshole, but that smile…that smile made your stomach flutter.

“Lemme guess—one for each hole, right?” You said deadpan.

“You guessed it, sugar.”

You shook your head and patted his arm, striding past him to the living room. Dean was still inspecting the box, lips moving silently as he attempted to read the inscription. Working this whole thing out without his hunter contacts would take much longer. Beau had his fingers deep in Eric’s fur, who was purring loudly on the cowboy’s lap.

Ben sauntered in, smirk on his lips. He propped his shield down and perched against the couch’s arm, crossing his arms against his broad chest. Out of the three, he was the one that intimidated you the most.

You wiped your hands along your lounge bottoms. This needed sorting. It couldn’t wait any longer. You turned slightly, pulling out the straws, making sure the tops were of equal length, before presenting them to the boys.

“Pick one. This is gonna determine your sleeping arrangements.”

Dean looked up from the box, and Beau’s brows raised in wonderment. But they both reached forward, picking a straw. Each one was long, which left—

“So, what’s the short straw? The couch?” Ben inquired as he plucked the remaining straw from your hand.

“No.”

It was damn typical of him to get the shortest. It meant bunking with you. In your bed.

“The short straw is my bed. With me.”

“Ohoh.” Ben rubbed his hands together in glee. There was that twinkle in his eye again.

Oh, brother. You took the opportunity before something else came hurling out of his mouth.

“Lemme show Beau and Dean to their rooms, and tomorrow we’ll head into town and pick up some essentials.”

“Skin mags and lotion,” Flew out of Ben’s mouth. He nudged Dean beside him. “Gotta clean those pipes out, amirite?”

You sighed and scrubbed a hand down your face. Damn that man. Dean chuckled lightly but otherwise didn’t engage.

Before Ben could say anything more, you spoke up. “Why don’t I show you to your rooms.”

All three stood up. All right then. You picked up the box sets from the coffee table, quirking your eyebrows at Dean with a smile as you held the heavy set to your chest. You turned off the light and made your way upstairs. You showed Dean and Beau to their rooms, told them where the bathroom was and if they had any problems, told them which room was yours.

Then you retired to your room with Ben following.

“Betcha never slept with a Supe before, eh?” There was that teasing tone again.

He closed the door behind him and instantly started stripping. You looked away, heat rising in your neck and cheeks.

“Whatsa matter, sweetcheeks? Never seen a specimen as fine as myself before?” He chuckled lightly.

The box sets were getting heavy in your arms, so you dropped them onto the bed. Sighing, you knelt down and pulled out a suitcase from under the bed. In one of the pockets was a TSA-approved padlock.

Ben huffed a small laugh. “You think that piddly ass of a lock is gonna keep any of us out? I’m sure if we wanted, we could get past it. Real fuckin’ easy.”

You looked up. He only had his Supersuit pants on, top stuffed in his hands. He was in peak physical form. Perfect abs and pecs you wanted to run your hands over. Hard and toned, with thick biceps that could crush heads.

Damn.

You swallowed thickly.

He smirked.

“You wanna put your eyes back inside your head unless you’re lookin’ to ride the stallion?”

You closed your mouth and resumed your task—zipping and locking the suitcase.

“It’s a matter of principle. And respect. I wouldn’t delve into your belongings, so you won’t do it with mine.”

Ben snorted. “Believe what you wanna believe.”

“Well, I’m asking you not to.”

You pushed the suitcase back under the bed.

“Why you hiding them away anyway? Afraid we’ll watch our own shows?”

You rose to your feet. Now he had his Supe pants off and stood in his boxers.

“You know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.”

He raised his eyebrows as you snatched your pyjamas off the bed and headed for the ensuite. No way were you comfortable with changing in front of him.

“I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to.”

He laughed as you closed the door on him. Sitting on the toilet, you rested your head in your hands. Oh, why did it have to be him? He was so toxic, so destructive, but dammit, he was so fucking hot. You’d thought about him in the worst ways, and they’d always give you the hardest orgasms.

But this wasn’t you and your imagination. He was really in there, almost naked, teasing and testing you. The sight of his body conjured all kinds of things and would be used when appropriate.

You changed, did your business and brushed your teeth before heading out. Ben was sitting in bed on your side. He had his hands behind his head, wearing a smirk.

“That’s my side…but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

You dropped your clothes in the laundry basket and slipped into bed beside him. Now, how were you going to do this? Form a pillow blockade? No. He’d most likely laugh at that, and you didn’t have the pillows for it.

You shuffled your pillow down a little bit and laid down, making sure the back of your head only just touched the mattress and pulled your hair up in a pony. You turned to see Ben giving you a strange look.

“What the fuck? You special or something?”

You frowned. “No. I’m just…particular.” You had the duvet up to your chin, lying dead straight.

“You look like Dracula in his fucking coffin.”

“We all have quirks.”

He quirked his eyebrows.

“That’s saying something.”

He pushed himself from sitting to lying down, causing you to sway as he did. He leant on one arm, looking your way.

“You look like you haven’t had a shit in a week. You nervous?”

“Little bit, yeah. You’re a bit of a wild card, and it’s been a while since a man has been in the same bed as me.”

“Like how long?”

“A year and a half.”

“Wow. You must really be gagging for it, huh?”

You huffed a small laugh.

“Contrary to popular opinion, no, actually.”

“Well, despite what you may think of me, I’m not gonna jump on you. Though if I knew I’d be picking the short straw, I’d have asked you to go to the store sooner. Dry rubbin’ fuckin’ hurts.”

Huh?

Ohhh.

You pulled a face and stared up at the ceiling. Ben laughed at your reaction and turned out the light, finally putting his head on the pillow.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling and minutes later, you heard his snores. They were loud, like a bulldozer. You stuck your head under your pillow desperately trying to sleep, but, God, were they so fucking loud. In the end, you gave up. You slipped out of bed and headed for the linen closet. You grabbed extra blankets before going down to the living room. You made yourself comfortable on the sofa. Eric meowed quietly, jumped up, and you kissed his soft head. He curled up, and you closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to take over.

Tags

@deans-spinster-witch, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican

[tropes-and-tales]

Team Prime, Part One

CW:  Unrequited love; pining; heavy angst.

Word Count:  5349

Other pieces: This is part of a mini-series.

AN:  Not beta-read; barely proof-read. An angsty companion piece to @youvebeenlivingfictional's Jake Seresin piece (and upcoming Bradley Bradshaw piece).

When your sister, Hannah, gets engaged to her long-term boyfriend, she chooses you over your other sisters to be her maid of honor.

“Maid of horrors, more like,” you grumble, but you’re secretly touched by the trust she puts in you.  She and Eric have dated since high school, and they’ve been through a lot—mostly long-distance during the years as she went to college and graduate school and as he joined the Navy.  And yet here they are.  Still together.  Still in love.  Ready to make it official-official.

“Eric’s best friend from the Navy will be the best man,” Hannah tells you.  “I met him a few times.  Bob Floyd.  He’s nice.  You’ll like him.”

Bob Floyd.  Something about the name puts you in mind of a middle aged man with strong opinions about lawn maintenance and grilling meats, so when you finally meet the baby-faced Bob with his bright blue eyes and stammering flush at the engagement party, you find yourself surprised, knocked back on your heels.

-----

You were never the sort of girl who dreamt about her wedding day, but when Hannah foists much of the wedding planning onto you, you decide then and there to elope if you ever meet someone you want to marry.

The cake tasting wouldn’t be bad, but Hannah has an entire binder of ideas she gleaned from the internet. It’s difficult to enjoy the white cake with raspberry compote, for example, when you’re worried about how the pearl luster dust will hold up under the California sun.

The venue only rents out some things in-house, so you spend two entire weekends tracking down a dance floor, chairs, linens.  You pick the wrong linens (white instead of cream), and you have a minor breakdown that night, crying in the shower at the stress of planning a party that isn’t even for you.

It’s a moment of weakness.  At the engagement party, Bob gave you his number and mumbled shyly, “if you need help.  You know, with the planning or anything.”

You hadn’t thought of it originally, but you’re tired and figure, why not reach out?  He offered to help.  Worst he can say is ‘no.’

He doesn’t say no.  He says tell me what you need.

-----

What you need:  help with the menu.  Help with the seating arrangements.  Help with the joint bachelor and bachelorette party.  

For the menu, the two of you do a whirlwind tour of the local catering companies.  Two of the three companies confuse you and Bob as the bride and groom, and you laugh to see Bob’s face turn bright red, the way he stammers to correct them.

“I apologize,” one woman tells you.  “You make a really cute couple.”

Afterwards, pleasantly stuffed from peach and goat cheese crostini and tri-tip, you reach across the driver’s seat to where Bob sits to your right.  You poke him lightly on his still-flushed cheek, call him really cute…which makes his face burn even hotter.

For the seating arrangements, he spends an evening at your apartment in Monterey.  You split a pizza and a six-pack, and you pore over the massive guest list.  You list out the people who can’t sit together—old family grudges, friendly rivalries—and you get a rough chart pulled together for Hannah’s inspection.

For the joint party—by then, you and Bob work like a well-oiled machine.  You book hotel rooms in Vegas.  You book tickets to shows, reservations to restaurants.  You book dance lessons, since Hannah insists that everyone in the wedding party learn how to not stumble around the dance floor for the first dances.  You send out itineraries, details.  You collect money.  

When it’s done, you sit back on your couch and heave a sigh of relief.  Your head lolls back, and you turn to look at Bob.

“Team Prime strikes again,” he says with a soft smile, and you hold up a hand for a high five.  It’s an inside joke between the two of you, a dumb joke about how you’re the first bridesmaid and he’s the first groomsman, the best of the best, the chosen-above-all-others.  The Primes.

“Hell yeah we did,” you reply with an answering smile, and that’s when you first feel it:  the pleasant little dip in your stomach at the sight of his smile, his blue eyes.  The first little tremor of infatuation.  Of burgeoning love.

-----

Two months pass, and after the initial press of planning, things stabilize.  With Bob Floyd’s help, the wedding plans firm up, and you can breathe.

You stay in touch.  You trade daily texts, checking in on each other.  Sharing funny memes.  Talking about movies you’ve seen, books you’ve read.  Joking on the side about the main wedding party group chat.

Then the bachelor and bachelorette party in Vegas in upon you.  You text Bob about your fear of flying.

Reassure me that it’s safe, you plead via text.  Tell me I’m safer flying than driving.

You’re safer flying than driving.

You snort.  Funny, you type back.

He doesn’t text anything in reply.  Instead, he calls you.

Bob Floyd, graduate of Top Gun, walks you through the physics of flight.  His soft voice, his slight drawl that comes out when he’s comfortable….he soothes you with his matter-of-fact discussion of lift and thrust, of yaw and roll.  He tells you that planes are stringently designed to be safe, maintained for safety.  That pilots train rigorously while any dumbass can fumble their way into a driver’s license.

He talks to you for an hour.  He doesn’t quite talk you out of your fear; he doesn’t slay that dragon entirely, but he makes it smaller.  Less scary.

“We’re on the same flight out tomorrow,” he points out.  “We can try to switch seats and sit together.”

That first little dip in your stomach was nothing compared to the roiling now.  It’s such a damned cliché, yet here you are:  the maid of honor falling for the best man.  Like a stupid Hallmark movie, yet you can’t stop the wide grin from splitting your face.

The next morning, you are able to switch seats after all, and for the entire short flight to Vegas, Bob holds your clammy hand in his, twists himself in his seat so that he can talk to you, low and soft, explaining each bump and lurch of the plane, making them seem like nothing scary at all.

-----

“You’re more sure on your feet than I would have expected,” you tease, and Bob gifts you a shy smile as he turns you gracefully across the dance floor.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.”

You hum in agreement, then look around the studio at the other coupled-off bridesmaids and groomsmen. After an hour-long lesson in ballroom dancing, few people other than you and Bob have grasped the steps of the easy waltz.

Two couples have given up altogether and are standing haplessly where they stopped on the dance floor.  One couple is sorta doing their own thing, that awkward swaying shuffle that kids used to do at middle school dances.

Hannah and Eric are giving it an honest shot, but even from where you and Bob are, you can hear them bickering over who needs to lead, over which step is next.  You glance at your own partner and see him watching them too.  There’s a faint frown on his face.

“I think we’re the best dancers of the bunch,” he whispers, conspiratorial.  

“I think you’re right,” you whisper back.

He turns his gaze back to you, and his returning smile makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners.  “Do you think if we show them up, they’ll kick us out of the wedding party?” he jokes.

“Oh, please,” you groan.  “If there’s even a chance, I say we go for it.  I’m so damned tired of earnest, late-night discussions about freesias and cake toppers.”

He laughs, and he squeezes your hand lightly as he turns you, an advanced move the instructor showed you earlier.  “It can’t be that bad.”

You settle back into his hold and look at him.  He’s been the most surprising part of the entire miserable wedding planning, this buddy of the groom that you’ve been paired with.  Not a typical military guy at all.  Bob is too sweet, too kind, too polite to be a complete dork…but even if he was, you’d still like him.  He’s an easy guy to like.  An easy guy to fall for.

“Nah,” you reply.  “It’s not that bad at all.”

-----

The first day in Vegas is dance lessons and a nice dinner.  The second day is a helicopter tour, which you politely skip, and then dinner and then dancing at a club.  You and Bob had managed to book a VIP space, and you both volunteered to stay sober to help wrangle the drunks at the end of the night.

So for the first day and much of the second, you remain ignorant.  You lean into all the feelings of your growing infatuation, but it doesn’t feel like your usual harmless crush.  You like Bob Floyd.  You really like him.  There’s not a single ounce of artifice to him—he is genuinely just himself.  Smart.  Driven, in a quiet, steady way.  Kind and funny.  Despite his outwardly nerdy appearance, he seems fairly comfortable with who he is.  He possesses a quiet confidence that you’ve never noticed in a man before.

You’ve dated in the past.  You even had a semi-serious boyfriend, dated him for three years and talked vaguely of getting engaged, getting married.  But nothing ever came of it; neither of you felt that elusive tug on the heartstrings that the other person was the one.  So you broke it off amicably, and a month later, he met his would-be wife.

You remain single, and it rarely bothers you.  You’re alone but not lonely, and you like your own company.  You have your sisters.  You have your coworkers and friends.  

But in meeting Bob Floyd, you start to see the possibilities of finding someone and building a life with them…as long as that someone is…well…Bob Floyd.

For the first day and much of the second, you lean into the burgeoning fantasy.  You play out how the wedding day will be.  The reception.  You wonder if Hannah will aim her bouquet toss at you, and if Eric will aim the garter at Bob.  You wonder if there will be a moment on the dance floor, or maybe somewhere quieter.  If Bob doesn’t make a move, you decide, you will.  

The night at the club starts out great.  The VIP area is elevated and set apart, so you can watch the dance floor but still have space to yourself.  The champagne flows, then everyone switches to liquor.  You and Bob are like hovering parents, easing glasses of water into people’s hands, checking in with them to make sure they are still coherent, cognizant.

It’s so damned easy to fall into the fantasy for these last few moments.  There’s a sort of fraternity among the sober people in the club or bar:  the clear, alert eyes that find each other.  The knowing head nod, the little shrugs as if to say, “what can you do?” as you corral and tend to your drunken charges.  

You and Bob—you catch each other’s eyes as you get a fresh pitcher of water.  You smile at each other in the dim club lights.  He rolls his eyes once, elaborate, and you laugh.

And when he wants to talk to you, he stands close, dips his head.  Puts his mouth right near your ear so he doesn’t have to shout over the bassline, and that sets a low, licking flame of desire deep in your core, his warm breath fanning over you as he gently makes fun of your sisters, the other groomsmen.  You wonder what he would do if you kissed him, if you took his hand after everyone was tucked in their beds and drew him into your room.  Maybe you could kiss him, you think, you could press even a soft kiss to his cheek and see how he reacts.  Maybe you could—

“I told Eric I don’t want any of this,” Bob says.  You turn and look at him, and he gestures broadly with his hand.  At the bridal party, half-debauched and fully drunk.  At the wider space of the dark, loud club.

“Sorry?” 

He dips his head near your ear again.  “I said, I already told Eric I don’t want a big production.”

“For what?” you ask, but you already know—your body already knows, even if your brain hasn’t quite caught up.  The flickering heat of your nascent arousal is doused, and your stomach flips like you might throw up.

“For my bachelor’s party.  I just want a beer and poker night.  Nothing wild.  My fiancée would kill me anyway, but laid-back is more my scene.”

“For your…” you start to say, and then your brain catches up.  “Oh.  Oh.”

And then sweet, unassuming Bob Floyd tells you all about her:  the high school sweetheart, the long-distance fiancée who is finishing up grad school.  The woman finally ready to set a date and make it official-official after all these years.

The woman who will be Bob Floyd’s wife someday soon.

“Congratulations,” you manage to say, and you manage to make it sound convincing, and then you manage to make it to the restroom where you clutch the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle grip.  You manage to take deep, gulping breaths as you choke down your sudden, bitter disappointment.

-----

Bob, Eric, most of the bridal party…they don’t really know you, so it’s easy to mask how you’re feeling.

Your sisters?  Hannah?  They recognize your poor acting performance from the start.

They must have conferred together, and they must have elected Hannah as their spokeswoman because on the second to last morning, she comes to your room, links her arm through yours, and says, “let’s grab breakfast, just you and me.”  Her voice has that artificial cheeriness to it, so you guess what’s up.

“I’m not hungry.”  You tug your arm from hers, turn away from her.  You walk over to the window and peek out around the curtains to see the sun about to rise, the sky a pink wash of color.

“Bullshit.  You’re always hungry.”  Hannah follows you into the room, and at the window, she wraps an arm around your waist, hugs you from behind.  A few inches taller than you, she hooks her chin on your shoulder and gazes out the window too.

“My stomach is off,” you lie.  “I think I ate a bad oyster at that buffet.”

She hums, doesn’t reply for a long moment.  The two of you watch the sun break the line of the horizon, washing the cityscape in a bright yellow light.  

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” Hannah asks.  “I know I’ve been a lot the past few months, but I’m always here for you.  Always.”

You swallow thickly against the lump in your throat.  “I know.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

You don’t bother to deny it.  You nod.

“You love him?”

You shrug, jostle her where she’s perched on your shoulder.  “I thought I did.”

Another hum, another beat of silence.  “Probably wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t love him.”

“What makes you think I’m hurting?”

“You’re my little sister.  I know when you’re in pain.”

You huff out a quiet breath, a near-laugh.  “When did you get so damned wise?”

She chuckles, squeezes her arms comfortingly around your waist.  “I was born wise.”

You sigh, lean your head against hers.  “That makes one of us.”

Hannah squeezes you again, then lays a smacking kiss on your cheek before releasing you.  “C’mon,” she says.  “Seriously, let me take you out for breakfast.  Everything seems easier on a full stomach.”

“Hannah—”

She’s a few inches taller than you, and she’s much stronger.  She man-handles you away from the window, turns you around to face her.

“I’m the bride-to-be.  You can’t tell me no,” she teases, but then her expression turns serious as she studies you closer.

“You know there’s someone out there just waiting for you,” she adds, somber, and she gazes at you so earnestly that tears prickle in your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you start to cry.

-----

It’s dumb, you decide.  A dumb crush.

You’ve known the man a handful of months.  He was helpful, and you were stressed, so maybe the help seemed outsized.  Bob Floyd is just a regular guy, you decide, and you got wrapped up in his orbit because he seemed nice and kind and helpful and funny.  Which he is all of those things, but to fall in love over it?

Dumb.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

You make the decision over breakfast with Hannah.  Your wise older sister.  She’s right, you think:  life seems a little less unbearable when your stomach is full of eggs benedict and mimosa.

The rest of the day is sightseeing before another group dinner that evening.  It’s your last day and night in Vegas; you fly out in the morning.  You and Bob are on the same flight home, and you think—you honestly think—that you can get through it.  

It’s just a crush.  It will die off soon enough.

But over the course of the day, once the group has reconvened, Bob sticks close to you.  He’s always right there.  He’s in your line of sight, or right at your shoulder, close enough that you can hear his quiet breathing, or when he chuckles under his breath.  Close enough to smell the cleanly masculine scent of him.

You aren’t sure why he never mentioned being engaged before.  You suppose it never came up naturally, even though the two of you did the bulk of the wedding planning together.  There were a hundred opportunities, you guess, for him to say, “oh, I’ll have to keep this in mind for my own wedding” or “I should tell my fiancée about this.”

Over the course of the day, and now that the fact of his own engagement is out, Bob chats with you about it. You get the entire fucking story.  High school sweethearts who broke up briefly when they went to college in separate states.   How they reconnected over summer vacation their sophomore year.  How they’ve been together ever since.  

How Bob proposed once and was rejected.  “It was too soon,” he tells you with a rueful shake of his head, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from pointing out that when he proposed, the two of them had been dating for years.

How Bob joined the Navy.  How he kept his budget tight to save up for a better ring.  How his fiancée—Jessica, her name is—finally said yes.  

And now, he tells you how the engagement has stretched on and on, so much so that his parents stopped teasing him and started asking when the hell he and Jessica are going to finish the thing.

“Eric and Hannah,” he says, jerking his chin in their direction.  “They were the kick in the ass we needed.  Once they got engaged, we finally set a date.”

“Yeah?”  Your voice comes out a rough croak, and you’re grateful for the huge sunglasses hiding your eyes from him.

“Next June.  A little more than a year from now.”

You force a smile.  “That sounds lovely.”

Bob nods, then grins at you.  “All this planning, it was good practice for me.  Now I know what to look for in a caterer and a linen-rental company.”

“I’m glad.”  You try to keep your voice light, conversational, but something in your tone must clue him in that something is off.  His grin fades, and he peers at you closer through his thick glasses, his blue eyes swimming behind the lenses.

“Everything okay?  You seem…off.”

You force the smile back on your face, and you swallow back the shakiness in your voice.  Of course Bob would notice that you aren’t yourself.  Any other guy wouldn’t even register your more taciturn nature over the past few days, but Bob seems to miss very little, and he’s kind enough to care, to ask after you.

“Just tired.  I never sleep well in a hotel room.”

He peers at you a moment longer, then nods, but his expression looks doubtful.  “You should head back to the room early and rest,” he advises.  

It’s a good idea.  It would get you away from him, at least.  You nod, and then you go to find Hannah, tell her you’re dipping out early and will meet back up for dinner.

-----

It’s the final dinner when you finally snap.  You reach the end of your ability to sit and smile and nod your head, and your earlier bravado melts away.

Of course Bob sits beside you.  Of course Hannah and Eric are the picture of true, enduring love.  Of course you’re feeling sorry for yourself, positively maudlin, and then Bob—between bites of steak—tells you that Jessica can make it to the wedding after all, and not to worry because Hannah was able to find space for her at the reception.

“No need to redo those seating charts,” he chuckles, and then he tells you how excited he is for you to meet Jessica, how much he’s told her about the wedding planning, how much he’s learned, how much he can’t wait to get started on his own wedding planning.

It’s too much.  Too much to take.  You nod weakly at him, push your own meal around your plate with the tines of your fork.  You keep your head bent, and you miss the looks people start to shoot at each other as they finally notice that the usually-chatty, usually-chipper maid of honor has gone sullen and silent.

It’s Hannah who gets up, makes a show of saying she needs to use the restroom.  When you lift your head to look at her, she makes a “come along” gesture, and you stand up and follow her.

In the bathroom, she cups your face and stares at you, frowns.  

“You look like shit,” she declares after a beat.  “Seriously, are you okay?”

“’m fine,” you lie.

“I know you’re not.  Why don’t we get out of here, huh?  Get some air?”

You shake your head.  “It’s the last night here.  Please don’t…don’t let me ruin it.”

She laughs, then smushes your cheeks together.  “You couldn’t ruin it if you tried.  C’mon…you did all the shit-work for me, planning this wedding.  The least I can do is get you out of here.”

You shake your head again, more emphatic.  “No.  Why don’t I just go?  You can make up an excuse that I’m not feeling well.”  You bite your lip, swallow hard against the lump in your throat.  “I just can’t be around him anymore right now.  I just need space to get my head right.”

“Oof, you got it bad,” she says with a sympathetic cluck of her tongue, but then she nods.  “Why don’t I go grab your purse, and then I’ll make something up.”

You offer her a shaky smile.  “Thank you.”

She nods again, then kisses your forehead, more motherly than sisterly.  Hannah always had a maternal streak to her as the eldest sister, always was the first to tend to you and your sisters’ scraped knees and bruised hearts.  She’ll be the family’s matriarch someday, you realize:  the person who will hold you all together, who will gather you up for holidays and celebrations and moments of grief long after your parents are gone.

“A little distance from Bob Floyd will cure what ails you,” she jokes, and you have to agree.  Tomorrow you’re supposed to fly out with Bob, and the thought of his hand in yours, his reassuring voice right by your ear…you can’t do it.  You’ll snap and say something you won’t be able to take back.

That evening, in the hotel room, you call the airline and cancel your ticket.  You book a rental car instead.

-----

You don’t see Bob Floyd again.  The two of you are supposed to meet in the lobby the next morning to share a ride to the airport, but you wake up earlier and leave alone, bound for the rental car part of the airport.

Decided to drive back, you text Bob.  Enjoy your flight and thanks for all your help!

He doesn’t text you back.  He calls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his voice is deeper, edged in real concern.  “You’re driving back to California?  It’s eight hours or more.”

“I just wanted to clear my head.”  It’s not a lie, and the reason falls easily from your lips.

“But you’ve not been sleeping well, and you were sick last night,” he points out.  “Should you even be driving?  Flying is safer anyway, and it’s only a two hour flight—”

You cut him off gently.  You tell him that you’ve already cancelled your ticket, that an eight-hour drive is nothing.  That you want a little alone time to think.  That a road trip through the desert with the music blasting is sometimes just the cure for what ails.

“I promise I’m okay to drive.”  You’re touched by his concern, and you realize that your bravado was false, that it isn’t just a dumb crush.  Bob Floyd is a genuinely good man.  Of course you fell for him.

And if it isn’t just a dumb crush, then the only way to handle it is to endure it.  There’s no cure but time.

“Well, let me know when you make it home,” he finally concedes.  “Team Prime looks out for its own.”

You smile in spite of your crushing self-pity.  “Team Prime.  I’ll text you when I’m back.”

You end the call, and you situate yourself in your rental car.  Challenging situations always make you want to flee, but you were right too:  a road trip is a good time to think, to turn over your muddle thoughts and sort them out.  To clear the head, ease the heart.  

You pull out into the Nevada sunshine and turn towards home:  the sun rising at your back in the east, and maybe the possibility of finding love, as Hannah said, to the west.

*****

Bob frowns when you cut that call, and for the entire plane ride home (the seat beside him still empty; there were no standbys), he mulls it over.

You had been so gregarious, so funny and sweet in the months since he’s met you.  Despite the overwhelming pressure of the wedding planning, you were level-headed.  Managed to joke about it all.  When he stepped in to help, you thanked him profusely, called him a life-saver, called him your hero.  

It was easy to let it get to his head, a little.  People rarely noticed Lieutenant Robert Floyd, and it made him feel good to be seen by such a sweetly cheerful woman.

Something happened in Vegas, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.  It’s like a switch was thrown.  The chipper demeanor disappeared, but it wasn’t like you were sullen or angry.  You seemed pained, almost, on the verge of tears a few times that he noticed.  You tried to pretend you were okay, and that made it sadder, more perplexing.  Whatever you were going through, you were trying to power through it, hide it.

He tried to draw you out by talking about his own impending wedding, talking about Jessica…but after a while, something about that line of conversation made his stomach dip and twist unpleasantly.  

He had been looking forward to the flight home.  That got to his head too, the way you clung to his hand the entire flight to Vegas, the way you needed him to get through it.  The shaky exhale you gave when the plane finally touched down.  The shaky, embarrassed laugh, then the half-hug in your seats, the two of you twisted towards each other, as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and thanked him profusely.

He likes being needed, he finds.  Not in an extreme way, or an unhealthy codependent way.  He just likes being needed by someone once in a while, for little things like that—sketching out a seating chart, being a bulwark against a fear of flying.  Jessica never seems to need him, and it—

Bob pushes the thought out of his head.  He won’t compare the two of you.  He won’t.

The entire flight home, he mulls you over.  The drive back to base too.  He calls Jessica to hear her voice and he gives her the abridged version of the Vegas trip.  He runs errands:  restocks his refrigerator, does laundry, presses his uniform shirts and pants.  He goes for a jog, then hits the gym on base, lifts until his arms burn.

He goes home and showers, and then he settles in front of the TV.  He dozes off and wakes in the middle of the night with a start, his heart hammering in his chest and the taste of pennies in his mouth.

He has no idea what’s wrong until he checks his phone, notes the time…and notes that you haven’t called or texted.

Bob scrubs his face with his hands.  He makes his way to the bathroom, splashes himself with water.  He studies his own reflection, and even with his glasses off, he can see the worry writ all over his expression.

Maybe she got tired and pulled off for the night, he thinks.  Or maybe she just forgot to let me know she’s home.

That’s what he imagines when he moves to his bed and tries to fall back asleep—he imagines you home in your own apartment, the cozy little space that is so perfectly you.  He imagines you returning the rental car, showering off the road dust, then turning in for a long, well-earned sleep.

When he finally drifts off, his dreams are unsettling, and he wakes early, coated in a thin sheen of sweat despite the AC running at top capacity.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters aloud to the empty bedroom.  He can feel it in his gut.  Something is off, and just as he makes up his mind to call you, to check in on you, even if it’s rude and even if he wakes you up, his phone lights up with an incoming call.

From Eric.

Eric, his best friend, his oldest friend.  Eric, who rarely calls and who prefers to text.  Eric, who only calls—especially at four-thirty in the morning—when there’s bad news.  

Eric, the most unflappable man that Bob has ever known, openly, obviously trying to hide the tears in his voice.  In the background, Bob can hear a woman crying—Hannah—as Eric relays the news:  the only other member of Team Prime, the best of the best like him, was struck in a head-on collision by a speeding driver.  

That you were life-flighted to the nearest trauma center, but that the prospects for your survival are so bleak that the attending surgeon told your father over the phone to not entertain much hope.  That the doctor asked if you had a religion, if there was perhaps a priest or pastor or rabbi…someone who might come and offer final blessing, last rites, whatever.

“We’re trying to get everyone here,” Eric says.  “Dude, what do I…I mean, what can I even do?  If a doctor says…fuck, Bob, I don’t know what to do—”

Bob says the only thing he can think of, an echo of what he texted to you all those months ago.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, and he keeps his voice level despite the emotion—shock, sorrow, burgeoning guilt—coursing through him like electricity.  “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

doberman

stan marsh / reader

— ♡

cw | violence, doberman bf!stan, black cat gf!reader, smoking, swearing, protective best friends kenny & kyle

characters are 17-18 in this!

running. you were running, chest heaving, legs burning, face contorted. you were being chased by some aggressive gang banger bitches you’d just pissed off with your loud mouth, and boy were they furious. you were a track star all your years of school and they were on your ass.

you could only hope and pray that stan, kyle, and kenny were in their usual spot under the bleachers of the stadium. you could feel your heart ready to give out just as you rounded the corner into the stadium, your feet slapping the pavement as you dashed towards the bleachers. the amount of fear coursing through you was the only thing keeping you on your feet. the second you smelled smoke, you could feel the shout bubbling from your lips.

“stan!” you shrieked, a relieved grin lighting up your face as your body finally collided with your boyfriend’s. he caught you with one arm, the other holding a cigarette to his lips. the glance he cast you was nonchalant, merely a raised eyebrow to express his confusion. you watched the cogs in his brain turn as his eyes connected with the bodies of the females you’d been running from.

all three of the girls were stopped dead in their tracks, eyes huge and chests heaving. the look of fear on their faces brought a bit of pride to your chest, what with stan’s innate protective nature that truly only made itself known once, when he’d beaten the shit out of eric cartman for calling you a cock-sucking jew bitch (which truly made no sense, because you weren’t jewish).

stan looked back down at you, huffed, and put his cigarette out on the metal brace beside his head. you thanked him silently via a nod and a kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. the absence of stan’s body heat left you a bit cold in the frigid autumn air, but kenny’s lanky arm thrown over your shoulders and kyle’s hand settled in the center of your back more than made up for it.

you watched as stan stalked towards the girls, cracking his knuckles in a way that was very reminiscent of a cinematic high school fight scene. the sight almost made you want to laugh, almost being the key word, because just as the urge came, it left. stan was pretty damn attractive, all three of the girls shrinking down as he towered over them.

“get lost,” he spat, and get lost they did. you let out a cheer, kenny placing a celebratory cigarette between your lips as kyle lit it. stan turned swiftly on his heels and dragged his feet towards the three of you, his hand cupped beneath your chin. he plucked the cig from between your lips, placed a gentle kiss there, and took a puff from it.

“you really gotta stop riling up bitches you can’t handle on your own, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you scoffed. kenny shoved your shoulder, your head snapping to shoot him a glare.

“you deserved it, loud mouth,” the blonde chuckled, and kyle nodded along with a half smile. you rolled your eyes and snatched your cigarette from between stan’s finger, taking a long drag. then you settled it right back between his extended and expecting fingers, and spun on your heel, and started marching away.

“that’s alright, babe,” the raven haired man called after you, and you could picture the smug grin on his face. “i’ll just tell my dad you don’t want the tegridy family discount anymore.”

that was reason enough for you to turn your little spitfire ass back around.

[jinkoh]

winning

haknyeon x fem!reader

summary: haknyeon is a good friend, so of course he wants eric to listen to his heart and be happy. that's the only reason he tells him not to get back together with you—or is it?

tags: friends (?) to ?, suggestive, hooking up, (light) manipulation, alcohol consumption, rich kid au, unrequited love, non-linear story telling

wc: 2.5k

a/n: you could consider this a gossip girl au--iykyk lol anway this is kind of a mess but i had to get it out of my system so here we are

Masterlist

Haknyeon watched you with hawk eyes as you came through the door of the hotel bar, your steps sharp and your make-up just the tiniest bit smudged. His instincts told him something must have happened with Eric—or maybe it was the fact that he remembered you were supposed to be having a very special date with him tonight, planning to take things a step further. You pulled up the stool next to him to sit down and immediately looked for the bartender, who seemed busy chatting with some girls at the other end of the counter.

“What brings you here?” Haknyeon asked, propping up his chin on the palm of his hand, “Weren’t you supposed to spend the night elsewhere?”

“Shut up, Hak,” you scoffed, still trying to get the bartender’s attention.

“Don’t be like that, sunshine,” he said with a smile, pushing his drink in your direction. “Tell me what happened, I’ll lend you an ear.” 

You didn’t hesitate to take the glass and down it in one go. “As if I still need to tell you. I’m sure Eric told you he was going to dump me, and you watched me run into this disaster of a night, probably laughing behind my back that I thought I could save this relationship if I—,” you interrupted yourself before putting the words out there, opting to wave for the bartender instead, who finally noticed you and moved to refill your—Haknyeon’s—glass. Meanwhile Haknyeon was just staring at you in disbelief.

“He dumped you?” He felt genuinely surprised. He did know that Eric had been acting a little weird these days, but he never thought he would actually consider breaking up with you, not when Eric’s family was so keen on your relationship.

“Don’t even pretend to care.”

You tried so hard to look composed, your pride keeping you from breaking down, but Haknyeon saw the way your hands trembled when you lifted the refilled glass to your lips.

“But I do,” he whispered, “I do care.”

Haknyeon’s mind was stuck elsewhere, cold and empty bed sheets mainly, so he was barely able to pay attention to what his friend was saying—at least until your name suddenly got mentioned.

“I think I’ll get back together with y/n.” Eric said it so casually, as if that weren’t the worst news Haknyeon had ever heard. He stopped in his tracks, feet rooted to the park’s pebbled path. 

“What?”

“Maybe the break up was kinda rash.”

“Was it really? You said it was for the best when you broke up with her. Why suddenly change your mind? Realized you love her after all?”

Eric bit his lower lip. “It’s not that,” he mumbled. “It's just—it's really important to my family that I stay with her. They even brought up Grandma's engagement ring.”

“The ring, huh?” Haknyeon tried to play it cool, huffing a weak laugh, “It’s that serious?”

“They need that deal with her mom and she might not invest because of the break up…” 

Haknyeon could tell from the way his shoulders slumped that Eric wasn’t happy about this. He didn’t want to get back together with you, he didn’t want to toy with your feelings like that, but he didn’t want to disappoint his family either.

“Still,” Haknyeon looked at his friend with concern, “Shouldn’t you listen to your heart on this? Think it through before you do anything. Don’t be a pushover, don’t make yourself miserable.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Eric kicked a pebble with his foot, “But I’ve already texted her to meet up tonight. Talk things through, you know?

“You—what?”

He shrugged and it looked truly pitiful. “They really put pressure on me, you know?”

Haknyeon sighed, running his hand through his hair. He’d been convinced things between the two of you were over, for good. “But you don’t love her,” he reasoned. 

 “I’m sure I could, if I just try hard enough.”

“It's not about trying, Eric. And even then, are you sure you can make her love you?"

“What do you mean?” Eric looked genuinely confused at his words, perhaps even hurt. “She loves me—she said she did?”

“You broke up with her. She moved on.”

“How do you know?” There was a frown etched onto his features.

Haknyeon pressed his lips together, a show of how painful it was to be the harbinger of bad news to his good friend. “I didn't want to tell you, but she hooked up with someone else after your break up.”

“Who is it? And who told you that?”

“Does it matter? She doesn’t want you anymore, Eric."

It was a lie. You would always want him, Haknyeon knew that very well. He just wished it was different.

Haknyeon hadn’t met with you since the night of your break up with Eric, but god, how he’d longed to see you again. You looked pretty, all dolled up, and Haknyeon hated that it wasn’t for him.

“What’s up, sunshine?” He put on a smile, sitting down next to you at the very same counter where you’d shared drinks just a week ago.

“What do you want, Hak?”

“Is that any way to greet a friend?” With a small wave of his hand the bartender poured him a drink and sat it down in front of him.

“Whatever, just don’t get too comfortable. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Eric?” He took a sip of his drink, “are you sure he’ll come?”

“He’s just running late,” you insisted, nursing your own glass, but Haknyeon could see the insecurity in your eyes.

“Wanna bet, if you’re so confident?”

“Sure, bring it on.”

A smile spread on Haknyeon’s lips. “Alright. If you win, I’ll owe you a favor.”

“Anything goes?”

“Anything.”

“And if I lose?”

“You’ll be mine.” He held out his hand, “Deal?”

You frowned. “What kind of bet is that?”

“Where did your confidence go? There is nothing to worry about, unless of course, you don’t think he’ll show up after all?” Haknyeon knew you were too prideful to back down from the challenge, and you proved him right when you took his hand.

“Fine. Deal. But now leave, he'll come any second and I don't want you to be here."

"As you wish." He took his glass and sat down in one of the corner booths instead, with a good view of the door. He knew Eric wouldn’t come, he knew, and yet there was still this underlying fear that his friend would come waltzing in here, as if today's conversation had never happened. Maybe Haknyeon hadn’t been able to convince him, maybe he'd changed his mind, maybe he'd realized in the face of losing you that he was in love with you after all—there were too many variables for Haknyeon to feel truly calm. Not that he would ever let it show, though. No, Haknyeon nursed his drink with class and confidence, indulging whoever came to start a conversation with him and pretending not to grow more nervous with every second. That was, until you appeared at the booth, not meeting his gaze when you laid your phone onto the table in front of him.

“Let’s just go,” you said, already strutting towards the elevator.

Haknyeon’s eyes dropped to your phone screen, Eric’s chat open for him to see with the newest message being mere minutes old.

i’m sorry, y/n.

He pressed his lips together. Of course, he’d known it would be like this, hoped for it too, but he still felt sorry for you. You didn’t deserve this, but neither did you deserve to stay in a relationship that was only held up out of a sense of duty. You deserved to be loved. 

Haknyeon scrambled to his feet, emptying his glass and pocketing your phone before hurrying after you. The elevator arrived with a ping the second he caught up, and he followed you into the small, mirrored space. You didn’t look up, nor did you press any buttons, so Haknyeon did it in your stead, going up to his penthouse suite.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when the doors closed, handing you back your phone. You just let out a scoff. “Don’t bother. You must be so happy about this, you love winning.”

“Yeah,” he stepped a little closer, his hands ghosting over your upper arm, “but I love you more. I love you.” He meant it, but he knew you didn’t believe him. Or maybe you just needed it to be untrue, because it made things easier for you. He couldn’t blame you.

“Sure,” your voice was lifeless as you wrapped your arms around his neck, still not meeting his gaze as you walked him back until he bumped into the handrail on the wall of the elevator, “I love you too.”

“No, you don’t,” his hands found your lower back and his nose lightly nuzzled your neck.

“No,” you agreed before you tilted your head and brushed your lips against his, “but just for tonight I can pretend.”

He kissed you back, only pulling away when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. You pulled him out into the small hallway to the door of his suite waiting for him to unlock it, but he hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

You raised an eyebrow, “This was your bet.”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t matter if you don’t want this.”

“Where are these qualms coming from suddenly, Hak?” You leaned into him, your lips ghosting over his, “It’s too late for reservations. Did you forget that we already crossed the line once?”

As if he could ever forget about it, as if he hadn’t spent every waking moment thinking about it since it happened. “Doesn’t mean we have to cross it again.”

You reached into his jacket, fishing out the key card from the inner pocket. “But I want to.”

“Fine,” he pulled you into a kiss before he let go, giving you the room to unlock the door, “but don’t complain later.”

“What brings you here?” Haknyeon asked, propping up his chin on the palm of his hand, “Weren’t you supposed to spend the night elsewhere?”

“Shut up, Haknyeon,” you scoffed, still trying to get the bartender’s attention.

“Don’t be like that, sunshine,” he said with a smile, pushing his drink in your direction. “Tell me what happened, I’ll lend you an ear.” 

“As if I still need to tell you. I’m sure Eric told you he was going to dump me, and you watched me run into this disaster of a night, probably laughing behind my back because I thought maybe I could save this relationship if I—”

“He dumped you?” 

“Don’t even pretend to care.”

“But I do,” he whispered into his glass, too quiet for you to hear over the noise of the bar, “I do care.”

“Just do what you do best: distract me,” you added with another sip from your drink.

A grin played on Haknyeon’s lips. If that was what you wanted, he could do that. “I know just the place,” he said, getting up from his stool and holding out his hand for you to take. 

“Lead the way,” you replied, taking the offer and letting him guide you out of the hotel bar and into the city’s nightlife. 

As the night went on, a few drinks too many on either side, you started to loosen up, forgetting about your pain and heartbreak. Haknyeon loved seeing you like that, smiling and dancing without inhibition. He hadn’t seen you laugh so wild and free in a long time, not since things with Eric had started to go downhill, and even though he hated that you’d been hurt, he loved to see this side of you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, once you were in the back of his car, Haknyeon’s driver taking you back, “For the ride. And for the distraction.” You turned your head to look at him, red lips and flushed cheeks, and Haknyeon couldn’t help gazing at you, the alcohol clouding his brain too much to be subtle in his admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, knowing it didn’t match the flow of the conversation.

You let out a chuckle. “What are you saying?” 

“It’s true.”

“Eric’s your friend,” you reasoned, but Haknyeon didn’t miss the way your eyes dropped to his lips.

“Aren’t you my friend too?” he tilted his head, looking at you through hooded eyes.

“Right,” you inched closer, until Haknyeon felt your breath fanning over his lips, “you have a point there.”

“I do,” he whispered, before he closed the gap and kissed you.

Haknyeon was aware that morally this wasn’t the soundest choice he’d ever made. You’d only just gotten dumped by your boyfriend, who also happened to be his friend. He shouldn’t have kissed you, nor should he pull you into his lap. But how could he resist, when you returned the kiss so sweetly? How could he push you away, when your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer? There was no way he would pass up this chance just to meet some sort of moral standard and, frankly, while this wasn't the best he’d still made way more questionable choices before. He’d deal with the repercussions later. Tomorrow, maybe.

Except, tomorrow didn’t exactly start the way he’d imagined. Because instead of finding your sleeping figure next to him, the other half of his bed was empty, the messy sheets the only trace you’d left behind before rushing out. It seemed, while he didn’t regret the choices made and actions taken, you must have felt a little different about it. Of course you did. After all, you were still in love with Eric. Still, it felt lonely to wake up alone.

Haknyeon somewhat expected to wake up by himself again. It wasn’t that he didn’t hope for you to stay, it was just that he’d already prepared himself for disappointment the moment you’d kissed him in the elevator. But when he opened his eyes, the morning sun on his face tickling him awake, he found you were still there, sound asleep and wrapped up in his arms. You looked peaceful with your face tucked into his chest, your breathing calm and steady. He gently brushed a strand of hair out of your forehead, watching fondly as your nose scrunched up a bit at the ticklish feeling, before you snuggled closer. How someone could not be in love with you was a miracle to him, but he should probably be grateful that it was possible. Because now that he knew what it felt like to have you, not just for a night but in the morning too, there was no way he was going to hand you back to Eric again. He’d win you over, so that the next time you’d tell him you loved him, you would actually mean it.

Masterlist

[fairyniceyeah]

⏳🧸 I want to feeling my life

Title from Better (ATEEZ)

Summary: Jongho is not doing well on ISAC day but he doesn’t want to burden his hyungs. Luckily Stray Kids' Seungmin notices and gets his Lee Know-hyung who helps the ATEEZ maknae. (Stray Kids - Crossover)

CW: emeto, kind of public emeto

Sickie: Jongho Caretakers: Seungmin + Lee Know (+ Hongjoong)

On a normal day, Jongho loved ISAC.

He enjoyed sports after all, he liked living on the high of adrenaline with exhaustion deep in his muscles. Though seeing his idol friends from other groups was definitely the highlight. Often enough their schedules wouldn’t match up for months and they would not see each other besides a short hi backstage at a stressful award show. So he had looked forward to it.

But today was not a normal day.

Jongho had woken up feeling off. At first he had blamed his exhaustion on lack of sleep due to stressful schedules but when he barely managed to choke down breakfast he had to admit to himself something was wrong. His stomach felt unwell; full and rolling. The slight ache had turned to annoying nausea over the day – which … not good. Still, he didn’t dare tell his managers or his hyungs. He didn’t want to cause problems. He wanted his hyungs to have the good time he apparently couldn’t have today. After all he might be the maknae but the moment he had joined the final KQ fellaz lineup he had promised himself he wouldn’t be a burden, he could take care of himself. He wanted to be responsible, in his family he was the hyung. So, he didn’t need to and didn’t know how to ask for help. Yet … his hyungs had broken through his defences a long time ago.

They made sure to help him balance himself out. Jongho was the maknae but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be strong. They all agreed, and he had to admit that getting taken care of by somebody else was nice sometimes.

But he couldn’t afford being sick and especially being taken care of today. He couldn’t make his hyungs miss the event they all had looked forward to. None of his hyungs were really into sports but meeting their friends was special. Also, exposure to Korean media was always good for a small company group.

Still, sitting alone on the racing track while everybody around him seemed to have an amazing time, he couldn’t help but envy his hyungs who were talking carefree with their friends. Jongho had seen Seonghwa and Hongjoong in deep talk with Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids and Eric from The Boyz. Yunho was catching up with Juyeon, Q and Sangyeon. Mingi was hanging out with ONEUS and Wooyoung was off somewhere with Changbin. Jongho had lost sight of San and Yeosang some time ago.

And then there he was, sitting alone and feeling more and more sick with every minute. Self-pity was normally not his way but right now it fit his situation.

An unexpected hand on his shoulder had him jumping in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Seungmin apologized, looking down at him. The older idol was a good friend of his since they had both found common ground in being terrified to work with Eunkwang from BtoB in the vocal unit on Kingdom: Legendary War.

“Ah, it’s fine”, he said quietly. Seungmin seemed to not mind his following silence and plopped down next to him so that their shoulders were touching. Jongho didn’t mind the company of the older man at all, he just hadn’t expected him to approach him when he had so many other options. Surely Seungmin wanted to catch up with him but Jongho didn’t feel up to small talk at all. He swallowed down a wave of nausea again.

After a few seconds, his hyung couldn’t seem to keep quiet. “Are you okay, Jongho-yah?”, he asked carefully, apparently noticing how out of character Jongho was acting. Jongho couldn’t blame him, he would have asked the same question if the roles were reversed. That didn’t mean he wanted to tell Seungmin that he felt like he was about to puke in front of thousands of people.

“Yeah, I’m fine, hyung”, he lied and pulled his knees to his chest. He had vowed to himself he would not disturb his members’ good times with his problems and that had to count for other idols too. Even though he desperately wanted to tell somebody.

Sitting surrounded by other idols, cameras and fans under the heat of the sun beating down at them made everything so much worse. He wished he had a fan but Wooyoung had snatched it from him some time ago. For a moment he felt close to crying, despairing over his situation. He couldn’t just leave without raising suspicion, he couldn’t tell his hyungs and ask for their help and he most certainly didn’t want to be sick in full view.

No. He was strong.

“It’s just normally you are more … lively?”, Seungmin added quietly. “I don’t mean to press but I didn’t want you to be alone.” Seungmin was so kind. Jongho hated him for it but flushed at the same time.

“I’m okay, hyung”, he answered shortly.

Out of a sudden, with no warning his stomach rolled badly, worse than it had all day. Instantly the nausea got worse and he needed to keep swallowing heavily. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. He was not about to throw up.

But the possibility that it was going to happen grew with each second.

Seungmin mustered him with something akin to worry in his eyes and Jongho’s resolves crumbled. Trusting his friend with his fear seemed to be better than trying to handle himself alone.

“I’m sorry, I lied, hyung”, he whispered, “I feel so bad. I’m so nauseous.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in shock and he frantically looked around.

“Are you going to be sick?”, he asked, trying to calm down his own panic. Surely Seungmin had not expected these words and, while responsible, he was part of the maknae-line of Stray Kids. He was not used to helping out in this kind of way.

“Not quite yet”, Jongho said miserably. “I don’t want to.”

“Let me get one of your hyungs”, Seungmin said nervously.

“No, please”, Jongho pleaded. He didn’t want to inconvenience Seungmin but he really didn’t want his hyungs to drop everything for him. Still, he couldn’t deny the thought of a hyung helping and taking over the situation was nice. The bathrooms were far away after all and probably crowded. There was no way he could get sick there alone, in peace.

So when Seungmin offered the next solution he reluctantly agreed.

His Stray Kids’ hyung left and Jongho did all he could to act like everything was okay. He loved ATINY but he knew they would take apart every small video or photo they would get their hands on. The word “embarrassment” would not be enough to describe a situation where they caught on that he was feeling closer to puking everywhere with every passing minute.

⏳

His vision darkened as somebody knelt down in front of him, blocking him from the unrelenting sun. He blinked and looked up at the rather unfamiliar face.

“Hello, Jongho-yah”, Lee Know said gently, “Min-ah said you’re not feeling so good?”

Jongho nodded, looking up with wide eyes at the older idol. He hadn’t interacted much with him before. They had been in different units on Kingdom and while he had heard from Wooyoung, San, Yunho and Yeosang how kind of a hyung he was and the fact that he and Seonghwa were best friends, Jongho himself was very unfamiliar with him. For a second he wished he hadn’t insisted on protecting his hyungs’ fun, terrified by being left alone with a sunbae he didn’t really know while sick.

But he had dealt these cards himself, so trying to be brave, he just nodded. He was too tired and sick to converse. Besides, he trusted his hyungs’ judgement of character. Lee Know seemed awfully nice and he was the one Seungmin chose. He decided to trust him, having no real other option.

“How about we get you out of here, hm?”, Lee Know asked, “no use in sitting here feeling unwell.”

“Yes, sunbaenim”, Jongho said, “thank you.” He was glad Lee Know didn’t ask why he didn’t want his members’ help. And getting to sit in a cool dressing room out of sight seemed heavenly.

“Just act normal, like we are just walking around”, Lee Know advised and helped him to his feet. Without a word he wrapped an arm around Jongho’s waist to steady him. Staytiny would love this interaction. Jongho didn’t love it at all. His legs awfully felt like jelly now that he was upright and the sickness was hitting him hard.

“Where are your managers? Do you know which entrance you took to get out into the arena?”

Jongho shook his head. He had not taken notice of much beside how awful he was feeling all day.

“No matter, I’ll take you to our dressing room, the managers will figure something out.”

Lee Know led him past Seungmin who just smiled at them, probably knowing that Jongho didn’t want a fuss, especially not in public.

“How long have you been feeling sick? Did you throw up before?”, his sunbaenim asked as they walked towards the inside of the stadium where the changing rooms and the bathrooms were located. Some idols looked at them but they weren’t stopped. Apparently they noticed that they were not just strolling around but heading somewhere with a destination. Hopefully, they didn’t guess the right one.

“Since I woke up I felt off. Haven’t thrown up. Yet”, Jongho admitted quietly.

“You know that coming here was very irresponsible, I don’t need to tell you that. But why didn’t you tell your hyungs?”, Lee Know scolded lightly.

In his sick mental state Jongho couldn’t help but shrink into himself. He didn’t want to deal with an angry sunbae while he was sick.

“I’m sorry, Lee Know-ssi”, Jongho said, pulling away slightly and stopping to look at the older man. “I didn’t want to inconvenience my hyungs or you. I’m very sorry.”

But he had never needed to worry.

“Oh, Jongho-yah”, Lee Know replied, his voice calm and soothing, “I should be the one who is sorry, I know I can come off as too harsh. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I was just curious as to why. Your team seems so close, so I was worried.”

“My hyungs are the best”, Jongho agreed, “but I guess, I wanted them to have fun. They’ve been talking for days about how much they were looking forward to seeing so many of their friends again. If I had said I was sick Seonghwa-hyung or Hongjoong-hyung would have stayed with me and I didn’t want them to miss this.”

“I get it, though I don’t agree”, Lee Know offered, “but speaking as a hyung to six dongsaengs: If any of them were sick I would want them to know to come to me if they are unwell and that missing one event in the grand scheme of things is not a tragedy.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim”, Jongho said quietly. He truly was thankful for the reassurance but still the longer he stood, the more his stomach was starting to feel really unsettled. A queasy burp surprised both him and Lee Know. A bitter taste remained in his mouth and Jongho stared at the older idol in shock.

“Call me Minho-hyung”, Lee Know said hurriedly, “let’s get you inside.”

⏳

Rushing with a sour stomach was not a recommendable activity, Jongho mused, though puking in front of fans, cameras and other idols was definitely worse. Quickly they reached one of the doors to get inside and as soon as the door closed behind them, Jongho sunk down into a crouch, hands pressed to his mouth. Immediately Minho knelt down next to him, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

“I’m sorry for the speed”, he mumbled. If Jongho had the ability to answer at the moment he would have protested, knowing the speed was the only thing that had saved (some parts of) his dignity. But he had to focus on taking deep breaths through his nose to keep his stomach where it belonged. He gagged dryly once, but the second time a small amount of water came rushing up his throat and he helplessly spat it on the ground beside him. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was so bad.

Luckily, that seemed to be all that was coming up for now.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, staring helplessly at the clear puddle.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you get to the bathroom?”, Minho asked quietly, rubbing his back. Taking stock of his body Jongho found the nausea still very present but not as overwhelming and threatening as it was a few minutes ago. He nodded and let himself be pulled to his feet for the second time that day.

Standing upright again was a whole different task. He swayed for a second until Minho adjusted the grip on his arm. The bathrooms were further inside the stadium and by the time they found the entrance sign Jongho was sure he would be sick the moment he was in front of a toilet. He just hoped the bathroom was empty.

Luck was not on his side. The bathroom were not only not empty, there was even a line. “Hyung”, Jongho involuntarily whimpered, panicked. Lee Know just squeezed his arm and turned to address the other idols who were watching them.

Jongho’s stomach lurched. There was no time for what Lee Know was planning, no time to wait. Left with the only option beside throwing up on the floor, Jongho lurched towards the sinks where The Boyz’ Jacob was washing his hands.

He had barely made it over a sink beside the one the older idol was using before his stomach send its contents up his throat. He retched and gagged helplessly, staring down in shock at last night’s dinner as he continued to bring up mouthfuls of sick. Jongho was vaguely aware of people exclaiming in shock but his aching stomach and the unpleasantness of the situation made him block out most sounds. He thought he heard Hongjoong’s name but he wasn’t sure. He would give a lot for his hyung’s comforting presence right now.

As the heaves died down and he managed to catch his breath, he felt a steady hand on his back again. This were the worst few moments of his life, throwing up in front of so many sunbaes.

“Hyung”, he gasped and immediately Minho answered: “I’m here, baby, deep breaths.” The older idol wet a tissue under the water, simultaneously washing away most of his shame, and wiped Jongho’s mouth. If he wasn’t so unwell and able to be more embarrassed he would be. But his mental state and the sickness didn’t care about normal Jongho. Right now he wanted comfort.

Minho seemed to sense this and gently wrapped him in his arms. “It’s okay”, he whispered. “I made the others leave, they didn’t mind. Keeho and Leedo are making sure nobody is coming in and Jacob and some others are looking for one of your hyungs.”

Jongho just nodded against his shoulder, pressing his eyes shut, as Minho kept rubbing his back.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, only pulling apart when the door was opened abruptly. They both turned around to find Hongjoong looking at them with worry and fondness in his eyes.

“Hey, baby”, his captain greeted with a tiny smile and walked over to them, brushing Jongho’s hair out of his face. “Jacob said you are sick? How are you feeling?”

“Sick, hyung, ashamed”, Jongho whispered, unable to meet his eyes. Surely Hongjoong was angry at him beneath his calm smile. After all, be had been pulled from having fun with the news of his maknae’s sickness. Even if he wasn’t he sure was not happy about the fact that Jongho had made such an uproar, inconveniencing so many of their sunbaenims.

“I’m sorry”, Hongjoong said sadly, opening his arms in a rarely initiated hug. “Hyung will help you.”

But Jongho couldn’t make himself take the step closer to his hyung. His hardworking, loving hyung who normally had so few opportunities to enjoy himself freely. His hyung who now had to take care of him on the one day he could have relaxed.

“I’m sorry, hyung. You were having fun”, Jongho said, subconsciously clutching Minho’s sleeve, needing to hold onto some stability. His stomach still ached with nausea and now with shame. He really just wanted to go home but he didn’t want Hongjoong to suffer under his illness too.

“Nothing of this, maknae. You’re sick, you have nothing to be sorry for”, Hongjoong replied, frowning.

Jongho chewed on his lip, not sure if he should give in. But a warm embrace from his hyung seemed like a dream come true, a lifeline during this awful day. Hesitatingly he took a step forward and immediately he was held in strong arms. He laid his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder and just breathed.

“I’ll go find one of your managers to take over”, Lee Know said and squeezed Jongho’s hand, “feel better soon, Jongho-yah.”

“Thank you for taking care of him, hyung”, Hongjoong said gratefully. “Let’s get you home, Jongho-yah.”

⏳

Bonus scene:

Hongjoong gently stroked the maknae’s back as he slept. He had managed to put the younger idol to bed only a few minutes ago, hours after they had left the stadium. Jongho’s nausea had gotten much worse during the ride and never before had Hongjoong been so happy that Seonghwa insisted on keeping plastic bags in the company cars. The younger man had thrown up two times on the way and even after they had escaped the moving vehicle, Jongho had stayed glued to the floor in front of the dorm’s toilet until he was empty. There had been nothing but providing water, cold clothes and cuddles that Hongjoong could do to help.

The others were due to arrive in half an hour and Hongjoong was glad for the - albeit short – time alone to reflect on the day.

Hongjoong had just been chatting with Bang Chan and Felix, Seonghwa having abandoned them to keep Yunho and Wooyoung in line, when they were approached by Jacob from ‘The Boyz’. They had all turned their attention to their sunbaenim and Hongjoong couldn’t hide the surprise when Jacob, who had seemed a bit out of breath, had addressed him: “Hongjoong-ssi, do you have a moment?”

Confused, Hongjoong had nodded. He had never really had interacted with the older idol before so the whole situation had seemed weird. They had stepped aside for some privacy and when Jacob had said “I’m really sorry to interrupt you, but I’ve been looking for you. It’s Jongho-ssi” Hongjoong hadn’t been able to stop the pang of fear in his chest.

First he had jumped to conclusions: Had the maknae managed to injure himself? What could have happened in the last ten minutes since he last saw him? Of course Hongjoong had noticed that Jongho had seemed a bit distant all morning but he had just assumed it was nervousness over attending ISAC. The maknae always shut himself off when he was nervous, so he hadn’t thought much of it. But apparently something else was wrong.

“Jongho threw up. He managed to get to the bathroom and Lee Know is with him”, Jacob had explained, grimacing a bit, “but he probably wants his leader right now.”

“Oh, yeah, probably”, Hongjoong had answered, a bit dumbfounded. He definitely had not expected this. Yet he had quickly gathered himself, seeing no use in analysing Jongho’s previous behaviour if he needed his leader now. “Thank you for finding me. Can you show me the way?”

“Come with me.”

Hongjoong sighed as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. He was very glad that other idols looked out for the younger ones, protecting them when they couldn’t do it themselves. In his mind he was already planning on what small but heartfelt gifts he could buy Jacob and Lee Know but that was a problem for a different day.

At last Jongho was safe and sound in his bed. There was no doubt that Jongho would very likely get sick again when he woke, but his youngest was at home. That was enough for Hongjoong.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZ

[lightofraye]

Jensen's Roles (past and upcoming)

This one is gonna be a long one! Bear with me folks. (Not his full list of work, by the way.)

1. Eric Brady. Sami Brady's long-lost twin! I remember getting into an argument with my older brother about Eric Brady. My brother insisted Sami never had a twin, and I kept saying "Well! He's her twin!" Turned out Days of Our Lives forgot Sami had a twin! (Days of Our Lives)

2. Alec McDowell (and Ben McDowell). A genetic creation of Manticore, Jensen played two roles--first of a psychotic creation, Ben. He did such a good role as Ben they brought him back as the twin, Alec, named as such because he was sarcastic and, according to Max, a "smart alec". (Dark Angel)

3. CJ Braxton. CJ's had an interesting storyline. He was a depressed teen who turned to alcohol to cope. Nearly destroying a number of his relationships (friends and love interests, both), CJ decided to abstain from drinking. He also joined a teen helpline called The Stand. There had always been speculation that he was the father of Jen's child, though it was never revealed. (Dawson's Creek)

4. Jason Teague. Jason was probably a weak storyline, to be honest. He had potential, but the writers really didn't make it work. He was in a relationship with Lana, but only using her to get closer to the other characters for some stones of power. His character was unceremoniously killed off at the end by a meteor shower. (Smallville)

5. Dean Winchester. The most famous role of all: the elder Winchester brother. Protector, stand-in parent, hunter, brother, friend. Dean would move the world to protect his brother, Sam. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him. Dean had made bargains to save his brother, sold his soul, endured lifetimes. As long as he had Sam, Dean would be okay. The show began with the brothers and ended with them. (Supernatural)

6. Soldier Boy. The "first" Supe. (In the world of The Boys, they don't say "Superhero", largely because, guess what? It's trademarked, so a lot of other comics and such have to dance around the term.) Anyway. Soldier Boy was the first. He did it in hopes of finally impressing his father, but his father claimed he "cheated". Honestly, Soldier Boy's father sounds like an abusive douche. Ben--Soldier Boy--was also an abusive douche, continuing the family 'tradition'. Was very cruel and abrasive to his team, Payback, so much so that Vought decided they had enough and plotted to get rid of him by selling him out to Russia. It worked. Russia held him captive, tortured him for decades, until The Boys freed him in exchange for killing Homelander--who is also his son. It's a messed up family, y'all. Jensen will be returning for Season 5! (The Boys)

7. Beau Arlen. Beau Arlen was a mystery, for the large part. The show teased at something huge that led to Beau getting divorced from Carla, that led to him "retiring" as a sheriff for a time, before he was convinced to come back as a sheriff, which led to the start of Season 3. There was a small teaser in the show that indicated a partner of his was killed and he shut down, emotionally, and Carla couldn't handle it anymore. He dearly loves his daughter, Emily, and was ready to move heaven and earth to save her. (Big Sky)

8. Russell Shaw. What's a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a secret? You'd get Russell Shaw, that's who. What we do know: he stood up a lot to his father, who was a paranoid survivalist, protecting his siblings, at least for a time. Then their father was killed and Russell ran, afraid he would be (rightly) blamed for it. For some 20 years, Russell was in the military (approximately 18 years) before retiring to be a secret Black Ops agent of sorts for a group known as Horizon. He kept in touch with their sister Dory, but Colter kept avoiding Russell, up until Russell tracked him down and asked for help. There's a lot of hints that there's a lot more going on that Colter is unaware of--like how it was their mother who urged Russell to run instead of facing his siblings about their father's death, how Dory kept a box of stuff about their father, and so forth. Jensen will return for more episodes. (Tracker)

UPCOMING

9. Mark Meachum. Very little is known about this show or character. What has been said so far: LAPD officer Mark Meachum being recruited to join a secret task force of undercover agents from all branches of law enforcement to investigate. Among this secret task force is Nathan Blythe, Special Agent in Charge who’s been with the Bureau for 22 years. Then there's Special Agent Amber Oliveras, who is a DEA agent. Several others from different task forces will be joining Meachum in uncovering the conspiracy and saving the city. (Countdown)

10. Soldier Boy (again). This time for the prequel, Vought Rising. Kripke described it as: It’s a twisted murder mystery about the origins of Vought in the 1950s, the early exploits of Soldier Boy, and the diabolical maneuvers of a supe known to fans as Stormfront, who was then going by the name Clara Vought. (Vought Rising)

--

Phew! These are the notables. Of course, he's done voicework as both Red Hood and Batman in a number of animated films. He's done guest roles in the Buddy movies. Devour. My Bloody Valentine. And others.

[shelbgrey]

Next to me(Emmett Cullen)

Chapter 11: the acadent

Table of contents

As we pulled up to school I could feel everyone's eyes on me and Emmett as we walked hand in hand towards the school. Most were surprised or shocked but as we passed my group of friends I couldn't help not missing the proud looks Angela and Tyler were giving us.

“What the shit?” Mike mumbled as Jessica scoffed and walked away. I ignored her but I waved at Tyler with my free hand. He chuckled and gave me a thumbs up as we walked into the school towards the cafeteria.

“School hasn’t already started and you two are already the talk of the school” Edward said as we sat down at their usual table. I just shook my head not liking the attention that much. The attention I was given after my parents died finally died down and now something else happened that gave them a reason to talk.

“Don't worry they'll get used to it and all the commotion will stop” Alice smiled as she held Jasper's hand. I nodded then turned to the guy I think I could now consider my best friend.

“But one thing to talk about is this..” I said to Edward. “You gonna talk to Bella?”

Edward filled his hands together on the table and shrugged. “I wouldn't,” Damon said, butting in. Rosalie nudged him despite agreeing with him. She didn’t want anyone insulting my family.

I shrugged. “You know you dont half to edward…I know you’ll make the right decision”

Edward nodded and stood up. “We should get to geomercy, by guys” Edward said and left to Mr. Booth’s math class with me in tow,

--------( ....... )--------

“So you and Cullen?” Mike asked as he caught up with me on the hallway. As I walked down the hallway to band I sighed. I knew he didn’t like it, and I really didn't care. Me and him weren't close and all my other human friends didn't have a problem with it.

“Yes..me and Emmett, is there a problem?” I asked as I looked up down the stretch of the hallway. The band room was all the way at the end of the school and by this time of the day there weren't that many people besides the band numbers and the occasional janitor. I looked away from my disapproving acquaintance.

“He just doesn't seem your type,” he replied. I scoffed and walked a bit faster when I noticed Edward waiting up against the brick wall closest to the band room. He looked at me with concern. “And what do you know about my ‘type’” I asked. Before he could answer I walked away from him and went towards Edward.

“You okay?” I shrugged and walked through the door he held open for me. When we walked in I wanted to laugh at the unusual chaos that was happening. All the chairs and the base drum were pushed up against the wall and in the middle the band was setting up stands in different heights and potions.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked. The drumb major looked up from the toy car he was messing with. “Mrs. Holly is gone so we're building a race track” I chuckled and looked at Edward. I knew this wasn't his thing. Being a regular teenager and doing stuff that might have consequences later just wasn't his thing. Him and Jasper were both like that. Same with Stefan. I think Emmett and Damon are the only ones who will just let loose and live their life.

I grabbed his hand and walked towards Eric. “Come on Eddie live a little” he chuckled and stood on the other side of me with his hands in his gray jacket. I think everyone was too scared to ask him to have fun. Maybe he just needed a friend that wasn't his vampire family or my dumb cousin.

When the circle made its way to me and Edward both got the controllers and started racing. He looked happy and the first time in the short moments I knew him he was smiling. To my surprise he won while mine gout stuck in between two stands. I laughed and passed it over to tyler. “I'm surprised Cullen”

“What? Emmett makes me play mario cart with him and Damon  if no one else will” I laughed and Edward chuckled along with me.

“thanks” Edward said.

“for what?” I asked.

“being my friend”

--------( ....... )--------

After school I decided to hang out with Bella. I was laying on the hood of her truck waiting for Emmett to get out of the school. “What do you know about the Cullens? You hang out with them”

“not much, I just recently started talking to them” I said watching the slushy snow hit my sunglasses. I hopped off the hood and saw Bella eyeing Edward. “You like him, don't you?”

“yeah-no! Maybe.. I don't know” she stuttered and started gripping the zipper of her coat. I chuckled. "well let me know when you get your priorities straight"

Bella rolled her eyes. “Emmett Cullen is eyeing you” I looked over and smiled at him. He was now sitting on the hood of Stefan's red Porsche with a smirk on his face. I shook my head as Stefan pushed him off this car.

I was about to walk over to him but I heard the sound of tires screeching. My eyes widened as I saw Tyler's van coming for me and Bella. Bella grabbed me trying to hide behind me. I froze in my place and body jolted with fear as old flashbacks hit my mind. I covered my face with my fear of cars hitting me like a freight train.

I squeezed my eyes shut preparing for impact. I didn’t feel the van, just the impact of Emmett’s chest as he shielded me. The sounds of the van crashing into Bella’s truck and Emmetts fist made me shake like a leaf in his arms. I let out a sod as I moved closer to his chest despite the growing pain in my wrist.

"What hurts? Are you okay?" Emmett asked. I was shaking in his arms as tears slid down my cheek. I was convinced I was dying but the cold hand I grew to love cupped my cheek and lifted my face up.

He looked me in the eyes. “It's okay, you're okay. I got you” he whispered. I shook my head as his arms pulled me tighter. He looked down and sighed with relief as he carefully picked me up. As he did, half of the student body swarmed the crash sight.

“Are you okay?” Angela asked us to race over to us. I nodded as Emmett helped keep me steady. “Im f-fine” I said, still slightly shaken up. It then clicked that someone else was probably hurt.

“I'm gonna take her to the hospital,” Emmett said. As he picked me up and looked over at the van. “Is Tyler okay?”

Before Emmett could leave and take me to his Jeep Tyler stuck his bloody head out. “I'm okay, I'm so sorry Y/n” he said, trembling. Emmett glared at him as he carried me to his jeep.

The whole family stared bewildered at what just happened. Edward looked shocked as he searched the car lot for Bella as Jasper stood uncomfortable as all the aggressive and panicky emotions hit him. Alice followed Emmett to his jeep with a panicked look.

“I'm sorry Emmett, I should have seen it coming, it was only supposed to be Bella!”

Emmett laid me in the back seat and closed the door as he reassured a sobbing alice. She had nothing to be sorry for and it hurt to think that she thought she was to blame because she didn’t see it coming.

“Emmett, we need to go home before anyone starts to suspect.” Stefan said.

“Yeah wait for the Ambulance” Damon added.

“Shut the hell up! Both of you '' Emmett said as he climbed into the jeep to take me to the hospital.

“It's okay..when we get there Carlise will take care of you” Emmett said kinda panicked now himself. I didn’t know who he was trying to reassure, himself or me.

--------( ....... )--------

As we got the ER Emmett wouldn’t leave my side. As I was led to a bed I saw Tyler was already there. He gave me a remorseful look, he looked down missing Emmett’s nasty stare. The Nurse got me up on one of the examination beds and took my blood pressure as Emmett sat on a stool next to me. He looked around with a watchful eye and would shoot a treating look to anyone who passed,

“Calm down will ya” I said, taking his hand after the nurse left to get the doctor. We both seemed to calm down just by the little contact we had from each other…it was nice.

The ER door then swung open causing me to jump. I looked towards the reasoning of the jump scare and it was only Uncle Charlie. “Thank god you're okay”

“Hey, uncle charlie” I smiled meekly. Emmett looked up and mumbled ‘hello sir’

As Charlie walked started to walk towards us but stopped midway to turn to tyler. “You and I are gonna have a talk” that only made Tyler feel worse. He looked down with glossy eyes. I sighed and removed the ice pack from my forehead.

“Uncle Charlie its fine, it wasn’t his fault”

Emmett shook his head. “I'm sorry but it sure as hell isn’t okay” Charlie nodded. “I agreed.. You can kiss your license goodbye” he said to Tyler. He then turned to Emmett.

“Were you in the accident too?” he asked Emmett. He shook his head. “No Chief, I just wanted to make sure she got here safe,” Charlie nodded and held out his hand towards Emmett. “Thank you”

“I'm so sorry y/n” Tyler said again. Emmett rolled his eyes and Charlie turned to him and sighed.

“It's okay,” I said softly. Uncle Charlie sighed and pulled the curtain between us. “Stop saying its okay, you could have been killed, you realize that?”

I shrugged. “But I didn’t soo…”

Emmett shook his head as another Doctor walked in. He had blonde hair and gold eyes. He was handsomer than any movie star i've ever seen. He had brightness to him and he looked like he could make anyone smile just by doing it himself. He was handsome but not as handsome as Emmett. I recognized him as Dr. Cullen from the other night.

“Heard the Chief's niece was in '' he smiled brightly. I blushed as he stood before me. Emmett rolled his eyes.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Emmett asked his ‘father’ before he even started. Dr. Cullen checked over my chart as he nodded towards his ‘son’. “Chart says a sprained wrist but there's a few more things I want to check” he said softly then turned my direction.

“y/n Swan, how are you feeling?” he asked. He whispered the last part of my name like he recognized it. Not from my uncle but something else.

“Like someone ran over me” I said. “And ran over me again. And again and again-”

“I think he gets it,” Charlie sighed. Emmett snickered as he looked at Dr. Cullen.

“It could have gotten ugly” Emmett said as Dr. Cullen shined a small flashlight to check my eyes for concussions. “Well it wasn't thanks to you” i smiled.

Charlie turned to him as Dr. Cullen put a black brace on my left wrist. I missed what he said to Emmett as Dr. Cullen started talking to me. “Is that too tight?” I shook my head no as closed the brace with the velcro that was attached.

“So keep that on for a few weeks, but other than a sprained wrist,you're perfectly fine” Dr. Cullen smiled then turned to Emmett. “Why don't you go to my office?” Emmett nodded, then turned to me. “I’ll call you tonight” he placed a quick kiss on my cheek which didn’t go unnoticed by my uncle. He sighed and gave Emmett a look. Dr. Cullen looked almost impressed but at the same time looked at Emmett like he was a crazy person.

As we left the ER I was immediately engulfed by a tight hug from Owen. “thank god you're okay” as he pulled away i noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He looked down and sighed. “I thought i was gonna lose you too”

I sighed and ruffled his hair. “You're not getting rid of him that easily” he smiled softly as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “Let's go home, i'm tired”

As we rounded the corner we could hear faint whispers. “I'm glad you saved her but you know how many people saw that stunt?” it was Rosalie’s voice. I stopped but Owen continued to listen. I tried to pull him away. “Owen it's none of our business”

“No, you pulled a Sonic the Hedgehog across the parking lot..and were happy about it?” Damon asked. “I'm not apologizing to anyone for saving her, especially not to you” Emmett growled.

“No, they're talking about you, that's Emmett’s sister right?” he said, pushing me back.

“This isn’t just about you two, its about all of us” Damon growled.

I tried to pull Owen back again but this time he lost balance and ran into the wall with a thud. The sound made the family look up and I looked down embarrassed.

“Sorry” I mumbled.

Dr. Cullen pulled Rosalie and Damon to the side and Emmett walked towards me. Owen sighed and walked to the front desk where Uncle Charlie was signing papers. Emmett smiled softly and learned against the wall crossing his arms. “How are you feeling? You seemed a little freaked out back there…almost like a panic attack” he asked concerned. I was quick to change the subject. I wasn’t ready to tell him.

“I suppose i should thank you” Emmett raised an eyebrow expecting more but at the same time concerned about me quickly dodging the question. But he didn’t push and he just let it go which I was thankful for.

I rolled my eyes with a fake sigh. “Thank you for saving my life…again” he smirked and he pushed himself off the wall and walked up to me. “You sure like danger, don't you?” he asked, placing his cold hand on my cheek. I smiled and leaned into it.

“It just happens” i mumbled.

“Well nothing will hurt you when I'm around… I promise” he said softly. And I believed him.

<Next chapter>

[killersfool]

Special Guest | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: strangers to lovers

SUMMARY: hina and her band are invited as special guests to inhaler’s show in germany

WORDS: 7.3k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use

I clutch onto the handle of my suitcase, feeling it bump against my fingers as the wheels roll along. It's a boiling day. It's so stuffy within the airport and the pace of our steps really isn't helping. My other hand is clutching a cup of iced coffee from Starbucks. It's freezing cold and as I gulp it down, I start to feel a little bit cooler. Sweat lines my back and neck. I really need to get out of here.

Michael, the band's bassist, has decided to lob all of his things into a luggage trolley.  I pile my suitcase and rucksack onto it. My arm needs to rest for a while. Especially since I'm going to be playing piano tonight. I need to make sure that my fingers are actually intact. Or else everything would probably go wrong.

"Where's the exit?" Sadie calls out. She's got her drumsticks out already. Eager. She's walking around in circles, glancing around corners, shifting through people. She stands out amongst the crowd of tourists. Her blue, braided hair shines under the glimmering lights above her. She's wearing a silk dress and fishnets, completely oblivious to the world around us. She doesn't seem to care. She's instead focused on trying to find the way out. If only airports were simpler. Us idiots can never understand what the bloody hell is going on. The fact we're in Germany in making it a lot worse. My German skills are almost nil.

"Hallo! Wo ist der Ausgang?" Michael is the only mildly intelligent one out of the band. He's got google translate on his phone and is talking to a random man.

"Es ist hinter dir. Hast du kein Augen?" The man seems to be rather pissed off.

"Danke!" Michael points to the sliding doors only metres ahead. Sadie had somehow looked in every direction except the right one. "Wasn't that hard was it?" Michael says.

"What would I do without you?" There's sarcasm dripping through each of Sadie's words. She shakes her head at the sight of the sliding doors.

We walk out of the airport. Michael's bass case gets trapped in the door. He groans frustratedly and uses all the strength he has to pull it out. We laugh at him. German families side-eye us.

"I want to see Bobby Skeetz already, " I say as we leave the airport. There's dozens of cars and taxis dropping off groups of people. "I'm still pissed at him."

"About what?" Eric, the lead guitarist, is clueless as always.

"About blocking me on Instagram, that's what. Just because I commented that his hair needed a wash or summat. I'm going to have a right word with that—"

"Hina —" Michael interupts me. I ignore his attempts.

"—complete total bellend-sucking rat." I grin to myself, downing my drink. The rest of the band are staring at me as if I've killed someone. Sadie's eyes are so wide I wonder if her eyeballs are going to fall out. Eric has a hand over his mouth. Michael is completely frozen in place which is rather unusual.

"Nice to meet you too."

I stop in my tracks. An Irish accent rises behind me. It's close. I can almost feel the words press against my sunburnt neck. I'm trying to mouth questions to my band mates, trying to ask them who it is that's standing behind me. If it's Bobby, I'm fucked. If it's Eli, we could probably laugh it off. If it's Ryan, he'll throw his drumsticks at me. If it's Josh, I'll jump off a cliff. All great options.

I pluck up some courage. Cautiously, my feet swivel around. Then my legs, then my torso, then my head. I take a thankful breath at the sight of dark, curly hair. This feeling deteriorates when right beside him, blue, piercing eyes are staring me down. Arms are crossed across his chest. Lips are pursed tightly shut. Messy hair has been blown in all directions due to the light, fluttering wind. Sunglasses are resting atop his head. I try to look anywhere else but him. He's taller than I'd expected, he looks down at me and I'm finding it very hard to escape those eyes. I stare at the sliding doors we'd just passed through. Eli is laughing to himself. Just as I had suspected.

Josh and Ryan are beside the two other boys. They're laughing as well. At least they're not taking it too seriously. I didn't mean it. I think.

I'm caught in the most awkward silence of my life. My lips have parted out of pure confusion. No one is saying anything. I don't know whether I feel stupid, embarrassed or proud. I just stay there, rooted to the ground like an oak tree, standing as tall as I possibly can.

"I was not expecting that," Eli tries to ease the tension rising in the air. I silently thank him through the motion of my eyes. Who knows how long we'd just be stand there if he hadn't have said anything?

"Well, shit. Hi," I say. For some reason I'm standing in front of the others. They've left me to fend for myself. I probably shouldn't have said that. I can never really control my mouth. I guess this is karma. "Nice to meet you too..."

Robert isn't speaking. I take a look at his clothes. He's got shorts on and a plain white tee with the words 'The Strokes' upon it. There's a hat atop his head which barely fits him and sort of hangs off his head. His long eyelashes flutter upwards and downwards as he traces his gaze towards me. He's still giving me a certain look. It's angered but it also seems as if he's trying to contain a smile.

"Sorry about that." I look at Robert.

"I'm very hurt." He feigns a look of sadness. He lowers his gaze to the ground, downturns his lips and shakes his head from side-to-side. "I can't believe you could ever say that."

"Oh shit-" Michael murmurs behind me. I kind of want to hit the three of them. They're not helping at all. God... is he joking or not? Elijah and the other lads seem to be taking it seriously. They're patting his back awkwardly.

"Where's the nearest exit?" Sadie's already planning an escape route. She's taken a few steps away from the group to look around at the airports different paths.

"Geez, Robert, I wasn't being serious-"

"Only joking, you tossers." He cuts me off with the biggest laugh I've ever heard. He finally breaks through the morose facade, revealing a toothy grin. His earrings glint as he tilts his head. The other members are having none of it. They all punch him playfully in the stomach. He groans. "Welcome to Berlin," Robert continues, raising his hands up in the air. My friends are still unsure about this whole situation. I am too. We start to stride down past the airport to a long stretch of streets.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes," Elijah says to the blue-eyed boy with an irritable sigh.

Robert grins. "Oh, I know you do." He then approaches me. "Did I actually block you?"

"Yeah, you did. I was heartbroken."

"Don't remember doing that." He snorts. The tension between us is starting to diminish. "Must've been drunk. Or played one too many rounds of bird bingo. Gets me angry, to be fair. Probably went on a blocking spree. Went through all my followers and eeny meeny miny moed them."

"Bird bingo?" I try not to make fun of him. It's proving to be a difficult task.

"Don't even try to disrespect it- I will actually burst into tears if you dare say a word against it. We'll show you at some point. It's life changing." He's stepping down a stone path, trying not to step on the cracks. It's the most Robert thing I've ever seen. "How's the new album going?"

I didn't expect him to ask that. By the cheeky smile upon his face, I was sure he was going to make some weird comment. "A lot worse than the first one."

"I'm sure it's class," he assures.

"It really isn't."

"I bet it is."

"It's not."

"Alright. It's shite then."

"Better."

Eli has somehow become our tour guide. We're following him now down the streets. "We've booked you a hotel down in Berlin. It's grand."

"Brill, thanks," Sadie says. She's been flirting with Josh for the past half hour. She'd been eyeing him up and down at the airport and is now making him laugh like crazy. They'd be a great couple. I watch them walk together. I just know that they'll be a thing by the end of this.

"Where are we actually going?" Michael, as usual, is the one asking the sensible questions. We've been following Eli like blind puppies. We could literally be walking into a trap. They could kidnap us right now and we would never have expected it.

"The tour bus," Eli explains. "It's green. If you see it, shout."

Michael and Eric are talking to Ryan. They're talking about all things music theory, tour, favourite songs. Just your typical musician conversations. Eli is at the front, navigating. He's spotted the green tour bus in the distance and is making sure we're all going the right way. It's helpful because none of us really have a sense of direction. Robert is walking with me for some reason. He's been a few steps in front of me for the whole time. It's probably because he's got longer legs. I think he's cute. Sure. I might have stumbled across some Twitter edits of him and daydreamed about him a few times. In person, he's just as pretty— prettier in fact. I feel annoyed at myself for making a fool of myself.

I watch the muscles in his back as he strolls before me. His shirt has stuck down due to the nightmarish temperature. I thank the sun for it's service. I don't think it gets any better than this.

We continue through the streets of Berlin: winding paths, brick graffiti-stained walls, little German cafes. I've been to Berlin only once before. It feels different this time. My brain has somehow warped and I can now appreciate the simplicity of each street. Maybe it's because I focus more on the world around me as a songwriter. Ice creams are melting, music is thrumming from little speakers where buskers are singing in German. I close my eyes, feel the heat dance across my skin.

"I'm sorry about earlier." I decide to break this weird oath of silence we've somehow agreed to.

"What, the bellend-sucking rat thing?" Robert says with distaste. He now turns to look at me. He raises a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Silver rings adorn his slender fingers. He seems to be taking a long, hard thought about what to say next.  "I forgive you. I mean, fair enough."

"What?!" I'm flabbergasted.

"I deserved it. Had it coming. I guess I've learnt my lesson to not block Hina Irvine." The way my name falls from his lips is so effortless, so smooth. Honey spilling onto a morning toast or yoghurt upon granola. It almost feels practiced. As if he's said it countless times before. I let the two words echo in my mind, dance through my skull.

"Good," I say, an afterthought. I'm glad it's settled. "Are you going to unblock me then?"

"Later. Phone's dead."

"That's what they all say."

"No, honestly. Eli drained the battery because he was calling his mam. They would not stop talking." He rolls his eyes.

"Why didn't he use his own phone?"

"He 'left' it in the bus." He moves his index and middle finger to make parenthesis. "Five minutes later, lo and behold, out appears the phone he'd supposedly 'left'. I don't know why I trust him. He's just got such a trustable face. God. I hate him."

"If any of my friends did that to me, there'd be consequences."

"I'm sure." He nods.

We follow Eli into the doors of the tour bus. It's pretty much a physical form of the band. Posters are scattered across the walls, stuck in by little silver pins. Their instruments are leaning against the two little green sofas sat in the corner. There's music playing on a bluetooth speaker. It's a song by 'The Strokes' which is perfectly matching Robert's shirt. There are a few cowboy hats sat on top of a coffee table. They've probably started accumulating them after each show.

"Ignore the hats." Josh is the first to address the mess. He picks up the hats and takes them away. He passes a green curtain to what I assume are the beds.

There's still one hat to spare which has the words 'Cheer up Baby' made with black glitter. It's bright pink with little frills across the sides. I plonk it onto my head without a second thought. I'm sure glitter has just splattered everywhere.

"Make yourself at home." Eli points over to the sofa. There are dark green pillows planted all over the place and a black blanket is draped across it. I glance at the polaroid pictures of each of the band mates that are pinned to the walls. There is one where Robert is half asleep on the ground. His hair is messy, his arms are across his chest as if he is a vampire. Each of the photos tell a story and they are all set out in chronological order. The oldest is from 2017. As I take my gaze to the first ones, I notice how much younger they all look.

The keyboardist, Louis, appears out of nowhere. He's been in the other room and is holding a cup of coffee. He greets all of us, compliments our music then begins talking to Eli.

I sit down. Ryan passes each of us a cup of orange juice. I accept it gratefully. I'm parched after being in the heat for so long. The tiny fan beside the coffee table is a welcome relief. I sigh as the cool air reaches my skin. I watch the ice cubes swim inside my cup, nudging them along with my straw.

Robert has sat down beside me. He's adding songs to the Spotify queue on Ryan's phone. He's been swiping through a playlist. I see one of our songs on it. His thumb hovers over the 'add to queue' button. I push it down onto the screen. He startles at my touch. I only realise how close I am when he turns around.

"Good song, right?" I joke. His hair has just swiped across my cheek. I try to ignore it just happened.

"Yeah..." He continues staring at the screen. It's almost as if he's scared to look at me.

"Who wants to drive?" Ryan asks.

Michael jumps up. "I will. I'll need some directions though."

"I'll co-pilot," Elijah offers. "I think I know where we're going."

The pair walk to the front of the bus. It starts moving. I drift from side-to-side as we turn corners. My head hits Robert's shouder more times I can even count on my fingers. He's still evading my gaze. He's pulled out his bass guitar and is playing through some of the songs. I watch his thin fingers dancing across the fretboard. He's got his eyes closed as he plays. I'm trying not to stare down at his hands or the muscles in his forearms. It's proving to be a very difficult task. His movements are so skillful. He makes it seem so easy.

Sadie somehow has a sixth sense which helps her detects where the nearest bottle alcohol is. Every party we've been to, every place we've performed at. She arises from the most random of places with a glass of wine or vodka. I remember one of our first gigs was in Edinburgh. There was a room backstage where we'd been left to get prepared. Michael had mentioned wanting some drinks. Sadie literally picked up a piece of the wooden floorboard to find a secret stash of whiskey. I never doubt her powers now.

She's pulled out a bottle of vodka which had been left behind the sofa. Fleetwood Mac is playing. She turns the music up and starts waving her hands in the air, already drinking shots. Eric never really know how to control her. Ryan and Josh entertained. They're bopping their heads to the music. I contemplate moving away from Robert. They're all having so much fun. Robert has gone quiet. He's still picking notes on the bass guitar.

"Hina? You want a shot?" Sadie shouts for me over the loud music. She pours some vodka into each of the boys' cups.

"Yeah, sure." I'm about to hold out my glass. Instead, I grab the bottle and take a swig. I instantly regret it. My features contort into a look of disgust. I can barely even feel my tongue. I hold it in place at the roof of my mouth to try to find any sensation. Nothing works.

Robert, now awoken from his trance, peels his head from the sofa. His eyes open until they're half-lidded. A little blue is visible under those long eyelashes. His head is tilted to the side as if he's questioning something. The bass guitar is still resting on his thighs.

"D'you want some?" I manage to say after staring at him for far too long.

His eyes fall from my face to my hands. He takes the bottle from me. His fingers brush softly over mine, all calloused yet delicate. He, similarly to me, takes a drink straight from the bottle. The others make some drunken noises of excitement. I don't even know if we'll be able to perform in this state. Sadie is standing on top of the coffee table, holding Josh's hands. Eric and Ryan are jokingly slow dancing together with cheesy smiles. Elijah has appeared and is on the phone to his mum yet again in the corner.

"We'll be at the venue in five minutes everybody!" Michael shouts down the bus.

Everyone begins to cheer. I lean against the sofa, now suddenly realising I'm sort of alone with Robert.His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed again. He's humming along to the song that is playing. It's Love Story by Taylor Swift. Eric surely suggested it. He's obsessed with Taylor. Robert is sitting with both of his legs parted. Manspreading. I don't think he understands the effect he has on me. Especially on my intoxicated mind. I just want to crawl onto him and-

"Hina," he whispers, eyes still closed. I like the sound of my name from his mouth. It sounds like he's singing it. "When we perform tonight. Can I sing a song with you?" He looks at me. His hands are wrung together. One goes to play with his hair and his voice is hushed, nervous.

"Really? One of my songs?" I remark. I can't help but smile.

"No.. nevermind." He turns to face away from me. "Yes. Really." He says those words with more force. He leans forwards in a way of accentuating his point. "It'd be an honour."

"What do I get in return?" I challenge. He's getting closer by the second.He smells like blackberries and melted chocolate. It's a cozy scent. Inviting. I'm trying to figure out what's going on in his head. He's lost in his thought. Gears are cranking, mechanics are whirring. Until, he nods to himself as if an idea has appeared. A lightbulb has turned on. I hope he'll spit it out. Hopefully soon because the bus is going to stop any minute now.

"After the things you've said about me... I'm not sure if you deserve the incredible the thing I'm about to offer you. Like, not to burst my own bubble or anything but this is just- out of this world," he begins to ramble. I wonder if it's nervous dribble or if he's buying time because he doesn't want to say it. He leans away from me. His cheeks are a little flushed and his lips are parted the slightest bit.

"What is it, Rob?"

He takes another sip of the vodka before murmuring something incoherent.

"What was that?" I put a hand to my ear.

"A kiss!" He says it far too loud. Ryan gives us both a look, his eyebrows thread together in confusion.

I feel like we're teenagers again. "That's a shit offer." I glance down at his lips, they're pink and a little chapped. I then see how red his cheeks are now. His hair has fallen over his eyes. I ask myself whether he'd be a good kisser. Would he cup my face with his hand or grip my waist? Would he be delicate and soft or rough and practiced? My mind begins to wander to all kinds of places. I've got into a spiral of thoughts. Would he kiss me here on the sofa or press me against the wall of the bus? In the venue? At the hotel? In a bed..? I swallow. Breathe out.

"Well?" He runs his tongue over his lips, teeth appearing. He's trying to tease me, trying to make me nervous.

I bite down on my bottom lip. I try to find an answer in those angelic eyes. There's nothing. Singing with him would be great. He's got an amazing voice. Kissing him would be... well-

"Fine," I murmur.

"Now or later?" He points between us with a devilish smile.

I scoff. "Later. Don't get too excited. Which song do you want to sing?"

"Nightmare," he says. It's the title track of the album and my personal favourite. His harmonies will surely add more to the song, flesh it out all the more.

He's sat there, studying me as if he's a painter. Maybe he's asking myself the same questions I had been asking myself a few minutes ago. That's a strange thought.

"We're here!" Eli announces. Thank God. Saved by the bell. I take this as an excuse to run away from Robert. I meet with Sadie. She wraps her arm around me to steady herself as we step off the bus.

"Think you can still play drums?" I pass her the drumsticks she'd left on the sofa.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, of course. I'm not even that drunk." Her words are incredibly slurred.

"Doubt that."

"What's going on with you and Bobby?" She winks.

"Nothing."

"Hmm. Didn't look like nothing. I think he likes you. Josh said he wouldn't shut up about how great your songs are."

I blush. "Oh? That's..."

"Yeah."

It's still warm outside but there's a slight chill that strikes me. It's windy. It's nice. After being cooped up in the bus for so long, fresh air is a gift from the heavens. My hair blows away from my face and I breathe in.

We've reached the venue and parked at the back entrance. There's thankfully no fans around. They'd probably be scared of us, seeing how drunk we are. We walk over pebbled ground. Stars are glittering up above us. There are street lamps everywhere, illuminating everyone's faces.

I'm pretty sober compared to the others. I make fun of them as they stumble around like total idiots. It's my favourite pastime when touring with the likes of Sadie Green. They're all unloading their instruments from the bus, carrying them on their backs. As the keyboardist and singer, I don't have to take anything. They already have a piano in the venue and microphones. Louis has his own keyboard and synth stuff. I feel a little out of place with everyone else.

A crash sounds. The backstage door opens. We all turn at the exact same time. There's an old man with hair like a storm cloud who waves at us. "Willkommen! Welcome! I'm Albert. Come in, my friends!" His strong German accent catches me off guard. "You're just in time. The crowd is getting loud."

"Hi!" Eli shakes Albert's hand.

We follow Eli into the building. It's has a pale, beige exterior with moss growing against some of the upstairs windows. Robert walks in before me and holds open the door. He's staring right at my lips. Not even being subtle. I kick his shin once I've got inside. He makes a mouse-like squeak.

"What was that for?" He trying to act serious but he's most definitely holding in a laugh. He softly kicks the back of my leg once I've passed.

I ignore him and continue down some stairs into a dressing room. Eric, Michael and Sadie are already getting their stuff ready.

"You four are on in ten minutes, we've already set up everything for you on stage." Albert steps into the doorway. He looks like the type of guy to wear a monocle. His pocketwatch is in his hand. He gives each of a bag of German sweets. "I must say, I am a fan."

"Thank you," Eric says as he rips open his bag and begins munching.

I put my bag into my blazer pocket. I drop the cowboy hat down onto the floor, forgetting I even had it on. I sit down in front of the mirror and begin to do my makeup. Eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, eyeshadow. The speed of my movements is impalpable. I never knew my hands could move this quickly. By the time I'm finished doing my dark blue eyeshadow, the Inhaler boys come to the door.

"Good luck. You're gonna smash it," Josh says. Sadie jumps towards him and pecks his cheek. There's a lipstick stain left there once she pulls away. He cups his hand over his face with a nervous smile.

The other boys all wish us luck as we begin to file out of the room. Eli gives us all fist bumps, Louis gives us hi-fives. Ryan, Josh and Robert just wave us off. I'm the last to leave the room. I pick up my water bottle then pass all the instrument cases to get to the door. I give Eli a fist bump and I'm about to give Louis a hi-five when Robert grabs my arm. My gaze falls down to the hand on my bare skin. His fingertips are warm and soft. He just whispers into my ear, "Be prepared for the unexpected."

"What?" My nose scrunches out of confusion. I didn't think he'd be sending some random quotes in my direction.

"Hina! Hurry up!" Eric shouts from upstairs.

I just shake my head and keep walking. Now, I'm worried. Is he going to do something when he comes onto stage? Something stupid? Am I going to regret agreeing to this dumb deal? I just continue forward. I need to focus on what I'm about to be playing, how I'm going to cope multitude of people just down the hallway.

We reach the wings of the stage. Sadie is the first to go on. The crowd erupt into a frenzy at the sight of her. I glance around the corner to see dozens of smiling faces. The majority of people are hidden under the cloak of darkness. But, the ones at the front are coloured blue by the lighting above us. The crowd looks endless from here. There's a knot forming in my stomach as Eric and Michael follow Sadie onto the stage. They plug in their instruments to the amps laid out. I finally step onto the stage. The crowd screams all the more. I wave as I place my water bottle beside the mic stand. There are little golden stars painted all over the floor of the stage. I step onto one, deciding that it's going to make me lucky. This is all going to be great. Definitely.

I sit down at the piano. I press my foot onto the peddle. Sadie begins playing. The beats of the drum crashing through the air sound perfect. There's not even a single sign that she's drunk at all. This is probably the best I've ever heard her play. We play through two songs from the album. The crowd recognise them and they sing along at the top of their lungs. They're punching their arms into the air, filming us, laughing as Eric cracks his signature jokes.

By the end of the second song, I'm sweaty and pretty out of breath. I don't know how Inhaler cope with the amount of songs they do. I already feel like I'm on the verge of passing out.

I take a sip of my water. I turn to the side to see all of the Inhaler boys in the wings. They're holding their thumbs up. They had been singing along to both of the songs.

"I'm going to have a special guest for this song-"

At that, Robert decides it is his cue to run onto the stage. He doesn't even let me finish a sentence. The crowd begins chanting: 'Bobby Skeetz. Bobby Skeetz.' I laugh awkwardly into the mic. Robert sits beside me at the piano, wrapping a lazy arm around my waist. My head bumps into his side. The other band members are all mouthing words to eachother.

"Hello," Robert whispers into the mic. The crowd go silent. He's changed into some flared jeans and a white button down shirt. There's a silver chain around his neck, sitting just above his collarbones. It's weird to see him on stage without his bass guitar. It doesn't really feel right. More people have pulled up their phones to film this strange interaction. "This will be the duet of a lifetime." His hand is still at my waist, fingers lazily moving around my lower back. I drop my head upon his bare shoulder, closing my eyes at the feeling of his cooler skin.

"Are we sharing a mic then?" I whisper into his ear as Michael starts playing the bass riff. Some people at the front of the crowd instantly figure out the song. They're jumping around like lunatics.

"Is that really a bad thing?" He smirks.

"Fuck off."

"You're stuck with me now, darling." His fingers traipse up the length of my spine.

"I could stage dive right now."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

The introduction finishes. I start to play chords on the piano. Robert sings the first line. He sounds like a fucking angel. He waves his hands along with the audience. They're loving this. No one is singing. They're all listening to his voice. I'm in some kind of trance. I can barely even remember the words. Words that I literally wrote myself. He's driving me crazy.

I near the microphone. My head brushes against his. He doesn't want to move. He's still holding onto me. I sing along with him. He starts to harmonise and I almost melt on the spot. He's looking at me with those eyes. He's smiling, freckled cheeks tinged pink. His nose bumps against mine once we get to the chorus. I swear I hear someone below us scream. There's a little beard growing that I hadn't noticed before. Little spots of acne are on his jawline. I'm using all the strength I have in myself to not kiss him right now.

As we sing the next verse, for the whole time, he just rests his head on top of mine. Strands of his hair are drifting over my forehead. He harmonises every other line. Each word is spoken softly as if he's speaking to me. It's like the crowd isn't there, or the band, or anyone. It's just me and him and the piano.

His mouth reaches my ear again. I shiver as his lips brush across the lobe. "I want to kiss you so much," he says, breathless.

"Don't." I feel a warmth in my lower stomach. I point to the crowd. They look like they're waiting for something.

"I know." He removes his hand from my back, moves away. He's using all the strength he has to not kiss me right now. He grins at the crowd. The song draws to a close. Michael plays the bass riff for a final time.

Shouts reverberate throughout the room. Robert puts his hands up and down as if he's worshipping me. I smile. He laughs. The crowd are loving it. Eric and Michael are still extremely confused but they also seem pleased. We walk towards the wings after bowing. I have a bouquet of flowers in my hands. It had been thrown in my direction by a fan.

"After our set..." Robert is at my ear again. He's panting like a dog after a walk. "Meet me in my dressing room. For, you know, bird bingo of course."

"Yeah, yeah. Course." I leave him to get prepared for their performance.

"That was bloody awesome!" Ryan gives Robert a pat on the back before they walk on the stage. "We fucked up not making you the lead singer."

Eli snatches a drumstick from Ryan's hand. He holds it centimetres from his friends face. "Don't make me do this!"

"Chill out, Eli. I'm just better." Robert crosses his arms over his chest.

Eli just scoffs. "You tell yourself that, mate." He pauses. "But, honestly, you two sing so well together."

They all go onto the stage and start playing. I'll admit this, I have seen them on stage before. I went to one of their concerts about a month ago in Dublin. We had been touring up and down the UK and somehow ended up in Ireland.  I kept it a secret from my band mates that I was going to watch Inhaler. I needed some time to myself. It gets tiring being with the same people for such a long period of time. That was one of the best nights of my life. The music, the atmosphere, the band. It was brilliant. I don't think any of them remember me being there, thank God. Sadie still thinks I disappeared that night because I'd met a fit Irish actor in a pub.

I sit down on the ground, taking a massive gulp of water. My friends are all breathing heavily. I always enjoy the feeling after the show. I always have the best sleep. I'm so tired. I can barely process any thoughts. A comfortable silence dances between us. We're all drinking and laughing.

"Should we just hire Robert at this point? The chemistry you two had was- can't even describe it." Michael is leaning against the wall, his long legs are sprawled across the dusty floorboards.

"I thought you two were going to start making out or something," Eric admits. "Sexual tension was off the charts."

"Stop." I laugh to myself.

Sadie hasn't spoken. She's too focused on Josh. Her eyes are gliding across his whole frame. She gasps everytime he plays a solo.

"You too as well. Get a room. I swear to God." Eric has had enough of us. He really can't take us seriously. "I mean, fair enough. They're pretty hot."

"Exactly!" Sadie seems to be thankful of where she's seated. A front row view of Josh. Robert has been looking at me for this whole time. He's making that unbothered face. Each time that he sings into the mic, I can't stop myself from looking at his lips. I can't stop thinking about how they'll feel against mine.

-

Robert's dressing room is a mess. His bass case has just been left on the floor. There are picks everywhere. His jacket is on the chair, his cologne is also on the floor. I glance into his open bag. There are a few records inside. He must've bought them recently because they've still got plastic seals on them. I pull them out carefully. One is 'Bleach'. I love Nirvana. I slide my fingertips over the plastic. I contemplate strealing it. I replace the record then pull out the other. It's our record. I'm in the centre of the picture with the others staring at the camera beside me. I hold it to my chest, trying not to smile too widely. I then place it back as if I'd never even seen it.

I lie down on the cold, hard ground. It's so quiet down here. They must've finished playing. My eyes fall shut. I want to fall asleep. My mind then goes to Robert. I'm in a daydream. We're both walking through a field. He's holding my hand, pointing out the birds up above us. I'm trying to focus on the words leaving his mouth but in the harsh light of the sun, he looks perfect. I'm just about to lean it to-

"Hey, Hina." The door opens. My eyes first land on long legs that seem to go on forever, then a belt, then a sweaty shirt and a sweaty face. The thin material sticks to his chest. He closes the door behind him. "What you doing down there?"

"I don't know. I'm tired."

He wipes a hand over his face. "Same."

He sits down beside me then falls back, resting his head on the floor next to me. I roll my head over to see his side profile. Perfect nose, perfect lips, perfect jaw. His hair has gone wet from all of the sweat and he's tried to move it out of his face. I'm sure he can feel me staring because he starts to smile.

"It's nice down here." He's staring at the ceiling. Our hands are so close together. I hold onto his thumb. His fingers twitch at the sudden touch.

"How was the show?" I ask him. He's still not looking at me.

His fingers intertwine with mine. "Good. I couldn't stop thinking about something though."

Now, he looks at me. His eyes run from my chin to my lips to then they meet my gaze. I don't think a guy has ever made me this nervous. I don't know why we're still on the floor. I kind of like it though.

"We don't have to... if you don't want to." I press a hand to his cheek, moving any stray hairs from his face. His skin is so warm. I want to keep my hand there forever.

"I want to," I say. I start to close the gap between us. He parts his lips when I'm just about to meet them.

"Wait." He turns away from me. I press my forehead to his ear, pepper a few kisses along his jaw. He's going red. I love it. "You were at that show, weren't you? The one in Dublin."

"No I wasn't." I grin as I nibble on his earlobe. "Must've been someone else."

He sighs as I start to kiss along his throat. I keep it delicate. I run my hand though his hair, feel each strand fall between my fingers. "Yes, you were. Near the front. You had that dark green cowboy hat. You knew all the lyrics to every song. I remember seeing you and thinking: 'I know who she is'. For the whole show, I was trying to figure out who on Earth you were. Well, now I know."

"Don't tell the others. It's a secret, okay?" I now hold my face just above his.

He places his hands carefully at the back of head. He rubs up and down the nape of my neck. "Okay."

He brushes his lips across mine, teasing me. I close my eyes as our mouths crash together. There's passion in the way he kisses. I imagined him to kiss slowly, softly but instead he's kissing me as if the world is crumbling around us. He's rough yet the movement of his hands across my skin are gentle. He tastes of coffee. His tongue drifts into my mouth, searching, tasting.

I grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling a few pieces. He groans into my mouth. I found his weak spot. I smile into the kiss.

I pull away from him. He raises an eyebrow at the movement. I then clamber on top of him, my legs wrapping over his sides. He puts both of his hands onto my hips to hold me upright. He looks up at me. He's exasperated. I think he's trying to formulate some snarky comment but all he can do is stare at me.

I lean down to kiss him again. He starts playing with my hair, kissing along my collarbones. He sucks and bites every now and then. I play with the chain at his neck, my other hand nearing the top button of his shirt. I tilt my head up to allow him better access. He licks along the base of my throat.

"I thought you said one kiss," I mutter. He's surely painted my skin with a whole load of lovebites.

He just shuts me up by kissing me once again. This time is more passionate that the last. He's bring down softly on my lips, tongue still looking around my mouth. My body is pressed flush against his. He loosely wraps his fingers around my neck, thumbs running up and down. I grind my hips against him. He grunts. "Hina..." He looks up at me. He's now bright red. He's still got his hands around my neck.

I hook my fingers to get under his shirt, slide my hands under the fabric. He leans his head further against the floor as I lean down to press my lips to his lower abs. My fingertips feel every part, as if I'm sculpting a God. His body is too good to be true. I start to suck down on his skin. He's sighing and breathing heavily. He holds onto the back of head for dear life. I start to unbutton his shirt. He puts his hands underneath my shirt as I do, cautiously sliding upwards. Once I've undone every button, I lick a stripe from his lower abs to the centre of his chest. I'm driving him insane. He keeps muttering words under his breath.

"Do you regret blocking me on Instagram now?" I move away from his torso to admire my work. There are at least ten lovebites on his skin, all scattered around his body. He pulls his body upwards to allow me to take of his shirt. I then throw it off to the side.

"Maybe." His hands are cupping my boobs over my bra. He just lets them stay there for a while.

I run my fingertips over the muscles in his back. His shoulder blades shift around. I fall on top of him. We're both tired out of our minds.

"I want to— you know. But, I'm so tired," he admits. "I don't think we'll enjoy it that much."

I glance down at his jeans. I could feel how hard he was. "I could..."

"It's fine," he whispers. He pulls me down against his bare chest. He starts to fiddle with the little braids scattered through my hair. "I just want you here. Hina, you're fucking perfect."

"Says you." I still can't get over how good of a kisser he is.

"I want to stay here forever." He presses his lips to my forehead.

I take a deep breath. Kiss him again. Now, he kisses me slowly. I drift back down to his chest and listen to each pounding beat of his heart until I'm lulled into a deep sleep.

[thegrimalldis]

This is for the very special nonnie who sent me their headcanon/au story for Chriszola. If you would like to read it, I put it under the cut!

My very very very long AU Chriszola headcanon goes like this. From where you currently left them off in the story they continue to grow closer as friends now that Zola’s told him the truth about Green Eyes and they made up over what Chris said to Max. Zola keeps working on writing and recording Circus Attraction and is thriving in the creative process. She’s doing so well in fact that Eric(?) the CEO for Rift Records is NOT happy to see that Zola is on her way to producing another hit album. So Eric has one of the producers working on Zola’s album send over one of the tracks to Mikael for Hailee to secretly record. Rift Records pull the ultimate snake move and release an EP from Hailee that was completely stolen from the album Zola was working on. Hailee goes viral on TikTok with the song breaking Spotify streaming records. Zola is absolutely devastated to the point where she doesn’t leave her house for two weeks and cancels several appearances she has and Chris is so concerned he goes and stays with her to make sure she’s eating and taking care of herself. The sleuth Zolanators end putting together that Hailee’s new hit song must have been written by Zola based on lyrics and stylistic similarities between the song and the music off of the Green Eyes album. But Zola isn’t credited as a writer on the song! Based on Zola’s cancelled appearances, social media silence, and leaks within the music industry it goes public that Zolanation’s theory about her song being stolen was right! Zola leaves her house for the first time in weeks to pick up some groceries and is hounded by the press to the point where she gets caught on camera having a panic attack while trying to safely exit the store. The store owner ends up having to call an ambulance/the police and Zola ends up checking herself into a facility so that she can receive treatment for her mental health and the stress she’s been under. Chris goes with Zola’s mom Lorelai to drop her off at the treatment center. Rift Records and Hailee receive a TON of backlash. It’s so bad that both are also blamed for Zola’s panic attack and stay at the treatment center.

While Zola is at the treatment center for two months, Chris runs into Hailee at one of Nate’s parties. She tries to approach Chris but he gives her the cold shoulder as he thinks that she was aware that she was singing Zola’s music. Hailee tells him that she had no idea the single had been written by Zola, as Mikael (her producer) came to her one day and said that Eric had a great new single in mind that he thought would be perfect for her. Hailee recorded the song trusting the more experienced producers around her. Had she known the song had been stolen from Zola’s upcoming album she would have said no to recording it. Hailee feels awful about what went down with Zola because she herself was a huge Zola fan as a teen and has always admired her for paving the way for other female musicians like herself. Chris believes her. During this same time, the Grimalldis are not the kindest when it comes to Zola. They don’t know anything about the true rumors going around about Rift Records stealing her song to give it too Hailee. They just know she had a public meltdown of some sort and is off in “rehab.” Lottie makes an offhand comment one night during a family dinner about how this is Zola’s karma coming to get her and in a very rare moment for Chris he goes off on her at the dinner table. Telling her and his family how disappointed he is to hear them judging Zola, a woman they don’t know, when they have no clue what’s really been going on with her. He tells them about her mental health struggles, and how Rift Records had already been trying to phase her out before this incident, and how the label stole her song to give to Hailee. Chris also reveals that Zola never meant to publish Green Eyes, that it was leaked by someone else to get her a breakthrough hit and that she and him have made up over it. But mostly he tells his family he’s disappointed to hear them belittling someone who is so clearly suffering at the moment, especially because of their own family’s history with public breakdowns (cc: Cora attacking Josh’s car/Eleanor’s failed wedding). Chris believes he was raised better than this and that his family is capable of more empathy and compassion than is being displayed. Even if they don’t believe Zola about Green Eyes he tells them that they should be embarrassed of themselves for not trusting Chris’ own judgment and respecting his friendship with Zola, because if he was able to forgive her and move on from what happened then as his family they should respect that. He coldly gets up and leaves the table leaving behind a crying Lottie who feels terrible and a stunned rest of the table.

During her stay at the treatment facility, Zola connects well with one of the counselors there who is able to get her to delve into the sources of much of her anxiety and depression (her relationship with her dad, lack of friends besides Chris, trust issues, an unhealthy relationship with food etc). She makes good progress while in treatment and when she leaves she actually sends her dad a handwritten note she wrote him while in treatment opening up about how their poor relationship has impacted her, telling him she’s not ready to see him right now but one day hopes they can sit down and repair their relationship. Lorelai (her mom) picks her up from the treatment center, and brings Zola back home where she is shocked to find that Chris has delivered a huge assortment of sunflowers (Zola’s favorite) with a note about how he wanted to bring some sunshine to her and that he can’t wait to see her once she’s settled back in. Lorelai sees the smile on Zola’s face reading the card and tells her “I think that I may have been wrong about that Grimalldi boy. He checked in with me everyday while you were away to make sure that you were okay.” While away Zola wasn’t getting her hair dyed, and she decides now that she’s back home that she’s done with the look that Rift Records designed for her. She goes to see her hair stylist and has them color her hair back to her natural brunette color. When Chris sees her for the first time since she got back home it brings a huge smile to his face to see Zola back to her natural roots. He offers to refer her to his lawyers if she wants to sue Rift Records and Eric, Zola thanks him and tells him that she and her lawyers are working on their solution. Zola ends up having a meeting with her team of lawyers and Eric’s. Her terms are simple: a writing credit on the song they stole from her and gave to Hailee; to be let out of her contract early with no money owed to the label , and to allow her to leave with al of the unfinished circus attraction tracks that she and her producers had been working on. Eric laughs at her and tells her that Rift Records own all of the music that she’s written in the past as well as her upcoming album and that if she wants out the label won’t allow her to take the new music she was working on elsewhere. Zola calls his bluff and tells Eric that if he doesn’t acquiesce to her more than fair terms she will go the press and agree to a sit down interview where she spills all to the world about the toxic nature of the label, how Eric stole her music to try and prop up Haille and pit them against each other, and how the pressures and stress she faced over years of mistreatment culminated in her public breakdown. Her lawyers are prepared to sue Rift Records for intentional infliction of emotional distress and copyright infringement based on an obscure clause in Zola’s contract that gave her songwriting credits on released Rift Records musical property. Zola makes it clear to Eric that holding her and her music hostage will simply be a PR nightmare and that her fans have already publicized what he did to her and Hailee. The legal team for Rift Records advises Eric to agree to Zola’s terms and in exchange she gets no money that was still owed to her under her contract and the label still owns the rights to all her previous music. Zola agrees so that she can finally be free to move on and make new music the way she wants.

With her newfound freedom, Zola signs with a smaller label that is more client based and actually has female producers (a rarity in the music industry). Zola and her new producer Maya get along very well and together they finish writing and producing the Circus Attraction Album. Hailee reaches out to Zola after it’s announced that she’s left Rift Records and the two privately meet up to discuss what went down with the song. They talk everything out and even manage to post a photo together on their insta grids showing them meeting up together with the caption “#womensupportingwomen” which sends both their fanbases into a tizzy and has Eric and Rift Records trending for hours on twitter being dragged as a misogynist who tried to make these two girls enemies of each other. While Zola is getting her career back on track, Margot has a talk with Max and tells him that Chris was right, the family behaved very poorly in their reactions to Zola’s struggles and they had no right to judge her so harshly when they themselves are far from perfect. Max says that even though Chris says he and Zola have made up he still is weary about Chris being friends with her because he viewed her notoriety and fans as being a liability to the family’s public image. Margot says that they have to trust Chris in whom he is friends with. Max says he’s worried that they may become more than just friends to which Margot reminds him that if that day comes they will cross that bridge then. Chris ignored Lottie’s many phone calls for a week until she sent him a photo of Clarice saying that his niece missed her Uncle Chris. Chris agreed to meet up with Lottie and she apologized for how insensitive her comments were, telling him that her anger over the years came from how hurt she knew Chris had been back then. She realizes that he was right in not knowing who Zola as an adult was and that kicking her while she was down was not cool as Lottie is a better person than that. She tells Chris she’s still uncomfortable with him being so close with Zola now because she thinks her world is not right for Chris. Chris assures her for the umpteenth time that they are just friends and he needs to respect that. Lottie agrees to back off. Zola and Chris continue being best friends and she eventually debuts Circus Attraction to record breaking success.

Circus Attraction is the biggest success of Zola’s career and over the next two years she debuts the album and embarks on a world-wide stadium tour, selling out every venue and rebranding her image as the Queen of Pop.  Chris and Zola continue their friendship and meet up when they can in-between her tour stops. Chris makes sure to have food delivered to Zola’s hotel/tour bus at least once a week while she’s on tour to continue their tradition of him making sure she eats a real meal. During those two years Chris continues his royal work as the Duke of Wells and has two non-serious relationships. He dates a Windasian model for 4 months and then a few months later dates a marketing executive for six months that he met through mutual friends at a dinner party. Zola meets both of them, and neither takes a liking to the “best friend” that Chris is always delivering food too and texting 24/7. Lottie is still dropping hints to Chris that he and a single Emi should get back together, as she wasn’t a fan of the model (who she met once briefly ) and is mad she never even got to meet the marketing executive. Zola on the other hand stays single (aside from some much needed one night stands cause a girl has needs) and focuses on herself and planning her next album.

Once her Circus Attraction Tour is over and she’s back in Monaca she tells Chris about how even when she was on tour she felt like she still didn’t really get to enjoy any of the places she went too b/c she was on such a busy schedule and how she wishes she’d had more downtime. Chris tells her that she still can and tells her to be spontaneous with him and catch a flight to Paris that night. Zola is obviously confused and tells him they can’t just jump on a plane! Chris is like “why not? It’s Saturday and I don’t have any engagements until Monday.” Tempted by Chris’ offer of a full day of sightseeing with her best friend and the use of the Grimalldi private jet she agrees. They fly to Paris and spend the day lazily wandering down the city streets, stopping for lunch inside street side cafes indulging in French bread with homemade butter, croissants, and all the delicacies Parisian bakeries have to offer. To keep themselves under the radar they don’t go to any fancy restaurants for dinner instead buying cheap wine and delicious food from street vendors. As the night wears on they end up at one of the parks that has a picturesque view of the Eiffel Tower, sitting there under the stars, full moon shining down at them, Zola thanks Chris for being there for her and tells him that she truly doesn’t believe she would have survived the last three years without him. Chris echoes her sentiments. Zola then laughs telling him that since she was a kid she’d always dreamed of spending a night underneath the Paris skyline with a mysterious Frenchman who swept her off her feet. She never imagined she’d actually to do it with her ex-boyfriend/best friend who just soo happens to be a prince. As they’re both laying in the grass Chris tickles her at that remark and they both start to laugh as Chris hits all of Zola’s ticklish spots. Sparks fly as he ends up hovered right above her and for a brief moment their lips almost touch. They start intensely at one another before Zola breaks away laughing a bit to lighten up the mood. But despite their attempts to laugh off their almost kiss, both are now aware that something has shifted for each of them. Zola tells Chis that she knows he’s lonely and that he thinks he’ll never fall in love again after Emi, but she tells him that she thinks that he’s wrong and that hell fall in love again one day without even realizing it. During their red-eye flight home early that next morning both are consumed with thoughts about what happened. And while Chris is asleep on the plane, the sunlight pouring through the window and falling on his face, Zola starts  humming along a melody that coms to mind, eventually writing down on her napkin the following lyrics: “I want to brainwash you into loving me forever. Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.” These lyrics spark her creativity for her next album and end up being the first track she writes, with the song aptly titled “Paris” (cc; Taylor’s Swift’s song Paris off the Midnight Albums to hear what it sounds like).

Back in Monaca, Zola is eager to get back into the studio and start working on her next album feeling inspired by the initial lyrics she’s written down so far for “Paris” Meanwhile Chris gets back into work and trying to convince himself that what he felt in Paris for Zola was just a momentary lapse of tension fueled by being in Paris. They are just friends. Zola on the other hand has long realized that she’s had feelings for Chris. Before her public breakdown she knew she had a crush on him, and once she got out of treatment and was regularly seeing a therapist she accepted that those feelings were more than a crush, especially as she and Chris grew closer over the next several years. But because she knew Chris only saw her as a friend she never said anything, and has just been focused on taking care of herself. Over the next few months Chris keeps having to stop himself from thinking of Zola in a romantic way as his attraction to her grows. Things hit a huge roof spot though when Zola finds out that her dad has been diagnosed with terminal prostate cancer. She hasn’t spoken to her dad in three years since their argument that sparked the idea for Circus Attraction. Despite her reaching out to him after she got out of treatment he never responded to her letter and Zola had decided to just move on. Her dad’s diagnosis hits Zola very hard as Thaddeus is only 60 years old. Zola goes through the full range of emotions, anger at her dad for not ever reaching out to her when she was in crisis and at her worst physically and mentally, sadness that they don’t have the time together she thought they would to repair things, regret at all the time they lost out on together. Thad’s prognosis is not good and the doctors only give him a few months to live, not wanting to die in the hospital he elects to forgo treatment and spend his final days at home with Sharon. Sharon and Greg reach out to Zola and beg her to come see Thad as they don’t want him to die with the two of them estranged. Zola declines to go see him the first two months after he’s diagnosed as she’s still processing her feelings over the situation. Finally she gets a call from Sharon telling her it’s now or never. Chris volunteers to go with Zola to say goodbye to her dad as he knows that she doesn’t want to go alone, and Lorelai doesn’t want to see him. Zola arrives to see her dad and it’s clear that Thaddeus is in his last days and won’t be conscious for much longer. Zola sits down with him and tells him it’s her, as at this point he’s having a hard time deciphering who he’s talking too. In his disoriented state Thaddeus doesn’t recognize her, and keeps asking for his “little girl” making Zola realize that he’s referring to her. Knowing she’ll never be able to have the conversation with him she’s so desperately wanted, she instead takes his hand and starts singing Jeff Buckley’s version of Hallelujah, tears streaming down her face. Thaddeus calms down and drifts off into sleep, never fully regaining consciousness before he passes away three days laters. Unbeknownst to Zola, Chris and Sharon are watching Zola and Thaddeus' goodbye from the hallway. Both in tears it’s at this moment that Chris realizes that he thinks he’s falling in love with his best friend.

After Zola’s dad dies, Chris is more confused than ever. He goes to Edmund’s house because he needs someone to talk things over with. He tells Edmund how he always knew that Emi was the love of his life and that he could never imagine himself loving anyone else the way that he loved her. But that now he has feelings for Zola and he’s not sure what to do. Edmund tells Chris that two things can be true at once. Emi was a great love of Chris’ life, and what he had with her was special and one of a kind and isn’t something that he’ll share with anyone else again in the same way. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t fall in love with someone else and experience a great love story with them that is just theirs and just as worth having. Like Edmund says  if Chris thinks that he and Zola are worth taking that risk together, then he needs to stop wasting his time talking to Edmund and go tell Zola that 😂 Shortly after this Chris and Zola both end up attending another party of Nate’s. At this party Maya, Zola’s producer introduces her to an artist named Matt that she’s friends with and who she has been wanting to get Zola on a date with forever. Zola and Matt hit off and are just engaging in interesting small talk when Chris arrives at the party. He sees Zola with Matt and can tell that Matt’s interested in her. Although he knows it’s not fair for him to feel this way, he’s jealous plain and simple. In typical Chris fashion when he’s uncomfortable he retreats inwardly, and spends the rest of the party ignoring Zola and Matt. Zola on the other hand notices that Chris is there and when she tries to say hi to him is hurt when he quickly blows her off, briefly introducing himself to Matt before walking away to chat with Nate for the rest of the night. Pissed off Zola shows up at Chris’ house after the party and demands to know why he was ignoring her all night. Chris denies he was ignoring her to which Zola calls bullshit. “I’ve been your best friend for four years now Chris. I know when you’re lying. Just be honest with me” Chris insists that he just was in a bad mood and didn’t want to disturb her and Matt. This really upsets Zola as she realizes now that he was jealous. She tells Chris that this isn’t fair, that he doesn’t get to have her as his best friend, but then ignore her when she’s just talking to another guy. Especially when it’s been obvious since she got out of the treatment center that she’s been in love with him. Chris is shocked to hear Zola say it out loud and she repeats herself: “There I said it. I’m in love with you Chris. I’ve been in love with you all this time and I think deep down part of you has always known that.” Zola breaks down and with tears starting to trickle down her eye tells Chris that she thought she could keep her feelings to herself, just accept only having Chris as her friend, but that she realizes now it’s not fair to either of them to do that. She deserves to be with someone who loves her and that if Chris doesn’t feel the same way he needs to tell her so that she can finally let go of the possibility of Chris and move on with her life. Chris is genuinely stunned and doesn’t know what to say. He tells Zola that over the last year since their Paris trip he has thought of her as more than a friend but that he didn’t know how to handle it and doesn’t know what to do. Zola is heartbroken and tells him that she thinks they both need some space away from each other. As she’s leaving his house she drops off an envelope for him and tells him it’s an early birthday present.

A week goes by and Chris and Zola still haven’t spoken. Chris is informed at the last minute that he needs to take Eleanor’s place on an upcoming engagement in Gardania (much to Lottie’s delight) because Eleanor’s doctor has advised her not to travel due to her pregnancy complications (she’s pregnant with Ingrid at this point). Chris travels to Gardania where he undertakes an engagement with none other than Miss Emilia DeVilliers herself. Chrisemi undertake their engagement together, astutely handling the press’ invasive questions about whether they’re going to get back together. After the engagement is over Emi asks Chris if he’d like to have dinner with her that night as friends to catch up. Chris agrees. They have dinner and easily fall back into their old banter and routine with one another. An hour and 2 glasses of wine into dinner Emi mentions the elephant in the room and asks Chris if he ever imagines what their lives together would have been like had they not broken up. Chris tells her of course he has, that everyday for the first few years after their break up he thought about her and wished that he had been more mature so that he could have handled his military deployment better. He apologizes to Emi for not communicating with her properly and tells her that she deserved more than to be blindsided like that. Emi accepts his apology and apologizes for not having recognized sooner that Chris was struggling at the time and that trying to fix things for him wasn’t what he needed. She also says she’s sorry if she hurt him once she started dating Bart. Chris admits he was upset about it because he knew that Bart had feelings for Emi while they were together and it made him second guess whether she did too. Emi says she didn’t and that after the break up she was so heart broken that it was just easy and comfortable to fall back into a relationship with Bart since they knew each other so well and trusted each other. She was lonely and he was the right person who was there for her when she needed it. This then leads Emi to ask Chris about Zola. Seeing them rekindle their friendship really surprised Emi and she had her own thoughts about whether Chris had thought about her during their relationship. Chris doesn’t hesitate to say no, absolutely not. He never thought about Zola while he was with Emi and probably never would have spoken to her again had they not both ended up together at Nate’s beach party that day. But even then Chris tells Emi he’s glad that he and Zola came back into each other’s lives when they did because they were both there for one another when they really needed it. Staring at him Emi can tell that Chris cares about Zola quite deeply, and she tells him quietly that she thinks he should tell Zola that he’s in love with her. A surprised Chris aks Emi how she can tell and she said its obvious from the way that his face lights up when he talks about as it her reminds Emi of how he used to look at her when they were together. Chris tells Emi he thinks he’s already blown his chance, but she tells him to learn from their mistakes and go after her. As they end their evening giving each other a warm hug goodbye, neither notices that they’ve been photographed by an annoying paparazzo with a long-lease camera from across the street.

The next morning Chris awakens to a flurry of text messages and missed calls from his press secretary, Helena, Max, and most importantly Lottie as photos of him and Emi from the night before have been posted all over the internet proclaiming them back together. Chris freaks out because he realizes how this is going to look to Zola and he doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea about him and Emi. He tries calling and texting her but doesn’t get a response. On his flight back home to Monaca as he’s stressing he remembers the envelope Zola had left him. He’d packed it inside his briefcase but had forgotten to open it. Inside it the envelope is a flash drive and a note that simply reads: “to the only person I’d want to explore Paris with” Intrigued Chris plugged the flash drive into his laptop and clicked play on the single track labeled “Paris” as he did he was taken aback hearing the song that Zola had written about their night together. Hearing Zola belt out:

I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever. I wanna transport you. To somewhere the culture’s clever. Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters. Let the only flashing lights be the tower at midnight….in an alleyway, drinking champagne. Cause we were in Paris. Yes we were somewhere else. My love, we were in Paris, Yes we were somewhere else.”

Chris realized not only how much Zola loved him but how much he loved her too. When his plane landed he called his press secretary and told him to put out a statement denying the reports about him an Emi and to clear his schedule for the rest of the day because he had an important stop he had to make. Racing over to Zola’s house Chris banged on the door hoping she was home. When Zola answered Chris told her to not say anything and to just hear him out: He didn’t know what she’d heard or seen online about him and Emi but none of it was true. It was just two friends saying goodbye after a great dinner together. And the reason he needed her to know is because she’s his best friend, and being honest with each other is what they do. Which is why he was sorry for not being honest with her about his feelings for her sooner. Because the truth is that he’s in love with her and he has been ever since their night together in Paris. He was just too scared to admit it because after Emi he was so heartbroken he thought he would never fall in love again and he didn’t want to get hurt. That night in Paris Zola had told Chris that one day he would fall in love again without even realizing it, and she was right, he had…with her. Slowly and then all at once. He’d listened to “Paris” and although he wasn’t the mysterious frenchman of her dreams, if she’d have him he would love to be the guy she always wants to roam the streets of Paris with. Queue Zola jumping into Chris’ arms and telling him “it took you long enough” as they both laugh and share a movie-worthy kiss.

Chris and Zola start dating and four months later the Grimalldi’s press office announces their relationship after being tipped off that the press was about to publish a story on them dating.  Their relationship announcement sends Zolanation into such a freak out that they break twitter and cause the app to go down from all the freak outs over their reunion. Zola’s next album comes out two months later with Paris as the debut track (released with Chris’ permission). And after realizing that Paris is about Chris, most of Zolanation become ardent supporters of their rekindled romance. At Margot’s behest the rest of the family is respectful and supportive of Chris dating Zola. Even Lottie comes to like Zola the more time she actually starts to spend with her. A year and half into their relationship Chris tells Helena + Marmax that he wants to propose to Zola and that once they’re married he’s stepping down from being a working royal. Chris lets them know that he’ll continue to serve the family with dignity in the future work he wants to pursue but that he wants to build a life with Zola and he knows that being a working royal isn’t for her. Helena and Max are NOT happy about this but Margot makes it clear to them that they need to respect Chris’ choices or risk losing him. With Margot ever the voice of reason, Helena and Max give Chris their blessing to propose to Zola. Chris proposes to Zola in Paris (of course) at midnight on the anniversary of the night of their infamous trip. They get married in a private ceremony on the beach where they first reconnected at Nate’s party 6 years ago. True to his word Chris renounces his duchy title and decides to start his own non-profit organization aimed at helping military veterans re-adjusting to civilian life. The inspiration was the series of journals his Uncle Nicholas had written during his military tenure and in his first year back at home after the Nihon War. Eliza had given the journals to Chris before he left for his initial deployment and they provided him with a lot of guidance during his first few years of service. Zola retired from singing and touring after her she and Chris got married as she wanted to settle down and have a family. Two years after their wedding they had twins Julian (boy) and Lydia (a girl) (aka the fake Chriszola babies you previously made). When the twins are three Zola eventually writes and produces an album of children’s lullabies inspired by her twins, the album is a success and she ends up winning another grammy for it. When the twins are four oopsie baby number three happens Evelyn (girl) aka Evie. She has Zola’s brown hair and the Grimalldi green eyes. Chris and Zola raise their kids out of the spotlight (as much as they can) but luckily for Zola’s fans after her children’s album she makes guest appearances over the years singing at some of the events put on by Chris’s non-profit. Although Zola was never able to really heal her relationship with her dad before he died, she remains close to her stepmom Sharon and her brother Greg. Chriszola happily grow old together watching their kids grow up. Julian ends up following in his dad’s footsteps and takes over running the non-profit once Chris retires. Lydia ends up becoming a famous fashion model and Evie becomes an archaeologist specializing in Ancient Egyptian history (yes this is 100% a nod to the badass that is Miss Evelyn O’Connor of The Mummy Series).

The End. 

[the-rewatch-rewind]

Another new episode! Getting into the home stretch!

Script below the break

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies in a 20-year period. Today I will be discussing number 8 on my list: Universal Pictures’ 1936 screwball comedy My Man Godfrey, directed by Gregory La Cava, written by Morrie Ryskind and Eric Hatch, based on a book by Eric Hatch, and starring William Powell and Carole Lombard.

The rich and spoiled Bullock sisters, Irene (Carole Lombard) and Cornelia (Gail Patrick), are participating in a scavenger hunt that requires them to find a “forgotten man,” so they race to a shanty town at a city dump. Cornelia gets there first and approaches a homeless man named Godfrey (William Powell), who finds her rude and condescending and therefore refuses to take her offered $5, instead causing her to fall into an ash pile. Irene is amused by Godfrey’s treatment of her sister/rival, and after a brief conversation, Godfrey is amused enough by Irene to agree to be her forgotten man. Irene is so grateful to him for helping her win the scavenger hunt against Cornelia that she offers him a job as the butler for their wacky family, and he accepts without having any idea what he’s in for.

I remember being introduced to this movie rather early in my foray into old Hollywood back in 2002. I can’t recall my exact first impressions, but I’m pretty sure I had seen it several times and was already kind of obsessed with it before I started keeping track of the movies I watched. Once I started keeping track, I watched My Man Godfrey six times in 2003, three times in 2004, three times in 2005, twice in 2007, once in 2008, twice in 2009, once in 2010, twice in 2011, once in 2013, once in 2014, once in 2017, once in 2018, twice in 2019, twice in 2020, once in 2021, and once in 2022.

The main thing that initially drew me to this movie was its silliness. Based on the movies I’ve talked about on this podcast so far, I think it’s pretty clear that I love to watch a bunch of ridiculous characters having a fun romp, and that’s what a lot of My Man Godfrey is. Angelica, the scatterbrained mother of the Bullock family, played delightfully by Alice Brady, is one of the silliest characters in any movie ever, and when I was a young teen, all she had to do was open her mouth to crack me up. Now I find some of her antics a bit grating, which they are definitely meant to be, but some of her lines do still make me laugh every time, like, “I’m positive I didn’t ride a horse last night because I didn’t have my riding costume on!” and “If you’re going to be rude to my daughter, you might at least take your hat off!” and, in response to Godfrey saying that he sold short to save the family from financial ruin, “I don’t understand, you sold short? You mean, gentlemen’s underwear?” My brother was particularly tickled by that last one as a child, to the point that when we played The Sims together, we created a character named Gentleman’s Underwear after that line.

Angelica is far from the only silly character in this movie, and what I love about the whole ensemble is that each character is entertaining in a different way. Angelica is scatterbrained and doesn’t really care what’s going on, while her husband Alexander (played by Eugene Pallette) has lost track of what’s going on mostly because he’s so fed up with his wife’s ridiculousness. And then there’s Carlo (played by Mischa Auer) who is Angelica’s “protégé,” and I’m still not really sure exactly what that means. I can’t tell if it’s a euphemism, or if she’s like, supposed to be teaching him piano? We definitely see him playing piano, and eating, and impersonating a gorilla, and reading to Angelica, and that seems to be all he does. So unclear what his purpose is, but he is amusing. On the other hand, Molly (played by Jean Dixon, who also played Edward Everett Horton’s wife in Holiday) has the very clear purpose of being the Bullock family’s maid. Her dry, sarcastic wit is amusing in an entirely different way that I love very much. There’s also Tommy Gray (played by Alan Mowbray), a friend of the Bullock family who also happens to recognize Godfrey from their college days. Not wanting to reveal that he came from a wealthy Boston family, Godfrey says that he was Tommy’s valet in college, forcing Tommy to try to invent a story explaining why Godfrey wouldn’t have given him as a reference when the Bullocks hired him. Tommy seems like a relatively normal guy who isn’t particularly bright. Watching him flounder in that scene could have easily become uncomfortable, but they managed to portray it in a way that’s just silly. And his invention of a wife and five children for Godfrey adds to the confusion and tension behind the main romance in the movie.

If you’ve listened to previous episodes of this podcast and have an especially keen memory, you may recall that Gregory La Cava also directed Stage Door, which was number 31 on my list and came out the year after My Man Godfrey. I’m not sure how much say he had in the casting of both of those movies, but I enjoy that there are several people who appeared in both, such as character actors Franklin Pangborn and Grady Sutton, neither of whom was credited in My Man Godfrey but both of whom make memorable appearances. The most notable cast member the two movies have in common is Gail Patrick, who was Ginger Rogers’s main rival besides Katharine Hepburn in Stage Door and Cornelia Bullock in My Man Godfrey. In both of these, as in most of her movies, Patrick’s character is rather unpleasant, but Cornelia is a bit more complex than that, and she fascinates me. She’s bitter and spoiled and mean to her sister and can’t decide if she wants to seduce Godfrey or hurt him or both. After Godfrey tells her what he thinks of her, she tries to frame him for robbery by hiding her pearl necklace under his mattress, but he manages to find it and hide it better before the police search his room. Cornelia is so insistent that it must be under the mattress that the police get suspicious and ask why she’s so sure of that, to which she responds with the amazing and thoroughly unconvincing line, “I read that that’s where people put things when they steal them!” Shockingly, even after all of this, the story actually redeems Cornelia somewhat. Godfrey is able to save the family financially by pawning her necklace, and after he reveals this he tells her that he, too, was once a spoiled child, and that she has the potential to be a good person if she so chooses. Cornelia is visibly moved by his words, and while we unfortunately never see her again after that scene, I like to believe that she takes them to heart and stops being so awful going forward.

But as much as I love all the supporting characters, I don’t think I’d have watched this movie nearly as many times if not for the leads. William Powell brings just the right combination of sophistication and jadedness to the role of Godfrey, making it easy to believe that he was once a rich man but lost everything he had to a woman he loved who betrayed him. It’s beautiful to watch him rediscover his own purpose and humanity in response to the Bullocks’ kindness and choose to focus on the positive aspects of their quirks. When William Powell was offered the role of Godfrey, he agreed to take it only if Carole Lombard would play Irene, knowing that she would be perfect, and he was completely correct. Lombard absolutely kills it as Irene, flawlessly combining the dramatic naïveté of an overgrown toddler with a genuine desire to be a good and mature person. And the way Powell and Lombard play off each other is utterly delightful. Their first conversation sets up their dynamic beautifully – he’s rather amused by her, but she takes everything he says extremely seriously. Like when she asks him, “Why do you live in a place like this when there are so many nice places?” and he responds, “It’s because my real estate agent felt that the altitude would be very good for my asthma,” she doesn’t seem to know that he’s joking, and says, “Oh my uncle has asthma!” And he just rolls with it and replies, “No! Well, now there’s a coincidence!” This is already funny as written, but their delivery and facial expressions make it so much funnier. Then probably my favorite part of the movie is when Irene is sulking and trying to get Godfrey to notice her, but she mostly just comes across as ridiculous, and Cornelia is heckling her mercilessly. Godfrey is trying to act uninterested, but it’s clear from a few of his glances in her direction that he really does want to give her the attention she craves. It’s readily apparent from all of their scenes that they both thoroughly understood the assignment and knew how to play off each other. Powell and Lombard had worked together twice before and had even been briefly married to each other from 1931 to 1933. Despite the fact that things didn’t work out between them romantically in real life, they remained good friends, and seem to have only used their history to bring out the best performance in each other here. It is kind of funny that Godfrey keeps telling Irene that she’s way too young for him because it’s like, “You clearly didn’t think she was too young when you married her five years ago!” Mostly, though, it just makes me really happy as someone who has no interest in pursuing romantic relationships to know that it was Powell and Lombard’s post-divorce friendship that led to possibly the best movie that either of them ever made. It’s so encouraging to see the evidence that sometimes the relationship between two people can actually get better when they stop trying to make it romantic.

However, it took me a while to see things that way, because in the movie itself, Godfrey and Irene do end up together romantically. Once I learned that the actors were divorced in real life, my first thought was more, “Wow, amazing that they could still pretend to be in love after falling out of love.” In more recent rewatches, I’ve come to realize that the romance in the movie is very weird – which, to be fair, is quite usual for screwball comedies – but I think as an obliviously aromantic teenager it greatly informed what I thought romance was. Irene meets a nice man who helps her win a game against her awful sister and decides to be in love with him, so all she has to do is convince him that he’s also in love with her. Not understanding that romantic attraction was a thing that I was not experiencing, teenaged me thought that was how that worked: you just pick somebody and decide you have a crush on them, and if the other person has also picked you to be their crush, romance is born. Right? Apparently not. Anyway, in more recent rewatches, when it gets to the part where Godfrey tells Irene, “You’re grateful to me because I helped you to beat Cornelia. And I’m grateful to you because you helped me to beat life. But that doesn’t mean that we have to fall in love,” I’m like, “Correct! It doesn’t mean that! You don’t have to fall in love!” But the movie implies that Godfrey is suppressing his feelings for Irene because of the previous bad relationship that led to his homelessness, and it expects us to all be on board with the way Irene follows him after he quits and basically forces him to marry her. The older I get, the more this ending bothers me. I realize that it’s meant to be part of the screwball silliness of it all, and that it was inevitable for a movie like this to make the male and female lead end up together, but it’s like, can we maybe make sure that Godfrey is on board with that first? I can very much see their marriage going the same way as that of the actors who played them, with Irene and Godfrey ultimately concluding that they’re better suited as friends than lovers. But again, as a young person watching this movie, I thought their relationship was beautiful. Soon after I first got really into My Man Godfrey, my friend had a Build-A-Bear birthday party, and I named my bear Godfrey. I can’t remember who I was talking to or how this came up, but I remember making the declaration that if I was still single at 40, I would marry that Godfrey bear. So if you’re listening to this, consider yourself invited to our wedding in seven years. It probably won’t be much weirder than Irene and Godfrey’s wedding at the end of this movie.

There is another element to My Man Godfrey besides its silliness and unconvincing romance that makes it particularly fascinating. While most 1930s screwball comedies seem to be intended to help audiences temporarily forget about the hardships of the Great Depression, My Man Godfrey uses the Depression as a big part of the plot. The rich are portrayed as frivolous and ridiculous, while the homeless “forgotten men” are portrayed as resilient and noble. Godfrey reveals to Tommy that after having his heart broken, he intended to drown himself in the river, but seeing people living at the dump next to the river, determined to survive despite their circumstances, made him change his mind. The hard times even impact the well-to-do, with Alexander Bullock nearly losing everything in bad investments. At first it seems odd that Godfrey would use the money from Cornelia’s necklace merely to help the rich snobs, but then it’s revealed that in addition to that, he converted the dump he used to live in to a nightclub, creating jobs, and affordable housing. And all of that was possible because the jobless men convinced Godfrey to keep living, then Irene was nice enough to employ Godfrey as a butler, and Cornelia was bitter enough to try to frame him for robbery. I assume that doing something like that would not have been nearly as easy as the movie makes it look, but I appreciate that instead of leaning into the pure escapism of so many films from that era, My Man Godfrey says, “Yes, times are hard, but don’t give up hope. Things can improve unexpectedly at any time. And small kindnesses can add up to make a very big difference.” And that message continues to resonate 87 years later. So while this is mostly a very silly comedy, its genuine moments showing the importance of human connection help keep it from descending into complete and utter chaos like some other screwball comedies I could name.

And perhaps it was that touch of seriousness that led this mostly silly comedy to six Oscar nominations: Gregory La Cava for Best Director, Eric Hatch and Morrie Ryskind for Best Adapted Screenplay, William Powell for Best Actor, Carole Lombard for Best Actress, Mischa Auer for Best Supporting Actor, and Alice Brady for Best Supporting Actress. This made My Man Godfrey the first movie to be nominated in all four acting categories, which isn’t saying much because that was also the first year that the Oscars had four acting categories, but it remains the only film to this day to be nominated in all four acting categories without being nominated for Best Picture. And it was the only movie to be nominated in those six categories without winning anything until American Hustle, 77 years later. Of all the people nominated for Oscars for My Man Godfrey, only Alice Brady would ever win one, for In Old Chicago the following year. The director and one of the writers would each be nominated once more, also the following year, for Stage Door. William Powell had been nominated once before, for 1934’s The Thin Man, and would be nominated again for 1947’s Life With Father. But this was the only nomination for both Mischa Auer and Carole Lombard. Lombard in particular really wanted an Oscar and moved on to dramatic roles for a few years hoping that would help, but it didn’t. So she briefly returned to comedy before her career and life were tragically cut short by a plane crash in 1942, when she was only 33 years old. So, my age. I feel like, had Carole Lombard lived longer and continued to make more films in a similar vein, she probably would have made it into more than one of my top 40. The more I rewatch My Man Godfrey, the more impressed I become with her performance. This is one of the few old movies that actually has a blooper reel available, and that shows just how different her normal speech and facial expressions and mannerisms were from Irene’s. I have watched and enjoyed several of Lombard’s other films, but a lot of them are a bit too silly even for me, and I really wish she could have been in more of the still fun and kooky but not-quite-as-screwball-as-the-‘30s comedies that were just starting to become popular around the time of her death. But at least we get to see her in My Man Godfrey. Thank you, William Powell.

My Man Godfrey was remade in 1957, and I watched that version one time in 2003, reacted with, Ew, they ruined it,and have never rewatched it. Maybe I will someday, just to see if it’s as bad as I remember it. No offense to that cast – there was no possible way to reach the standard set by the original. Sometimes remakes are great, but sometimes the original was already perfect and shouldn’t be messed with, and in my opinion, My Man Godfrey absolutely falls into the latter category. So what I’m saying is, if this podcast has made you want to watch this movie, make sure you get the 1936 version.

Thank you for listening to me discuss another of my most frequently rewatched movies. Next week I will be joined by not one but two very special guests, to discuss the longer of the two movies I watched 30 times, which is going to be very fun, so stay tuned for that. As always, I will leave you with a quote from that next movie: “Wait up! Wait for me! Not you, I don’t even know you!”

[bryhaven]

Top 10 Films

Thank you for the tag, @onigiri-dorkk! I've been tagged in a number of challenge posts, and I will try to get to them soon ahah 😅

This was supposed to be a discussion of films but then again, I managed to find AOT/SNK and RivaMika parallels while going through this list 😂

This challenge has been fun and it was hard to pick only 10, let alone rank them! But for the sake of the game, I tried 😌

10. The King and I (1999)

A musical animated adaptation of a Siamese (now called Thai) King who hires an English schoolteacher to have his country learn western modern ways. It was very amusing and enjoyable that the villain and accomplice here are written as comedic. And the added young love story between the crown prince and the servant girl is endearing. And I'm actually fond of forbidden love tropes ahaha. Plus the musical scenes are fun and brilliant! A great family movie! 🥰

9. Troy (2004)

A story focusing on the Trojan war and the heroes in it. I've always enjoyed historical and legend-type movies as they give a glimpse of life in ancient times. I appreciate Achilles (Brad Pitt) and Hector (Eric Bana) in the movie so much that I included them in my AMV tribute to heroes and legends. The Iliad, which is the battle between Achilles and Hector, is one of my favorite legendary fights. Plus one of Achilles' last scenes and the line, "You gave me peace, in a lifetime of war." is so heartwarming. And now that I think of it, it's something that Levi could say to a certain special someone during post-war. 😏

8. Unknown (2011)

An action-thriller revolving around seeking the truth, hence the title. Liam Neeson always delivers when it comes to action and suspense-filled scenes (plus he is the namesake of my Ackerchild OC 😌). The story progression will keep you on the edge of your seat and leave you wondering until the plot twist turns into an answer with a shocking revelation. His character is also badass, brooding, and serious, while also suffering from injury and trauma. Reminds me too much of a certain someone in SnK. 😄 Plus the way that the two main characters develop from reluctantly working together to understanding and caring for each other is just *screams in RivaMika vibes*

7. Brother Bear (2003)

A story about literally walking in another's footsteps to learn a valuable lesson by seeing the other's point of view. It showcases brotherly and familial love in a lighthearted adventure. Watching the movie has a significant and special meaning to me for personal reasons. The plot twist is absolutely heart-wrenching and beautifully executed. Plus the original soundtracks gave me chills, were perfect for each and every exhilarating scene, and hold the rare honor of making me cry. 😭

6. Taken (2008)

Another one of Liam Neeson's action-packed movies. This revolves around the rescue of his character's daughter from human trafficking. As always, his character is badass, brooding, and serious. Some daddy issues, wherein his character struggles with fatherhood to a growing teenage girl. Fatherly love 💖 and gotta love the brilliance of how he tracks down his daughter and saves her. His style and strategies blew my mind, it's amazing! Plus that line in the GIF is iconic!

5. Entrapment (1999)

A story of two thieves, skillful in their own ways, working together to steal an ancient artifact. I love how they came up with brilliant spy-like strategies and synced together to accomplish the task. Recollecting this reminded me as well of @chaosisbeauty23's "Are you in?" two-shot spy story. It gave me similar vibes. Sean Connery's character trained Catherine Zeta-Jones' character, they had trust issues and conflicts, and they grew close through the duration of the preparation until they eventually got to trust each other enough to continue working together. Plus the age difference! Rings a bell? *screams again in RivaMika vibes*

4. Kiss of the Dragon (2001)

A story of a cop helping to crack a major drug ring and ending up having to save a prostitute and her daughter to ultimately resolve it. I guess I have always been fond of unexpectedly-working-together and damsel-in-distress tropes, and this movie has two of those tropes in it! 😂 Recollecting this reminded me of @nuri148's "Not a Pirate" where Mikasa has a child. I love the chemistry between Jet Li and Bridget Fonda here, you can feel the tension and awkwardness ahaha. Plus the height difference! *screams again and again in RivaMika vibes* ghad seriously why am I associating these films I watched years ago with the current RM fics I've read bahaha 😂😅

3. Con Air (1997)

A story of an ex-convict trying to get home to his family after he's been finally freed. I always go soft whenever strong, badass, brooding guys show tenderness and affection with regard to their families or the people they care for. Levi Ackerman as a father, anyone? 😌 This story hits with both the action and the feels. Plus the "How do I live without you?" performed by Trisha Yearwood is just *chef's kiss*

2. Brave (2012)

A story of a princess struggling with life as a royal and trying to find her own path. Merida is my favorite Disney princess and I find her relatable in ways. I enjoyed the adventurous-type songs here as well. I absolutely love her unconventional and strong character which deviates from the typical dainty and girly princesses. She's spirited, stubborn, and won't take any BS 😂 Plus she's great with a sword!

1. The One (2001)

And finally at the top 1 spot is coincidentally "The One" released in 2001 bahaha 😂 another one of Jet Li's action-packed movies which I love. And there are two Jet Lis in here ahaha. The story revolves around Yulaw (Jet Li) traveling across the multiverse hunting down and killing all his counterparts or other selves until only two of them are left. With each counterpart killed in every universe, the energy and power get divided between the remaining surviving counterparts resulting in them having increased strength, intelligence, and speed. I've mentioned this in a post before that this is similar to how Levi's and Mikasa's superhuman powers came to be.

I absolutely love the plot and story progression in this sci-fi setup, which makes you wonder, what if we actually have alternate personas in other universes (and we just don't know about it because there are people who make sure that we don't know in order to ensure peace and balance)? Plus Jason Statham's character as an ally here was unexpectedly funny!

I also appreciate the romance factor in the movie in the sense that, it is shown as trust, comfort, and care. Doesn't need to have all the kissy scenes or so to show genuine love. And one of Jet Li's character's lines about his love here is just 💖

Jet Li always delivers as well when it comes to action and suspense-filled scenes. Plus just look at the parallels below (The One vs AOT S3):

Using a dead person as a shield then obliterates everyone afterward.

Jet Li's characters in movies are usually brooding, badass, serious, and aloof from people. Plus he is charmingly handsome and rather short in stature IRL too! Yep, Jet Li is a real-life Levi Ackerman 🤣😌

I swear I watched all of these way before I even encountered Attack on Titan. I didn't mean for this to be too long and to include much RivaMika and AOT, but it was fun recollecting the movies and then associating them with my brain rot 😂

Now that I have this list, I realize I tend to gravitate towards action movies and familial ones. Plus most of these movies have that one badass, brooding, serious guy who is insanely skilled and strong, and has a reputation but also soft for their loved ones. Geez I already have a type way before Levi Ackerman bahaha 😂🥰😌

None of these movies are focused on romance but the couple GIFs are intentional bahaha 😏

Tagging: No one, no pressure. 😅