#used to do radio DJ work

[rissynicole]

🎧 <3

Okay, so I decided to do this by going to my “liked” songs on Spotify, which has turned into a repository of every single song I’ve ever added to every playlist I’ve made since 2014. So this thing is massive and is made up of tons of songs I’ve liked over the years.

When I pressed shuffle, I got this version of My Immortal that’s even sadder than the original, somehow

Favorite lines:

“These wounds won’t seem to heal,

This pain is just too real,

There’s just too much that time cannot erase”

[friedbreadwombat]

djs with actual good music taste should get paid more

[jnginlov]

you’re hongjoong’s bias

when you and your group go on idol radio to promote your latest comeback, you don’t anticipate one of the hosts to be completely enraptured by you

⇀ pairing idol!hongjoong x idol!reader

⇀ genre fluff, idol au

⇀ style one shot

⇀ word count 8.6k

⇀ warnings brief mentions of idol life difficulties, food, hugging, kissing, this is basically all fluff

⇀ reactions from the gc “IM GONNA JUMP OFF A MOVING TRAIN” “Ooohhhhhhh Oh Shit” “You love to torment us with this don’t you”

note this is written completely gender neutral, all of your group members use they/them pronouns and have unisex names so you can imagine any type of group, there’s a mention of makeup but all genders wear makeup in the entertainment industry, also here is a little playlist inspired by the group in this fic if you’re real delulu like me

your group, eclipse, had been enjoying your recent promotional period, your fans, lovingly termed starlight, had been working hard to promote your latest comeback and for once your company had been able to do the same. eclipse wasn’t particularly unknown before, you’d already had your first music show win and been recognized at several korean music award shows, but this was certainly your most successful song and mini album yet. you, as the main dancer and oldest, had particularly enjoyed all of the interest from idols that had asked to do the dance challenge with you for tiktok and instagram. it allowed you to meet a lot of people in the industry who you had admired and wanted to get to know before but didn’t know how to approach. of all the idols you had done the challenge with there was certainly one that stuck out in your mind, kim hongjoong, captain of ateez and dj on idol radio.

your group had gone onto the radio show as part of your promotions, something not unusual for you all as you’d been on an episode when youngjae and young k were the hosts, as well as one with joohoney and hyungwon as djs just over a year ago. this time, however, felt very different. maybe it was the nerves from how much more attention your group was receiving that was making you feel a little fidgety in your seat or maybe it was the fact that one of the djs couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

for the first ten minutes of your time at idol radio you’re scared that there’s something on your face, trying to subtly glance at any reflective surface to parse what could be causing someone to pay so much attention to you.

when yunho and hongjoong both seemed to be completely focused on another one of your members, asking something about the recording process for the album, you try to subtly place a hand on the arm of your group’s leader, nuri, sat right next to you.

as you lean away from the microphone in front of you, your leader turns to you, and you breathe out the word “makeup” in hopes that nuri will find whatever smudge caught hongjoong’s sharp eye.

unfortunately, they only shake their head, eyes darting around your face but returning to your own once they don’t find anything. they squeeze your hand gently with their own before turning back to the interview, a subtle gesture to both comfort you and let you know that they will definitely ask why you were concerned later.

as you retract your hand from nuri’s arm, you turn back to face the center of the table, which was conveniently set up so that your and nuri’s seats were directly opposite hongjoong and yunho’s, respectively. meaning that when you turn back to refocus on the matter at hand you instantly notice how hongjoong nervously looks away from you, suddenly finding the side of his co-hosts face extremely interesting.

“so, your latest mini album is called,” yunho begins, looking at the card in front of him to guarantee he doesn’t mispronounce it, “close orbit. this is the end of the orbit series in your concept right?”

nuri nods eagerly next to you before beginning their usual spiel about the members' roles in the creative direction of your group.

often times you’re deemed as the second in command, filling in the gaps your leader may miss, and therefore you’d like to think that you’re pretty good about turning on professional mode no matter the situation. however, from the corner of your eye you see hongjoong’s gaze flitting between you and nuri every few seconds and his behavior has begun to have you a bit nervous, fidgeting with one of the rings your stylist had given you that morning. you desperately try to pay attention to what nuri is talking about but, with the combination of the fact that you already know everything about what they’re saying and the heat that’s creeping up your neck as you try to push the thoughts of hongjoong’s behavior from your mind, you find your own thoughts wandering to hongjoong and his weird behavior.

yunho calls your name suddenly, once nuri is finished, shifting your attention back to the interview at hand and beginning to talk about your involvement in eclipse, aside from simply being a member of the group.

you try not to flick your gaze over to hongjoong too often, who now seems to find the cards he’s surely read over several times before intensely interesting, as yunho acknowledges your skills as main dancer and notes for the audience how involved you are in your group’s choreographic process, which already has a warmth blooming in your chest as you’re aware he’s the main dancer of his own group and you always find recognition from other group’s dancers to feel extra special, but the warmth is quickly transferred to your cheeks only a moment later.

“it’s kind of funny,” yunho starts and you tilt your head in interest as he peaks over to his co-host, “you’re hongjoong’s bias.”

from the look that takes over hongjoong’s face, a mix of shock and embarrassment, and the way he turns quickly to look at yunho with slight anger, you assume that this fact was supposed to stay secret, although you’re partly thankful that you have a seemingly good explanation for why hongjoong hadn’t been able to look away from you since you stepped into the studio.

you’re sure your own shocked expression comes over your face before you’re schooling it quickly, although you hear your maknae, star, sat right next to you, snickering softly under their hand, and you shoot star a quick side eye that seems to remove the humor from the situation for them.

“uh, thank you,” you say with a bow as low as the table in front of you allows, “it means a lot to hear that from a senior like you. thank you for your support.”

“of course,” hongjoong speaks suddenly, mirroring your bow as much as he can before stuttering out a statement about how you’re “so inspiring” and “light up the stage”. his face is getting redder by the second as he digs himself further into a hole but you can feel that your face is heating to match his own.

yunho seems to sense the way he’s pushed the interview off the rails and interrupts to bring attention back to your group entirely and your comeback.

through the next few minutes of the show, you’re noticeably and uncharacteristically distant as you now find yourself to have almost traded positions with hongjoong, subtly staring at him as much as you can manage without drawing immediate attention from your fans or members.

in opposition, hongjoong had now taken to looking at pretty much anything that wasn’t you after yunho had shared his little secret. unfortunately, maybe fortunately, you found that you can barely tear your gaze from the blue haired man across the table.

you were obviously a fan of ateez, being able to appreciate a lot of aspects about their talents and skills, but you’d never really gotten too much into the members themselves, aside from knowing who was who and what they each did. you found that as an idol yourself it could feel weird to try acting like a normal fan of a group, making you almost hyper aware of your own fans and their habits as you would try to focus on just one video that wasn’t related directly to the group’s music or performance.

this had meant that you had no ateez bias, although you knew a decent amount about the members, but now you’re rethinking your whole ideas of being a fan as an idol.

as you think to yourself, you attempt to rationalize the past few minutes, assuming that yunho was just joking around, trying to make fun of his hyung or maybe meaning something different from what your group’s fans meant when they said they biased you. however, every time you’ve managed to start convincing yourself, you’re just reminded of hongjoong’s reaction in the moment his member had said something.

your spiraling thoughts are only serving to distract you and suddenly, feeling a hand on your shoulder to bring you back to reality, you realize that they had started playing one of the songs from your album, letting you and your members grab snacks and wave to the fans through the window. the member with their hand on your shoulder, one of your best friends in the group, eunjae, looks at you with a mix of worry and bemusement, although you hear the slight smirk they wear in their voice as they ask if you’re okay.

you wave eunjae off before you head over to the window, not feeling particularly hungry, and hope that maybe seeing your fans will help to ground you, just as they always do.

as you’re waving through the window at several people with headbands of your and your member’s names you feel a presence beside you, much larger than any of your members. you turn to find yunho near you, not crowding you but obviously intentionally in your space, most likely to draw your attention without suspicion.

“sorry about that,” he says as you turn to him and he gestures toward the snack cart closer to the corner.

you know what he’s doing, trying to make it seem like you two are just talking about the food so as to not make fans question your interaction and so you follow him to the snack cart as you ask, trying not to show any of the question on your face, “about what?”

“making you uncomfortable,” he supplies. “hongjoong had asked me not to say anything but i didn’t think about the fact that he may have been asking that for your comfort rather than his own” yunho says in barely a whisper and you can see a light blush dusting his cheeks.

you’re thankful that your members had basically switched with you, greeting fans after clearing away from the snacks.

“don’t worry,” you reassure. “i'm not uncomfortable, it was more shocking than anything” you tell him, and as you say it you realize it’s the truth.

as an idol you often have to sacrifice your comfort for others but in this moment you aren’t saying it out of necessity but as the truth, and when you glance behind you at hongjoong, who’s intently avoiding all of your members as he also waves to the atiny that are mixed in with your fans, you feel something sparkle in the pit of your stomach. it’s a pleasant feeling, something reminiscent of admiration but more complex, deeper.

you’re not afraid to admit to yourself that hongjoong is attractive, undeniably handsome and, from everything you’d heard, genuinely nice to those around him. you could admire him as a leader and creative, knowing how much responsibility he had and that he still managed to enjoy what he did, but, with both of you working in the industry, dating could be next to impossible.

in all honesty, you’re not sure the last time you’d even had time to explore any sort of romantic interest in anyone, and maybe you were simply deprived of that experience so your brain was running wild with even the slightest exploration of thought. however your company had no dating ban and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to venture into that side of a normal life.

bringing you back to the present moment, yunho lets out a heavy breath and hands you a random piece of candy off the cart that you accept with a slight bow, convincing everyone that might be watching that you were talking about the snacks the whole time.

soon after your interaction concludes, everyone is quick to gather back around the table, taking your seats as your song fades out in the background. the next segment goes smoothly, yunho and hongjoong leading your group in a little game about how much your members know each other.

throughout the game you can’t help but sneak glances at hongjoong, your mind still working through the thoughts you’d had during the break. he appears to be trying hard to not notice you looking at him, but he manages to slip up occasionally and you try to send him a warm, if not slightly teasing, grin each time your eyes connect.

though your original intention with the gesture wasn’t to fluster the man, you find the way he reacts each time to be endearing, the blush returning to his cheeks and even starting to spread up to his ears. every time your gazes meet you feel that same tingle in your stomach begin to spread up to your chest, his expression each time feeding it, and you start to find a bit of comfort in that sensation as you feel like you’re getting to admire hongjoong who you’d been avoiding at the beginning of the show.

you’re starting to have a bit too much fun with this little game you made for yourself when yunho introduces another one of the songs from your group’s album and it starts to fade in, bringing an end to your antics.

this time, as the break starts, you intentionally take a moment before standing, pretending to stretch in your seat and standing slowly as you see hongjoong moving toward the fans out of the corner of your eye. you, as subtly as you can, move toward the fans and in the general direction of hongjoong, trying to get the opportunity to talk to him since he had been shying away from speaking to you ever since yunho’s little slip up. he seems too distracted by an atiny that’s mouthing something to him through the window to notice how close you manage to get.

once you’re sufficiently within speaking range, but not too close, always careful of fan suspicion when you’re in the presence of other idols, you try to casually greet him with a simple “hi” but you’re unprepared for the way he quickly flips around to face you, looking almost like a deer in headlights.

you’re both a bit stuck, just staring at each other before you hear a very obvious fake cough coming from both yunho and nuri that seems to snap you out of it and you each try to play it off with giggles and laughs, mostly for the camera and fans that had been intently tuned in to the strange interaction between the two of you.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you say as you move toward the window, pretending like it had been your intention the whole time to simply say hi to fans once again.

“oh no, uhm, i’m sorry, i don’t know why i reacted like that,” he answers shakily with a nervous chuckle and turns back to the fans as well.

for a moment you both just wave out at the fans, genuinely finding interest in those that had come to support you. after what you deem to be enough time of interaction you finally speak up.

“i’m not uncomfortable, by the way,” you mention casually, hoping hongjoong understands what you mean.

“oh, really?” he sound’s surprised, and you peak out of the corner of your eye to see that he’s trying to hold back the surprise from showing on his face.

“yeah,” you admit. “i’m actually flattered,” you add, turning to hongjoong with a soft smile before you move to the snack cart.

you miss the way his shoulders seem to visibly relax and the grin that spreads onto his face as you leave. fan’s will chalk it up to the fact that he was relieved to be a further distance from you, hongjoong being know to keep his space from the idols that come on as guests, but yunho is quick to spot that it looks more like the expression his captain wears after a satisfying performance or successful interview.

your break is quick to wrap up after that, this song being shorter than the one they’d played earlier, and you’re all back to your seats. you start to readjust in your seat, getting comfortable for the next portion of the show, until you’re passed a head mic and remember that you’re going to teach, along with another one of your members, insoo, yunho and hongjoong the point choreography from your title track.

you’re excited to be back in your element, almost forgetting everything that had happened with hongjoong as you and your member run through the choreography to demonstrate before you’ll teach the boys.

the choreography is nothing too difficult, as your company is always sure to remind you that easier point choreo is more marketable, but it involves a great deal of interaction between you and your member, them starting the section standing directly in front of you, and you manipulate them until they have to squat in front of you.

yunho is quick to decide that he will do your part, claiming that because you’re both main dancers it makes sense as well as sighting the height difference, although the height difference between you and insoo is almost negligible compared to yunho and hongjoong’s height difference, but hongjoong doesn’t put up a fight, the gaze he’d had on you at the beginning of the schedule returning with a different undertone, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

the choreography wasn’t particularly sexy, your group not one to lean too heavily into those kinds of concepts, but it was certainly powerful and this particular song made you feel confident, considering you got to be center for the point.

you blame hongjoong’s shift on your own perception, but his gaze certainly reignites the buzz in your stomach, now fully formed into butterflies whose wings brush against the inside of your ribs, longing to be released.

you try to shake it off and step into teaching mode, familiar comfort seeping into you as you take on the most usual role for yourself. you quickly teach yunho your part, and as expected he catches on quickly, and insoo tries to demonstrate what hongjoong should do as best they can, although their part is hard to describe as insoo often goes off of your energy and cues.

when he stumbles out of the ending squat to fall on his butt all three of you that are standing are quick to rush over to him but he just chuckles in slight embarrassment before picking himself up and you all laugh together.

“hm what about you try it with him and i can do it with yunho,” insoo suggests quickly, looking like they just thought of the best solution to hongjoong’s learning difficulties.

you’re a little surprised but agree nonetheless as yunho adds that he’s sure his hyung would be fine with that, but once hongjoong is standing right in front of you it’s not so much hongjoong you’re worried about.

you try to back up a bit, trying to give yourself a bit of distance between you two, but are quick to realize that the choreography won’t work if you’re any further apart and so just as you take a step toward the man in front of you he also takes one into you, realizing that you had both started to get too close to the table now behind him.

your hands are quick to come up to his chest before you can fully fall into him and you jump back as quickly as you can, pulling your hands away as though he burned you.

the same look of shock as when you’d come up behind him during the break is present on hongjoong’s face, and he’s glad there are no cameras that face him right now to see it, but all you can pay attention to is the warmth that you had felt on your palms at the contact between you two.

the whole interaction had felt to you like it was minutes long but in reality it was barely a couple seconds, and you’re once again trying to slip back into the dance teacher role as well as you can when you’re so acutely aware of how close hongjoong is to you in this moment. you can just smell the fading cologne he’d applied earlier in the day, a mix of linen and leather that feels like it turns your brain to mush as you try to remember what you were supposed to be doing with him standing in front of you like this in the first place.

his surprise melts to a look of concern as he sees you shake your head, hoping to clear your thoughts as though they were being physically blocked by all your senses screaming hongjoong.

“so you start like this,” you supply quickly, trying to ignore the way hongjoong won’t drop the worried expression from his face.

you need to move quickly, the man in front of you is starting to make you feel dizzy and you aren’t sure your company, or your members, would enjoy you passing out for seemingly no reason while on a live program.

normally when you dance this part, you make full contact with your member but you can’t bring yourself to touch hongjoong completely, partially fearing you won’t want to let go once you do. instead you ghost your hands along the places you might normally drag them and float over the places you might normally grab.

as you move him slowly into the final positioning you’re realizing that it may have been more torturous to avoid touching him then to just give in to your desire to connect with him, every time your skin makes the lightest contact sending a jolt up through your arms and your breath catching in your throat, if for a moment.

“so that’s it,” you nod, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel and hongjoong looks up at you almost expectantly. you’re waiting for him to move, looking back down at him, and you feel his gaze almost peering through you, like he can see every deep breath you’re taking to try to calm your heart, like he knows exactly how you’ve felt for the past few minutes as you tried to teach him the movement, like he knows exactly what he does to you.

it’s kind of funny how you could feel so small compared to a man that you’re currently looking down on but it’s kim hongjoong who’s looking back up at you, in your clouded brain it seems to make sense.

you’re not sure who speaks up but you hear yunho and insoo moving next to you, although the dull ringing in your ears hasn’t fully subsided. you feel yourself, as though in a daze, move away from hongjoong, something you’re not actually sure you even want to do but your body has decided for you.

as insoo reclaims their place in front of you, you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’d had that entire encounter with hongjoong in front of, not just your friends, but your fans, your managers, and several live cameras. you feel redness creeping up to consume almost your entire face and you’re glad insoo is blocking you. they give you a slight look of concern and you just clear your throat, pushing the thoughts of hongjoong down until they meet the butterflies in the pit of your stomach, taking a breath to urge them to calm down as well.

the rest of idol radio seems to pass in a blur. you’re even more distant than when you were lost in your thoughts earlier, although this time it seems as though your mind is absolutely blank. if you had wanted it to shut up before, now you’re wishing for it to just go, the image of hongjoong squatting in front of you the only thing you can seem to focus on.

you don’t fully come back to your senses until you’re sat in the car that’s set to take you, and your members, back to your dorm, your schedules for the day complete, and although you thought that distance may have aided your situation you were certainly wrong. your mind has taken to replaying the moment you’d shared with him over and over, not sparing a single detail and you feel as though you’re reliving the interaction again as you practically sense the heat radiating from his skin under your fingertips.

“are you, like, good?” star asks, placed once again right next to you. you look at them with what you hope is a convincing smile as you nod gently, before turning back to watch seoul pass in a blur through the window.

that night, you and your members, seven in total, gather to eat the takeout your manager had ordered as congratulations on a good day of promotions and suddenly you feel several pairs of eyes on you.

“what?” you ask, looking between all the members that weren’t currently too focused on their food.

“what was that between you and hongjoong?” insoo asks with a smirk, noddles almost forgotten on their plate.

“what was what?” you ask, trying to will the blush that creeps up your neck away.

insoo rolls their eyes in response, seeing right through your act and very clearly remembering what they had seen when they were stood right in front of you.

“y/n’s crushing on hongjoong,” star sings cheerily before someone’s foot, likely eunjae’s, makes contact with their shin under the table and they hiss.

you scoff at the statement, trying to play dumb to the way all your members were clearly seeing through you. “i do not,” you state indignantly, taking a big bite of your food as you glare at star.

“whatever you say,” star shrugs, a teasing smirk on their face.

luckily the conversation is quick to shift away from you and you’re able to enjoy your meal without any more interrogation.

later that night, as you prepare for bed, you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door and open it to find nuri.

“hey, what’s up?” you ask, noticing they’re already dressed for bed.

“here,” they say, holding a piece of paper out which you take from their hand with some hesitancy.

“thanks?” you state, although it’s more of a question as you wonder what’s on the slip of paper now in your possession.

“hongjoong’s kakao id,” they say with a nod toward the paper and you blush, clearing your throat quickly. “it’s fine to have a crush by the way,” they continue and your face only grows warmer. “i’d just appreciate it if you'd tell me if you end up dating. easier for me to help.”

you don’t say anything as you just nod your head in understanding, closing your door quickly and pressing your face into your hands in embarrassment.

you place the slip onto your desk, glad in moments like these that you got the only solo room, and debate about adding him. i mean, you hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to each other, but what could really be the worst that could happen?

you try not to think about how nuri got his id, wondering if maybe they already knew each other and praying they hadn’t asked him for it just for you today, as you add him on your kakaotalk, tossing around ideas of opening messages. eventually you settle on a simple “hi, this is y/n” and send it quickly before you can overthink.

you don’t expect a reply immediately, noting how late it is, but almost as soon as you lock your phone the screen is lighting up with a message back.

hongjoong: hi

hongjoong: i wasn’t sure you were actually going to text me

hongjoong: i mean i know you told me you weren’t uncomfortable but still

a smile stretches across your lips as you realize hongjoong gave his id to nuri to give to you specifically and you scold yourself for being so out of it that he couldn’t give it to you directly.

you: i meant it when i said i was flattered

you: it’s a huge compliment to be admired by someone like you

you try to err on the side of caution. maybe he just wanted to talk to you about work, music and dance, so you tried not to be too informal, ateez and hongjoong being your senior. although you did try to hint that you were interested past a professional, and even platonic, relationship, but it had certainly been a while since you’d flirted with anyone, outside of fan service.

hongjoong: i wanted to ask you something

you: ask away

hongjoong: we have a new song coming out soon and i wondered if you’d be interested in doing the dance challenge for it

hongjoong: with me

you could feel the butterflies awaken inside of you once more, excited at the prospect of being able to see him again and the fact that he asked you specifically about doing the challenge.

you: i’d love to

you: just text me

with your agreement you both wrap up the conversation, bidding each other good night, and you go to bed with your thoughts full of hongjoong and stomach full of butterflies.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the rest of your own promotional period flies by, successful and rewarding as the support from your fans results in several music show wins and lots of recognition from all over the world. the whole time you try to focus more on work than your recently budding friendship with the leader of ateez, but it’s hard when you find yourself just as excited to end your day and finally be able to message him as you do when you can see your fans or perform. your members have certainly noticed a change in your demeanor, eager to shut yourself in your room to be alone, and some fans have commented about how happy you’ve seemed lately. luckily, your interaction from idol radio is barely recognized, only a few of the usual shippers making theories about your or hongjoong’s behavior that other fans are quick to brush off as a reach.

hongjoong: happy last day of promotions! i hope your schedules go well today

he doesn’t normally text you in the morning but you’d been telling him the night before about it being your last day to promote your comeback and so you check the timestamp on the message to find it was sent around 3am, probably when he managed to actually get to bed considering he’d told you he was working in the studio on ateez’s next comeback.

you shoot him a thank you text back, doubting he’ll see it until he wakes up a little later in the day, and get ready to head out for your schedule.

you were performing on the show again today, a music show that one of hongjoong’s members, yeosang, was an mc on. you didn’t even think much of the fact as you arrived and got ready with your styling team, having interacted with yeosang as an mc during this promotional period already. although as you sat in the hair and makeup chair, ready for the usual routine, a light knock sounded against the door of your dressing room.

after a quick check that everyone was decent, nuri approached the door. you couldn’t see who was on the other side, nuri discussing something with them and bowing as you assume the other person handed them a plastic bag.

you were slightly confused, none of your members or staff having ordered delivery, as nuri closed the door, taking a peek into the plastic bag before heading in your direction.

“here,” they said as they placed the bag onto your lap and you gave them a questioning glance.

“what’s this?”

“from yeosang who said it’s from a friend,” they explain with a wink and you try not to blush at the implication.

nuri walks away without saying anything else and you glance into the bag, seeing a few of the snacks you’d mentioned craving to hongjoong just last night. you push around the items and find a little note, similar to that which had held his id on it, and open it in the bag to avoid suspicion from those around you.

i know how hard it can be to eat during schedules so i hope this can help. good luck today, text me when you win

you try to ignore the way your heart picks up at the thought of him caring this much for you but it’s hard when you know that you’re already so infatuated with him. his confidence in you and your group was also just so heartwarming, something that was certainly making you fall deeper for the man you’d so recently grown attached to.

you munch on the gift as your hair gets styled, a smile unable to leave your face as you debate texting him to thank him. unfortunately you don’t get a chance as you’re thrown into the whirlwind of performing and preparing for a potential encore stage, your group loving to do silly little things for starlight whenever you win.

of course, like most times, hongjoong is right and your group wins for the final time this comeback, celebrating on stage with your fans and members. throughout your encore, your mind drifts to hongjoong, how you can text him and celebrate together.

as soon as all of your members arrive to your dorm, shoes discarded in the entranceway and takeout being served on the table, there’s a sudden ring of the doorbell and half of you freeze. the other half continue on with their tasks as nuri offers to get the door, handing off the serving task to insoo who is more than happy to take responsibility.

“y/n!” nuri calls from the door only a moment later and a few of your members give you a confused look as you shrug and make your way to your leader.

“yeah?” you ask as you approach, turning the corner to see two bouquets, not too large but very beautiful, in nuri’s grasp, the front door closing as you assume the delivery driver leaves.

“this is for you,” nuri says with a grin and you don’t keep the surprise from your features as they hand you the smaller of the two pieces, noting that they are your favorite flowers and spotting the little card in the center.

y/n,

congratulations on your win today. you always look so beautiful when you dance.

hj <3

you don’t try to hide the blush that blooms over your cheeks, your mind hyper focused on the little heart at the end of the message, and turn to nuri.

“what does that one say?” you ask, gesturing to the other bouquet that contains a mix of flowers with your group’s official colors.

nuri turns the bunch to you so that you can read the card.

eclipse,

congratulations on a successful comeback,

ateez

you nod as you turn back to the flowers in your hands, nuri pushing past you to join the other members in the kitchen. you can hear them explain who the flowers are from and mentally thank nuri when they don’t mention your personal bunch.

you manage to sneak the flowers to your room before you head back out to the table for dinner, shooting hongjoong a picture and a quick thank you.

hongjoong: i’m glad you like them

hongjoong: and i meant it, you looked breathtaking today

you suppress your smile as you read his response, trying not to catch the attention of any of your members, but you glance up to see nuri looking at you with a knowing, if not approving, smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’ve been following ateez a little more closely now, their newest comeback, bouncy, releasing just last week and doing amazingly on the charts. you’d been sending hongjoong little things like snacks, coffee, and meals to keep him motivated and show your support and he’d been showing his appreciation by sending you pictures of him eating or just selfies of him during schedules.

you were certain that your relationship was headed in a more romantic direction as you both became more bold in your texts. you’d also begun video calling when you were able, sometimes just doing your own things while you were on a call together.

you were eager to possibly try taking the next step and actually go out on a date but with ateez still in the midst of promotion you understood that hongjoong’s free time was limited. so you left it up to him, not pressuring hongjoong by asking him out or even alluding to wanting to date.

“do you know the challenge or do you want me to teach you?” hongjoong had asked one night when you were on video call.

he’d brought up your promise from months ago to do the challenge and you assured him that you were still interested.

“i mean i sort of know it just from watching it a bunch, but if you want to teach me i’m not opposed,” you said with a cheeky shrug and hongjoong grinned.

“i don’t have to teach you babe,” he says with a light chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine.

that was another thing that had started recently, the pet names. hongjoong had accidentally referred to you as “babe” over text one time, rushing to apologize when you had taken just a second too long to respond, but you assured him that you weren’t upset just trying to be able to actually think again when the name had short circuited your brain.

“fine,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “i want you to teach me,” you admit with a slight wine. “there, happy?”

he chuckles again with a nod and an “okay” before you’re setting up the best day for you to meet at the kq company building, having to end the call soon after so that he can actually get some sleep.

the next few days have you on edge as you anticipate being able to see hongjoong in person for the first time since your appearance on idol radio. you even plan your outfit a day in advance, feeling almost like you’re going on a first date as you ensure your hair and makeup are perfect.

“have fun,” nuri says with a knowing wink as you leave your dorm and you don’t give them your normal embarrassed look, too focused on the excitement of seeing hongjoong.

you arrive at the kq building right on time, a staff member greeting you in the lobby and taking you to the practice room where you’ll be doing the challenge. you’d seen this same room plenty before on video, ateez dance practices being one of the few contents you’d watched before getting to know hongjoong.

“he should be here in a second,” the staff says, glancing at her phone, and you nod with a grin.

“its fine,” you assure. “thank you.”

just as you start to observe the room a little more, looking around and comparing it to your own practice room, the door opens and hongjoong enters.

even though you’d seen him on your screen almost everyday for the past week, nothing can compare to the way he looks in person, especially since he’d changed his look. atiny had been going crazy over his newly silver hair and you were no different, texting him how much you loved it as soon as you found out.

“hi,” he says with a smile as soon as he spots you.

you reach out your hand and repeat his greeting, bowing as you shake hands to imitate a sense of formality in front of the staff member.

you don’t want to let go of his hand but you pull away anyway, taking a step back to put some distance between you two and hoping to calm the urge that bubbles in your chest to take him into your arms.

“so, would you like for me to teach you the challenge?” he asks and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laugh that builds in your throat at the question, knowing you’d already asked him to teach it to you a few days ago.

“yes please,” you nod and hongjoong gestures so that you can move toward the mirror.

honestly, the choreography is pretty easy to pick up, especially since you’ve watched it so many times already, but you relish in the way hongjoong watches you and decide to just mess around with him a little. it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions you already knew the answer to right?

“so, is it here or out here?” you ask with an innocent quirk of your brow, placing your left hand out, palm flat and moving it back and forth between two positions.

you see hongjoong’s eyes narrow just slightly, as he had clearly seen you get it right the first time, and you know he’s picking up on your little game. his eyes flick to the staff member in the room, noting that she’s on her phone in the corner, looking away, before he takes a step toward you.

instead of just answering your question he reaches around you, keeping his body on your right and wrapping his left arm around your back to grasp your elbow. he moves your arm into the proper place and you feel his other hand place itself on your waist. as you try to focus on anything but the way his fingers press into your skin he leans his head down slightly, enough so that you can feel his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and across your cheek.

his proximity has your heart pounding and you almost hope he can hear it, wanting him to know that what he’s doing is working. you want him to know that this is exactly what you wanted, that you wish this is how close you could have him all the time.

“right here,” he says, barely a whisper, and just as you start to lean into him, longing to be completely consumed by his warmth, he steps away and his presence is replaced by the cool air that blows through the vent above you.

you clear your throat as you try to shake away the lingering warmth his touch left against your skin and slow your heartbeat as you go back to rehearsing the movements, for real this time.

you try to ignore the smirk that paints his face as he watches you practicing, a blush painting your own cheeks that starts to match his the longer he stares.

“okay, i think i got it,” you say after a few more rounds of practice. “what do you want to do for the outro?” you ask. “or do you just want to end it after the ‘fly’?”

you turn to hongjoong who looks around the room in thought.

“we could do the ending pose from moonbeam,” he suggests, referring to the title track you’d been promoting on idol radio, and you’re taken aback for a moment.

you’re not so much shocked that he would suggest something to do with your group but that he would choose that pose specifically. it would normally involve you and eclipse’s main vocalist, gam, standing while everyone else sat around you, leaning on each other. you and gam would be staring just past each other as your right arms were tangled in front of you in a sort of love shot position.

“oh, sure,” you say taking a moment to picture you and hongjoong in that position and your blush darkens. “i guess.”

“we don’t have to,” he says, sensing your hesitation. “we can do something else.”

you shake your head as you reassure him, “no, no, it’s fine.”

hongjoong just nods and you run through the challenge once more, practicing the final pose as well and trying to not let the proximity that the pose forces you into affect your face, of course you have no control over how it affects your heart and mind.

“great,” he says, mostly to himself, before calling over the staff member who directs you where to stand and prepares the shot.

the shooting of the challenge itself goes well, you both switching easily into professional mode even if you can see his eyes watching you through the mirror the whole time. you do a few takes, allowing the company to pick whichever they deem best, before you’re done and thanking hongjoong and the staff member for their time.

“oh,” hongjoong perks up before you can begin to head out. “i got you a thank you gift for doing the challenge but i left it in my studio.” he turns to the staff member and asks, “would you mind going to grab it?”

she nods before making her way out of the room, leaving you and hongjoong alone.

your eyes follow her as she leaves but before you can even turn back to hongjoong he’s pulled you into a hug, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he looks into your eyes.

“hi,” he greets with a chuckle, absolutely beaming as you snake your hands around his shoulders.

you giggle in response, your expression mirroring his own, as you finally get to see him how you wish you had for the entire time you’d been in his presence.

“i’ve been waiting to do this for the last half hour,” he says, practically reading your mind.

“so do you actually have a thank you gift or was that just an excuse?” you ask with a tick of your head to the door where the staff member had disappeared.

he looks almost offended as you ask, a humorous disbelief shining in his eyes. “of course i have a gift,” he says and you can hear a slight whine lacing his tone.

“of course,” you say with a chuckle and a shake of your head.

“i would’ve invited you to lunch but the staff would’ve been suspicious,” he adds, “so this is the next best option.”

“i can feed myself you know,” you joke, truly more than happy to have hongjoong buy you meals.

“not if i can help it,” he insists, wrapping his arms tighter and pulling you closer.

you don’t fight against him, your chests now pressed together as you simply wade in the comfort that surrounds you both.

you debate about leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel the soft skin against your lips, but you don’t. instead you let your cheek fall to his shoulder, resting your head against him and letting the scent of his cologne wash over you.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” hongjoong asks, one of his hands starting to trace along your spine, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“mm,” you hum in thought as you try to remember your schedule. “we have shooting until five and then eunjae wants to watch a new movie,” you say before lifting your head from his shoulder. “why?”

he lets out a breath and his hand comes to a stop on your back, both of his hands gently holding either side of your waist. the smile he gives you seems nervous now, not quite reaching his eyes.

“i wanted to ask if you’d like to get dinner with me tomorrow night,” he explains with a gentle squeeze of your hips. “but if you’re busy we can do it a different night.”

you shake your head quickly, face red and smile as wide as your lips can manage. “eunjae can wait one more day for that movie,” you giggle and watch as his own smile grows.

his hands move from your waist and you start to pull your own arms away when his palms are suddenly on your cheeks, holding your face, and your own hands fly up to cup his. neither of you speak as you glide your hands down to wrap your fingers around his wrist gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his eyes flick between your own.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, trying to see any form of discomfort that might appear on your expression.

“yes,” you respond and before you even finish he’s bringing you into him, lips pressing against your own as softly as he can.

it barely lasts a second before he’s pulling away, his eyes once again searching your own for any hint as to how you’re feeling.

“again?” he asks with a smirk when he notices your lips still puckered and chasing his.

he doesn’t wait for your response this time, diving back into you with an eagerness that challenges your own.

his lips move in sync with yours, one of his hands shifting to the side of your neck and the pads of his fingers pressing into the skin there, sending a shiver down your spine that you're sure he notices by the way you feel him smile against your lips. hongjoong hums gently, the sound vibrating from his own chest to yours and causing you to melt into him further.

you try to pour all of your appreciation for him into the kiss, desperately grasping onto his biceps like he might just vanish at any moment. you hope that he can understand just what you’re trying to tell him, that in this moment, and every moment you’ve shared, he’s made you feel normal. when you were with him, talking to him, you weren’t an idol and neither was he, you were both just you, human and flawed, and in love.

he pulls away after a moment more, placing a few light pecks against your lips before separating completely, and you try to chase his lips again but his hold on your cheek keeps you in place. instead, he presses his forehead against your own, eyes closed as he focuses on steadying his breathing while you flit your gaze around his face, trying to commit each feature to memory.

after what feels like an hour of just existing in the comfortable silence that has engulfed you both, hongjoong pulls away from you, his eyes opening slowly as his hands return to your waist, your own grip on his arms loosening.

“so tomorrow?” he asks, biting his lip before you bring your thumb up to pull the flesh from between his teeth and he places a gentle peck against your finger.

“it’s a date,” you confirm, leaning in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

he smiles and says, “i’ll text you,” before he takes a few steps back, forcing you both to separate and you immediately miss him even though he’s still stood right in front of you.

only a moment later the staff member from earlier is stepping back into the room, carrying a bag of your favorite delivery food and making a beeline to you.

you bow in thanks when she hands it to you before doing the same to hongjoong, showing your formal appreciation for the gesture, and the staff member is offering to guide you out of the building.

you’re quick to bid hongjoong goodbye, worrying that you might never leave him unless you go now, and the staff leads you back out the way you came in.

as soon as you make it back to your dorm you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, a text from hongjoong lighting up the screen.

hj<3: can i officially say i’m dating my bias?

↼ ateez masterlist

note this started as delusional texts in the group chat based on the specific instagram photos in the header and turned into this

tell me your thoughts

[memento-rory]

reader going on chuckle sandwich with poly!schlatt & ted…. thoughts?

I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS. (this is literally my before bed scenario i act out in my head as i drift off to sleep.)

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: your relationship w/ted & schlatt has just gone public. this got really silly really fast but ted and schlatt are silly guys so i think it works.

the podcast opens up with ted and schlatt already arguing about something, and you try to get a word in but they’re just talking over each other at this point. you take your headphones off, walking off screen, returning with an air horn and pushing the button, letting it rip. ted and schlatt both flinch, and ted turns to his camera.

“welcome to chuckle sandwich.”

after the intro, you’re leaning real close to your mic, interrupting ted before he can get another word out. “hey, chucklers.” you murmur with a grin, your voice low and smooth, like a cheesy radio host. “i’m your host (y/n), here with my two favorite boys and schlatt.” you tease, peeking over at schlatt’s face on your screen.

“no way we just started the podcast and you’re already hijacking it.” ted laughs, “that’s fuckin’ craaazy.”

“and rude.” schlatt pipes up, “you’re being incredibly rude right now.”

“and what are you gonna do about it?” you ask. both ted and schlatt’s eyebrows shoot up, and you wiggle your own, earning a laugh from ted.

“guys, here with us today, you know her, you love her, we love her, everyone loves her. it’s (y/n).” ted introduces you for real, and you take another opportunity to lean into your mic, radio host voice on once again.

“hey all you chuckle fucks, it’s me, your favorite dj, here to keep you entertained on your morning drive at five.”

“what is this persona you’re putting on right now?” ted’s giggling as he asks. “who is that?”

“it’s kinda sexy,” schlatt muses, and you put your lips right up against your mic.

“yeah? this doin’ somethin’ for ya?” you tease. “if you’re thinking about taking the 405 today, think again. traffic is backed up for miles with no sign of clearing up any time soon.”

“oh yeah,” schlatt fake moans as closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair, making himself comfortable, “do the weather next.”

“okaaaay,” tucker drawls, holding back an exasperated chuckle, “enough of that. we’ve got some important shit to get through today, yeah?”

ted switches gears then, taking control of the conversation, “yeah, so… some of you may have seen a bit of a hard launch on (y/n)’s instagram today. we’re filming this a couple of days in advance but i can only imagine some of you are freaking out about this.”

“some of you freaks probably feel pretty vindicated right now.” schlatt chimes in, and you nod along. “yeah, i know some people have already kind of clocked it.” you add.

“this is the only time we’re going to, like, actually address it.” ted starts, leaning toward his mic, doing that goofy voice he always does, “we’re dating. all of us — well, not tucker, obviously — are together. don’t be weird about it, okay?”

“yeah, don’t think about us all makin’ out hard or anything, you fuckin’ weirdos.” schlatt says, immediately laughing at his own statement as ted breathes out a sigh.

“i’m thinking about it right now.” you murmur into the mic, “i’m thinking about it hard.”

“this was a bad idea.” tucker says, but he’s chuckling a little.

“no, it wasn’t.” ted says pointedly, “guys, can you rein it in, please?”

“anything for you, teddy.” you say, batting your eyelashes, earning a snort from schlatt.

“anyway,” ted tries to move on, “we’re all taken, we’re all asking you be respectful about it, and we’ll share what we want to share when we want to share it.”

“kind of like how we share each other.”

“schlatt!”

[libraford]

Okay so here's the rundown of everything that happened with the radio station because omg is it some drama.

In the 90's, there were a lot more independently-run radio stations. There wasn't IHeartRadio and there wasn't SiriusFM or JackFM. A dude could just have a radio station frequency and start a radio station as long as they complied with FCC regulations. And one of these radio stations in Columbus was an alternative station called CD101.

That frequency was sold to a classical station, which is fine because the exchange was friendly. And then the station moved to a different frequency, CD102.5.

So I know it may seem like radio DJ's are just weirdos with microphones and that's just not true- they are TALENTED weirdos with a microphone. You have to be personable, you have to know about the music you're playing, you have to be enthusiastic. And this station was pretty good about programming- they played local music, they played deep cuts, they played weird shit. There were programs for oddball and punk and goth music. They ran charities, they were at local festivals, they were in parades. Their radio station even had a small concert venue attached to it and they would invite visiting musicians to play. Like it really was about community.

But.

Radio stations are expensive, and they get more expensive every year, and in 2020 they were unable to renew their FCC license.

And then a couple months later, they were back again under CD 92.9. A radio station rented out the frequency to them and they were able to get back on the air. It was like nothing ever happened.

I'm not going to know what happened between the owner the frequency (Mark) and the owner of the station (Randy) because there's a lot of people talking about Mark overcharging on rent and Randy being late or short on payments.

An agreement was drawn up to have Randy buy the frequency over a period of (I think) 5 years. But the price was high and the terms of termination were brutal (if he was even one day late on a payment, it constituted termination of the contract). And Randy found those terms to be unreasonable.

So, they announced that the radio station would be going off the air February 1, 2024. And we're all pretty upset! Like, not to be like 'this station saved my life,' but this was a pretty consistent source of event news for me and its how I learned about a lot of concerts and artists. They played one of my friend's bands pretty often and its like 'hell yeah, I know that flutist!'

The DJs of CD92.9 said their good-byes on Facebook.

Meanwhile...

The new DJ of the new station announced that it was always his destiny run the station, and that the new station would be More local music, More deep cuts, More weird shit- and No Billie Eilish. "Out with the old, in with the new."

On one of the old DJ's good-bye posts, the new DJ tried to recruit him to the new station.

"Really? You're trying to poach me on my good-bye post?"

Mark makes a statement that the station will be committed to 'continuing the legacy of CD92.9' and will be using the same programming, the same music, the same DJ's.

Randy says 'the fuck it will, that wasn't the deal' and files a C&D. The DJ's are allowed to work for the new station if they so please, but the new station is not going to inherit shit. They cannot use the same programming, their staff, or any of the thousands of recordings they've use in the past 30 years. Any branding or attempt to brand as similar to CD92.9 is a breach of contract.

A facebook group formed around the support of CD 92.9. How to help, how to get their online stream onto your phone, upcoming events, sponsors to support, and a healthy amount of bitching. Admittedly, some of the posts were REAL stretches- like... I'm sorry darling, I know you want it to happen, but you are NOT going to get them on copyright infringement because their red X logo looks kind of like a similar red X logo from a radio station in Milwaukee.

CD92.9 goes down, 93X goes up.

He does play some more uncommon music, sure. But he doesn't announce who the artist is so its kind of like... what's the point in that? If you just play a local band, but we don't know who the local band is, how are we going to go to their concerts? He'd also talk smack about some bands and its like... don't? You're a public face now.

And then there's the radio edits, which he chose not to play on occasion, so the radio was full of f-bombs. FCC violation.

And as a DJ, simply not charismatic. Like I realize he's not Blorbo from my radio, but like I said- DJing is a skill.

So I just didn't listen. It wasn't worth my time to try. I found a different, less cool station to listen to in the car and I listened to the stream at home.

The mood of the facebook group shifted more towards support for the sponsors, events planned around 92.9, news about who is leaving and who is staying and we just kind of let 93X exist.

The promise of 'no Billie Eilish' fell through pretty quickly. Their music selection dropped to the usual 'alternative music' packet of Imagine Dragons and Twenty-One Pilots. And eventually...

They went off the air. After one month of airtime, it is now an oldies station.

93X DJ said 'well, congratulations you got what you wanted.' Which is half right. We wanted them to tank and our old station to succeed. We're still hopeful about the second part.

The Dispatch ran an article about the short-lived station. Ends with:

So just for like... summary-

Ya'll took over the station with a committed listener base, claimed that you'd be just continuing business as usual, tried to poach their talent, hired someone with no problem talking shit, and when your station failed...

... you want to blame a Facebook Group?

Are you a child?

Anyways, if you'd like to hear an alternative rock station in Columbus that's just doing their best, here's a link to the stream!

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol references, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 2.5k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 1

April 1994

“So, all votes are in?” Katie asked. Everyone in the room nodded, and you sat forward in your seat.

The current General Manager of the radio station, Katie, ran a tight ship. Still, nobody could deny that they were sad to see her leaving - graduation was claiming too many people this year. She glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses.

General Manager would be read first, you knew that - it was the closest position the station had to President, the person who ran the whole thing. And after the last three years, all signs pointed to Katie's successor being you. Most people didn’t want the job - it was pretty thankless, all on a volunteer basis, and the election is often more of a formality to the most obvious person. But, you were passionate about the radio station - you always had been. Running it wouldn’t be easy, but you knew you were the right person to do it.

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your favorite place, your niche. There’s nothing you loved more than spinning some records on-the-air, hanging out in the station lounge, and being a part of something. It’s where you’ve made your friends, easily able to bond over your love of music, making it your safe space when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

You could feel Steve Harrington’s eyes on you from where he sat across the room. You pointedly ignored him, your clasped fingers growing clammy with anticipation.

“Drumroll, everyone!” she said, resulting in a cacophony of pats against legs, tables, or any available surface. When Katie read your name, the room broke into a smattering of applause.

“Congratulations!” Nancy cried from where she sat next to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you laughed, giving your friend a tight squeeze. 

Despite the fact that you had expected this, a wave of relief washed over you. There was no glamor in keeping this place running, you knew that. Still, you cared too much about it, and now it was in your hands… just as you had hoped.

Your joy could only last so long, though - you were almost too caught up in your personal celebration to notice. Almost.

“Okay, and for Program Director… Steve!”

This time, a few whoops and hollers were let out - probably from Steve’s buddies, large in number and often loudly enthusiastic. But, you were just frozen, feeling your fists clench.

The Program Director coordinates a lot of things - new DJ training, events, stocking the music library… and works most closely with the General Manager. Meaning...

“Looks like we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together, sweetheart,” he said later with a smirk. 

The meeting was long over - positions had been announced, congratulations given, goodbyes for the semester bid on the way out. You had sat there for the last hour with a rage steadily bubbling under the surface. You had tried your best to listen, relieved to find out Nancy was working as the Media Director, and your friend Eddie working as the Training Director. That, at least, offered some comfort - if you’d be running your favorite place with your friends, how bad could it be?

The answer, apparently, is still pretty shitty.

You can’t put a finger on exactly why Steve Harrington bothered you so much. But, from the moment you had met, he had been a thorn in your side. He knew it, too - it seemed to be his life’s mission to get on your nerves, just to get a rise out of you.

But he was blocking the exit, arm leaning casually against the doorframe. So, you took the approach you usually tried to - not letting him see that he was getting to you.

“Looks like it,” you said, words measured and careful. “But until then… have a good summer, Harirngton.”

You tried to shoulder past him, but he wasn’t budging. You sighed, meeting his gaze again and straightening up a bit.

“Do you mind?”

“I just thought you were gonna try to stick around - let me guess, you already have a 20-step plan for what we should do next year? I mean, I’m surprised you didn’t just jump all the new E-Board members to tell them how you’re going to run things. You know, in your insane and anal-retentive way.”

You clenched your jaw, grimacing as the notebook that you knew was buried in your backpack, containing your ideas for next year’s agenda.

"That's a pretty big word for you, I'm impressed," you mocked. Before he could come up with a clever reply, you continued:

“You know, I was surprised you ran for a position,” you said sweetly. “I mean, last I checked, you haven’t shown up to a single volunteer event. Were you even at the Spring fundraiser?”

“I was busy.”

“Funny way of saying hungover,” you retorted.

You took a deep breath, taking a moment to regain your composure.

“Look, we’re going to have to work together, so - can we just start over? Bury the hatchet, or whatever?”

He just grinned.

“Yeah, sure thing, sweetheart,” he said, voice lower. “You’re the boss.”

You had given up on asking him to drop the sweetheart thing long ago. So instead, you gave him a sharp nod, muttering have a good summer, Harrington.

He stepped aside enough to let you through, but still crowded the doorway enough that you had to brush past him as you did. 

You ignored the way his breath caught as you did.

Maybe you could both be mature adults about this… maybe.

*******

September

“Harrington?!” You cry, stomping into the booth. Steve sits in the chair, switchboard alight as Head Over Heels plays through the speakers. He barely hears you enter, thanks to the headphones he’s wearing. When you slam your hands down on the desk, he jumps in his seat.

“Jesus - the fuck are you doing here?” he cries, yanking the headphones off to let them fall around his neck.

“You booked studio space without going through me,” you say angrily.

His face shifted then, from confusion to smugness.

“Oh - well, you were unreachable, and I only needed two board members’ approval. And, I count as a board member.”

“Who the fuck was the second person who approved it?”

“Eddie.”

You groaned. Of course - Eddie probably didn’t even know -

“So your band just happened to book studio space to go on-air during my show’s time slot?”

“Oh… it’s during your show?” he asks, voice saccharine with feigned innocence. 

You rolled your eyes.

“Cut the act, Harrington. There are a ton of empty time slots that your little band could play during, you know.”

He sighed, crossing his arms and spinning the chair around to fully face you.

“If you’re so hurt about it, why don’t you come by? We need an emcee, and if you’re already usually here…”

“As if I’d waste my time coming to listen to you guys. I don’t even listen to your show.”

“So you’ve said. I thought your boyfriend was in the band too, last time I checked.”

You scoffed. “Eddie is not my boyfriend. And, not that he’d ever tell you, but he’s filling in as a favor. He’s only playing with you guys because Corroded Coffin broke up.”

Something unreadable flickers across Steve’s face, then he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, okay - keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But, we’ve got the time next Thursday - so, come by, don’t come by… I don’t give a shit. Just let me know by the weekend if you are - it’s only protocol, after all, and I know you’re a stickler for that.”

He pulls the headphones back over his ears, turning the volume of the music up a bit.

“Now, if you don’t mind - I’m about to go on-air, and I’d hate for everyone to hear your hissy-fit through the radio waves, you know?”

He returns his attention to the microphone, ready to turn down the music and start speaking - but you’re not giving him the satisfaction of sticking around to watch. 

You just huff, crossing your arms and stomping out with even more fury than you came.

Your drive home is full of frustration that grows to rage. You grumble under your breath over the hum of the radio, cursing Steve Harrington’s name at every red light, every sharp turn. It’s only when you pull up to your apartment and park that you realize what’s even playing through the car’s speakers.

It’s WAMC - what else would you have on? You always have your radio tuned to 98.9, doing your best to listen to your friends and support the station you hold so dearly. But, of course, the person on the air right now is him.

You had taken a personal vow a while ago to not tune into Steve’s show. You know it’s stupid - one listener doesn’t make a difference, and you know Steve Harrington certainly doesn't have trouble sleeping at night knowing that you don’t listen to whatever crappy music he plays over the air. But, he’s driving you crazy - he’s so arrogant, so smug, and everyone else eats it up. Nobody dislikes Steve Harrington… it seems like everyone on campus who knows Steve either is in love with him, or wants to be him. You’ll never understand the hold he has over people. 

But, maybe you should try to - it’s only fair to get a sense of what all the fuss is about, you reason. So, you turn up the volume dial, letting the music flow through the stereo and over the din of your still-running engine.

It’s about what you expect - mostly Top 40 hits, some classic rock sprinkled in. It’s not bad, necessarily - just, like nearly any other station you could tune your radio to. It’s not a hard and fast rule to play lesser-known music - it’s just encouraged. But, everyone tunes into Steve’s show, ask him for advice on how to plan a slot… it makes your blood boil.

You tell yourself that you’re only going to listen for a few minutes. When Steve’s voice comes on the air, you roll your eyes - he’s cracking jokes, giving anecdotes about the songs, and unfortunately, he’s nearly charming. You don’t realize a full hour has passed until he signs off. You quickly kill your engine and dart into your apartment, doing your best to try not to dwell on the slight disappointment in the show being over.

Double-booking your radio slot was only the most recent of a string of things Steve had been doing to piss you off - showing up late to meetings (if he even shows up at all), calling out of his radio show, making snide remarks under his breath at the meetings he does show up to… you’re basically doing two jobs at once. Any false promise of civility between you two is a thing of the past. He’s making your life a living Hell - but, you’re not one to back down. Two can play dirty, after all.

******

October

You and Steve spend the next few weeks doing a delicate dance, going back and forth not-so-subtly sabotaging one another. His band tried to book a gig at the local venue, which you conveniently “forgot” to sign off on. He tells incoming freshmen that they don’t need to go through you when applying to be a DJ, causing an enrollment nightmare. You pay Jonathan Byers $20 for the equipment to “break,” only for the two hours that Steve is scheduled to do his radio show. But, throughout it all, you barely actually see one another. It’s nearly a month later that you actually encounter him again.

The moment you set foot in the vinyl library, you groan. He looks up from where he’s perusing the records on the shelves, grinning as soon as he locks eyes with you.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.”

Fuck off, you think.

“Hey, Harrington,” you say, exhibiting what you consider to be an exorbitant amount of restraint. After your blowup last time, the last thing you need is to continue to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

You march straight ahead, going right to the shelf next to him. You pointedly stare forward, running your fingers along the spines of the albums, pulling out the ones you’re looking for as you find them.

You hear Steve scoff next to you, and you roll your eyes - practically an involuntary response with him at this point. 

“Do you have a problem?” you asked, your tone biting.

He just shrugs. “No. You’re just… predictable.”

“How so?”

“If you asked me to come in here, and pick out the records for your radio show for you… it’d just be too easy. Let me guess… The Smiths… Talking Heads… R.E.M…Sonic Youth…and some European band whose name I can’t pronounce, probably. Am I close?”

You clutched the records close to your chest, arms crossing to obscure them.

Steve just grins smugly.

You hold your place, not breaking eye contact. He simply shrugs, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Pleased with himself. Too cocky. A challenge. 

“That’s what I thought.”

You straightened up, keeping eye contact.

“You act as if you’re any better, with your Worst 40 bullshit -”

“You only pretend to not like it to be different -”

“I don’t pretend to not like your music! I’m just trying to make us sound different from any other station people tune into -”

“So you do listen to my show?” he asks. He’s still wearing that shit-eating grin, but for just a moment, you swear he sounds surprised.

You open and close your mouth a few times, debating what to say. You’ve been caught. And he’s just staring at you, so blatantly self-satisfied, that you want to punch him.

“Shut up,” you say quietly.

“You gonna make me?” he asks.

You feel your face heat. The vinyl library is too cramped, its narrow walls making Steve stand just a bit too close to you. You swallow, straightening up a bit. He’s blocking the only exit, a habit he seems to reserve especially for you.

“Can you let me leave, Harrington? Or do I have to answer a riddle or something first?”

“I’m having a party on Friday,” he blurts out. “You should stop by. Everyone else from the station is coming.”

You shake your head. 

“Um - I don’t think -”

“C’mon, sweetheart - show me that you know how to have a little fun!”

You shrug.

“Maybe. Whatever, I’ll see.”

He grins. “Okay - 36 Hamilton Street, by the way. Friday night, 10pm.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the darkness of the record library. You try to ignore how fast your heart is beating in his wake.

Fucking Steve Harrington.

author's note: Hi everyone! Here's the first part of a brand new fic - ta da! In general, I think the plan for this fic is to have shorter chapters, but more total chapters, so the word count will be... whatever it ends up being. Keep in mind that there will be smut down the line, so only engage is 18+, please. Likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated! Also, this was barely edited, so if you see a mistake... no you didn't.

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of radio stations have gone away in my part of the world. Corporate greedheads decided that they're just too expensive to operate, so they shut 'em down. Nobody was left to leave by then, though. DJs in distant castles were running four, maybe five "morning zoo" programs at once. Harried technicians were on contract. The offices sat empty, unlocked, and available.

The first inkling we received that something had gone wrong was an ill-advised radio broadcast. Across the city, a bunch of auto-tuning FM radio receivers trying to avoid commercials latched onto the old, dead frequency, now very much alive. Alive with what? Alive with the sound of the microphone on a local DJ's vacant desk, left open to the elements while a magpie and a seagull fought over the decades-old remnants of the sandwich he was eating at the precise moment he was fired.

Somehow, through some trick of giga-corporate ultra-consolidation, they had simply forgotten to sell the offices to someone else. Maybe there was no one else who wanted a radio station. Soon, a community of weirds developed around the area. At first, it was just the usual kinds: poets, beatniks, scooter enthusiasts: people used to scuffles with the law and with, at best, a wilfully incomplete understanding of the law. We waited for them to get arrested, but it never came.

The cops didn't care. No corporation was screaming at them that their rights were being violated. The newspaper that would have bullied the Chief was part of the sweep of radio stations that died. More people followed into this great communal experiment, self-organizing themselves into a replica of the ancient radio schedules. Call-in shows. Top-40 pop music. Long discussions into the night about which recreational substances should be legalized. It was glorious, but then it ended.

Turns out that Uncle Ted's Copper Theft Hour got one of its guests a little bit too worked up, and he decided to do a live demonstration right in the studio. The transmitter was down for two weeks, until someone could steal enough metal from Home Depot and an overturned self-driving drycleaning van to bring it back to life. By then, though, the passion had gone out of it. All the weirds, now unable to force their opinions on others without response, had scattered to the four winds, starting lawn care businesses and mimeographing crank newsletters at the public library.

It was the end of an era, but I don't regret anything about it. I got like seven dollars in wire out of that place, which was enough to buy a working stereo from the Pick N Pull so I could listen to the show.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

One of the more interesting aspects of Stayed Gone is the implication that, prior to his disappearance, Alastor must have been producing some quality programming.

Despite it's obvious importance in the modern world, TV apparently only started outcompeting radio in Hell after Alastor vanished. Seven whole years ago. And when Al returns, Vox's first response is to freak the fuck out about whether he's gonna keep his audience.

That's fucking crazy.

And we can be pretty sure that people weren't just listening in out of fear, either. Or because Alastor was making any major effort to crush all other forms of media.

If this was purely about which Overlord was the most powerful, then Vox's verses would surely have focused on emphasising his own strength. Instead, they're all about calling radio outdated. Vox is genuinely worried— apparently based on experience— that Alastor is going to outdo him in terms of sheer entertainment value.

Which raises the obvious question: what were Al's shows actually like? (Aside from those early broadcasts guest-starting the screams of the damned, obviously.)

We get kind of a taster in the song:

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air. Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast— Sinners, rejoice!— instead of a clout-chasing mediocre video podcast. Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Fitting between this fad and that, is nothing working? Every day, he's got a new format! Is Vox as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without the other Vees! And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team! I said no, and now he's pissy, that's the tea!”

Obviously he's doing it to music, so there's going to be some difference in the cadence of his voice from that, but still, he's talking noticeably quicker than he does in person. And he gets right to the point.

Compare it to his commercial in episode 1. There's a big difference in terms of both how much respect he's showing his audience (“well hello there, you wayward sinner!” vs “good to be back on the air”), and how much relevant information he delivers.

Alastor is a great character to watch, but most people who interact with him directly seem to find the experience either annoying, awkward, terrifying or all three.

Mainly because Al seems to go out of his way to put people off even when he's actively trying to get them to trust him, by making condescending asides or constantly dropping references to his own power. On air, however, he greets everyone politely and even drops what is almost an apology for being gone so long (“I know it's been a while”), then immediately gets to the information that he knows they're really listening for.

Alastor may not respect Charlie, Adam or Lucifer, but he does respect his audience.

And the content he's producing makes it clear why people are still tuning in. Al has the gossip. Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench may not be unbiased exactly, but they're clearly trying to provide sources for their claims and maintain some veneer of professional news reporting.

Al, meanwhile, is quite happy to provide strong opinions and baseless speculation about public figures, content that is less fitting with the professional image that Vox seems so desperate to keep up, but that is likely to attract a bigger audience.

What gets me curious now, however, is wondering what else he used to provide.

Again, radio was apparently the medium for news and entertainment in Hell until Alastor left. Implying that a) radio was at the time fulfilling many of the function that TV now provides, and b) Alastor was involved enough in this that it collapsed/got overthrown the moment he left town.

Did Alastor have an empire similar to the Vees? Did he run a bunch of channels? Did he have DJs and sports commentators and presenters on his payroll?

Given that radio seems to have collapsed completely after he left— did they all go running to Vox when he was presumed dead? Was the Vees new empire in part built on the ruins of Alastor's old one?

Or did he do the whole thing solo and just run like, a bunch of different shows. (In which case, since radio's bread and butter has always been music, Helluva Boss fans can now have fun imagining him interviewing Verosika Mayday about ‘Vacay to Bonetown’.)

[atinylittlepain]

Born in the USA - Part One of Hungry Hearts

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ cursing, eventual smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

a/n | hellooooo, folks, and welcome to the first installation of my Hungry Hearts series! i'm so stoked to share this one with y'all, as always let me know what you think!

...................................

The radio DJ called for record-breaking heat simmering the streets of Austin this week, and he certainly delivered. Too hot to think, too hot work, too hot to do much of anything until the sun starts to melt down in the late afternoons. She swears that she can feel the rubber soles of her sneakers sticking to the sidewalk with each step, the heat pressing humid hands to the back of her neck, sweat pooling in all the soft dips of her body. And it’s not like she wants to be out here in the first place. In fact, she would much rather be sitting in front of the box fan in her room right now, calculating how many days, hours, and minutes until she’ll be leaving again for school. It can’t come soon enough.

Nothing much has changed around her neighborhood since she was home in December for her holiday break. Same houses with the sleepy looking windows and basketball hoops in the driveways, same families with the nosey wives and oblivious husbands, same kids getting older and taller and more socially awkward. And the same empty lot at the end of the cul-de-sac that had been turned into patchy baseball field when she was in the first grade.

“Outfield, bring it in a little for this next one!”

“Fuck you, Miller! You’re gonna be eating those words!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that, kid. Show us what you got, why don’t you?” And that’s the same too, unfortunately.

“That’s a strike, wouldn’t you say, Tommy?”

“Sure looked like a strike to me, Joel.” All a bit juvenile, though she would expect nothing less from the Miller brothers. They’re in fine form this afternoon, she thinks, and it seems that all the other girls home from college think the same thing as well, hanging off the chain-link fence and tittering to each other about every ball Joel fields or every fifteen-year-old Tommy stamps out on first. Joel’s idea, no doubt, his eighteen-year-old brother always too happy to hang onto his shirttails and terrorize the pubescent neighborhood kids.

And for his part, Joel seems to know he’s garnered a small audience, just a touch too much flare when the teams switch out and he steps up to bat. He’s dressed in an obscenely short pair of cut-offs, frayed hems grazing along the tan, corded muscles of his thighs. Hi-tops and tube socks, and what once could have been called a shirt, now cropped and unbuttoned so it doesn’t do much but blow in the breeze and expose the lean tautness of his torso. Stance wide, leaning down low in his hips, he winds up the bat right behind his head and lets it rip entirely too hard on the lob he was pitched by that poor fifteen-year-old, sending the ball soaring right over the fence. She has to scoff when the girls she’s standing next to actually clap for him while he drinks it up as he takes a leisurely jog around the plates before jumping down on home with both his feet. And yeah, she thinks, not much has changed, at all.

“Will! Mom wants you home for dinner, let’s go!” Her baby brother, who has decided he is definitely not a baby anymore, does not like her shouting at him one bit, entirely ignoring her with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head from where he’s standing covering first base. Someone else, however, is more than happy to take notice of her.

“Is that? Oh shit! Cherry!” Long and drawn out, Cherryyyyyyyy, with a low whistle at the end. She hasn’t been called that since the last time she saw him, which was last summer in about this same position. Though if there’s one thing she’s gotten good at, it’s ignoring Joel Miller.

“Will, let’s go please!”

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! Why don’t you come over here and show these kids how it’s done? From what I remember you always had a mean little swing.” That gets most of the kids on the field laughing as Joel and Tommy snicker to each other in the makeshift dug out, more of a dirt ditch with a sheet of metal over top of it than anything else.

“Will, I’m not asking, I’m telling. Now.” Maybe she looks like a bitch stomping out onto the field to grab her brother by the arm. She doesn’t care. She’s hot and has sweat dripping in places that sweat should never drip and is coming dangerously close to throttling Joel in front of his little fan club if he doesn’t shut his smug mouth real soon. 

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me.” Will doesn’t budge from first when she hooks her hand around his bicep, brooding at her from beneath his bowl cut.

“Do you think I want to be taking you home? Just do me a favor and stop trying to act all tough in front of your little friends so I can go home and get mom off my ass.” 

“Hey, Cherry, he’s already got one mom. He doesn’t need you nagging him too!” Joel’s dig drums up another round of laughs from the whole field, and suddenly she’s reconsidering that whole throttling thing. Fine, she thinks, she can do nagging, just wait and see how good she can do nagging. She shifts her tactic, grabbing her brother by the back of his neck instead and starting to haul him along beside her, not giving him time to do anything but trip over his feet in a stilted shuffle to keep up. And of course, it is at that moment that Joel gets the whole crowd of kids started in a chorus of boos. 

“Damn, Cherry, when did you become such a tight-ass?” Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the girls still standing along the fence shooting her daggers, maybe it’s just a little bit of all of it that makes her stop dead in her tracks when Joel says that. But before she really knows what she’s doing, she has let go of her brother to march right over to home plate. Seeming a bit surprised that she did, Joel scrambles out of the dug out still too smug for her taste when he comes chest to chest with her. 

“Well are you going to give me a bat or what?” His smirk slips into a full grin at that, and for a moment she remembers how pretty she always thought he was. Strong jaw, dark eyes, and that shock of thick, brown hair of his. Such a shame that he’s an enormous tool, really. 

“I tell you what, Cherry, what time does your mom want Will home every night?” She knows that look he has in his eyes, all squinted up with his mouth screwed to one side. Always a sucker for a challenge, and she’s all too happy to play along.

“Seven o’clock, why?” He leans in a little closer, ducking his head down like he has the most delicious secret to tell her. She can see the sweat beading and pooling in the hollow of his throat he’s so close.

“Seven o’clock, alright, Cherry. If you can hit a homerun, I will personally see to it that Will is home at seven o’clock on the dot every night for the rest of the summer. How’s that sound?” She tilts her head, hands on her hips like she’s giving it a good think before finally answering him.

“Does he really hang out with you every night?” Joel snorts, his smile going slanted at her.

“Well, someone’s got to keep the kid entertained since you got all boring, miss college.”

“Fine, give me a bat.” That gets her a big grin from him as he backpedals to the dug out to grab a bat for her.

“Let’s switch out who’s fielding. I wanna be on short stop for this hit.” Of course he does. But she thinks to herself that that’s just fine, she’s going to give him a hit to remember. 

Tommy was always the nicer of the pair, and as he walks out of the dugout to cover first, he offers her a smile and a shrug as if to apologize for his brother’s dramatics. She always liked Tommy better, even as kids.

She hasn’t done this in a long time. Not since before puberty, probably. She used to play every summer with the Millers and all the other neighborhood kids in this exact lot, and it starts to come back to her as she toes the rubber of her sneakers against home plate. Her palms twist up on the bat, hips shimmying down and back a little to get into the stance, trying her best to focus on the pitcher and not the drawling heckling going on between second and third. He’s doing a warbling rendition of that old Four Seasons song, and she’s pretty sure that the name in the lyrics is Sherry, not Cherry. But he has made it fit with his own demented drone, crooning as he sways a little side to side.

Cherryyyyy, Cherry, baby, Cherryyyyy, can you come out tonight

Youuuuu better ask your mama, Cherry baby

Deep breath in, deep breath out, she has her eyes focused on the ball leaving the soft cradle of the pitcher’s fingers. Like riding a bike, really, the quick swing in her hips and the satisfying crack of the ball hitting the middle of her bat, and, oh. Oh. 

“Motherfucker!” It’s not like she meant to, but it’s also not like she’s mad that she did. It was a nice hit, strong and straight, right between second and third. And, well, straight into Joel’s groin. 

“What are you doing? Get up, man!” Tommy is all but shrieking at his brother. Joel, however, is still crumpled on the ground and groaning, his hands clenched between his thighs from what she can tell with her quick glances as she jogs from first to second. But she quickly realizes that it’s not just his hands clutched between his legs, but the ball too. And, well, it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon to field that one. 

“If you could have him home more around ten till that’d be great, thanks.” If he hears her talking over his curled up body, he makes no show of it, still groaning and writhing around in the dirt with his eyes scrunched shut. She steps over him and continues a much more leisurely pace through third and home. 

“Will, let’s go.” Her brother, slack-jawed with his eyes practically popping out of his head, finally listens to her, falling into step alongside her as she can’t help a smirk sliding over her lips. She has to roll her eyes when several of the girls rush out onto the field to fawn over Joel who still seems to be incapacitated and on his knees. 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” She tries not to laugh at Will’s exclamation, bumping his shoulder with her own as they start to head home.

“He’ll live.”

…

Sure, he’s always had a competitive streak, he’s not about to deny that. But that competitive streak may, emphasis on may, have gotten a little out of hand now that it’s his baby girl that’s in the competition and not him. Sarah has a talk with him before every game about it. About not yelling at the umpire, about not constantly asking her if she’s staying hydrated in the dugout, and, what she calls the most important point, about not trying to heckle the other team. And everytime, Joel promises her that, yes, he’s going to keep his cool and stay on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. And he tries, he really does. But, well, try is the operative word.

“Alright, babygirl, just like we practiced. Keep your eye on the ball and let your hips lead.” It’s the middle of June, the sun bright and beating down hard on the local ball fields where Joel spends most of his weekends cheering Sarah on in her softball matches. He is not sitting on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. He is hovering at the side of the dug-out with his head stuck out just enough that the umpire won’t yell at him to get back while he coaches Sarah on her swing. Sarah, however, does not seem particularly grateful for his pointers, glaring at him from beneath her helmet as she steps up to the plate.

“Strike!” Swing and a miss. Joel has to remind himself that no, it is not appropriate to swear at a little league softball game, settling instead for a quick clap of his hands.

“That’s alright, baby, that’s alright. Shake it off, baby, focus.” 

“Dad, please.” She says it with a dejected tap of her bat against the plate, the universal sign for back off, now. And sure, he thinks, he can back off, a few feet back toward the bleachers so his girl can focus on her swing, sure. 

“Strike two!” 

“Goddamnit.” He says it quietly enough that he’s pretty sure no one else hears it before stepping back closer to the plate, because obviously Sarah needs a little help here.

“C’mon, baby, you got this. Shake it off. Don’t choke up on the bat like that, baby, nice and easy.” 

“Strike three, you’re–”

“Hey, that wasn’t a strike!” Sarah is going to be so mad at him on the drive home, but he’s too busy stepping over to the umpire to yell at him to be worried about that right now. 

“Sir, please go sit down on the bleachers.”

“That pitch was way to the right, I saw it, that wasn’t a strike.” 

“Dad, it’s fine, I’m out. Just go sit down, please.” Sarah has already taken her helmet off, nudging her bat into the toe of his boot like, hello, you’re embarrassing me here. But Joel knows what he saw, and what he saw was a way to the right pitch that most certainly was not a strike. 

“Baby, you are not out, okay? Put your helmet back on.” 

“Sir, your daughter is out, now please go sit–”

“Just give her one more shot, man. C’mon.”

“Hey! Three strikes and you’re out, buddy.” It’s a woman’s voice, coming from somewhere behind him, a parent from the other team most likely, though he doesn’t turn around to see who it is, still staring down the umpire.

“That wasn’t a strike!” He tosses the exclamation over his shoulder, but the woman doesn’t seem ready to back down either.

“Are you saying my daughter doesn’t know how to pitch?” Alright, lady, if you want in on the action, be his guest. He turns around slowly, ready to deliver some sort of clever reply that he hasn’t quite worked out in his mind when–

“Oh shit. Cherry?”

“Wow, I haven’t been called that in nearly two decades.” So it is her. And of course it’s her. He’d recognize her anywhere, even seventeen years later. Still that little jut of her hip when she’s pissed, still that little crook of her chin like a challenge, even seventeen years later.

“So you’re still a competitive bastard then?” Yeah, and still that too, seventeen years later.

“I– you– that wasn’t a strike.”

“Oh, yes it was.”

“It was not.”

“My daughter doesn’t pitch balls on two strikes, okay? That was a strike.” With that, she leans to the side to talk to Sarah standing behind him.

“My condolences to you for having to deal with him, kid.”

“Thanks, you’re catching him on a good day, actually.”

“Hey.” He whips around to scold Sarah, but she’s still focused on Cherry.

“How do you know my dad?”

“Oh, me and him go way back. Don’t we, Joel?” He finds himself opening and closing his mouth a few times, looking between Sarah and a woman he thought he would never see again, though before he can get a reply out, the umpire mercifully cuts off their little reunion.

“Folks, there is still an active game going on here. Sir, your daughter is out, so if you could all please get off of home plate so we can keep this game going that’d be great.” Sarah has to tug him back to her team’s dugout, promptly pushing him over and onto the bleachers while he continues to stare at Cherry like she might disappear. She has walked back to the bleachers for her daughter’s team, though she stands on the sideline with her hands on her hips now. 

“You’re all good, Els. Just keep them coming, babe.” His attention draws over to the pitcher to whom Cherry is talking to because, right, she’s Cherry’s daughter. Cherry has a daughter, holy shit. Well, so does he. He has to laugh to himself, a little shake to his head.

A lot can certainly happen in seventeen years.

…

The thing that she hadn’t considered in agreeing to Joel Miller’s little deal was that it would still mean seeing a good amount of Joel Miller. Seven o’clock every night to be exact. Actually, ten till, so he did listen, at least. And of course he’s all smiles and charm, and of course her mother invites him in for dinner every night, and of course he says yes, and of course she has to sit across from him, kicking away his foot every time it encroaches on her space.

“So, Joel, are you still over at Thatcher’s full time?” She tries not to scoff at her mother’s question, the subtle turn of her nose and the slight tinge of judgment quirking up the end of her words. Her mother and her penchant for pedigree, something that the Miller family definitively does not have. If it bothers him, however, Joel doesn’t show it, smiling and thumbing the corner of his mouth as he finishes chewing.

“Yes, ma’am, seven days a week.”

“And does that pay well, son?” Ah yes, the one-two tag team of her mother and father both jumping in now, her father doing that thing where he pretends not to know, his eyebrows falling in mock curiosity. When, really, she’s nearly certain he has already calculated in his head exactly how much Joel makes in a week, month, and year busting his ass in that mechanic shop.

“Well, sir, I’ve got no complaints. Roof over my head and food on my table. And, uh, the tips are pretty good.” That one flies right over both her parents’ heads, but he says it looking directly at her, his eyes crinkling up with a smile that only tugs one corner of his mouth, sleaze and smarm. She is well aware of the tips he pulls in from all the bored little housewives and their daughters, something that always seems to be the topic of conversation on the loungers at the community pool. 

If he’s trying to get a rise out of her right now, she’s going to make sure he fails at it, giving him a tight-lipped smile and kicking his shin hard under the table where his foot has started to nudge against hers again. Joel lets out a hard cough, the table shaking a bit when his knee jumps up in reaction.

“Alright, son?”

“Yessir, I think all this heat is finally getting to me is all. I better head on home, but thank y’all for the meal, it’s very kind of you.” Her mother frets and fusses over him, insisting he take a tupperware of meatloaf and salad home and telling him to bring Tommy along next time. Great, she thinks, frick and frack both coming for dinner will be double the fun. Though she’s quickly distracted from that thought when her father lets out a long sigh from the head of the table. 

“Such a shame that young man is working like that. It’s a waste of potential, honestly.” 

“Oh, honey, don’t.”

“I’m serious, Carol. He was always a smart kid, probably could have gone to college, but instead he’s working in that car shop with seemingly no drive for anything more for himself. I just can’t believe Deedee and Hank are letting him carry on like that.” She knows this spiel well. Next her father will angle his chair toward Will and level his finger at him and–

“Will, you know what I was doing when I was Joel’s age?” Will huffs and rolls his eyes, slumping back in his chair like this is the hundredth time he has heard this, probably because it is.

“Getting ready for law school, dad.”

“I was getting ready for– yes, son, that’s right. And now look at me. Beautiful home, beautiful family, and a good job. Do you know what Joel Miller is going to have to show for himself at my age if he keeps going the way he is now?” 

“A whole lot of nothing, dad.”

“A whole lot of– yes, son, that’s right. At this rate, he’s probably still going to be living in that shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s when he’s forty.” 

“Can I be excused please?” She tries to hold back the contempt snapping through her words, already getting out of her seat before her mother can ask her what’s wrong. For as much as Joel Miller gets on her nerves, she hates this more, this faux pity her father so easily slips into, turning him into a lesson. And not a very good one at that, because while Joel may not be in college or raking in money, he at least seems happy, and she thinks that’s more than her father can say. She knows it’s more than she can say, staring up at the ceiling in her bedroom, this time trying to calculate the minutes until she gets to go back to school. She only makes it through tallying up the rest of June though before something tapping on her window distracts her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey, Cherry.” He’s lucky her room is on the first floor, or else she would have already shut her window. Though she can’t really do that when he’s standing right there in her mother’s shrubs with a wide grin that glints in the hazy dusk. 

“What do you want, Joel?”

“Mikey Donahue is having a party at his house. You wanna come? Have a little fun?”

“Uh, no, thanks.” She goes to shut her window again, but Joel holds it in place, not letting it budge no matter how hard she pushes down on it.

“Oh, c’mon. You used to be fun, what happened to that girl, huh?”

“I grew up, which seems to be more than you can say.”

“Oh, how you wound me, Cherry baby.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that? Nobody else calls me that these days except for you.”

“When you do something funnier than snorting cherry cola out of your nose.” At this point, she has given up on trying to close the window, resting her palms along the sill to lean out so she can whisper yell right into his entirely too smug face.

“I was nine, Joel. And it was your fault for making me laugh that hard.” 

“So you admit that I make you laugh?”

“You’re impossible.”

“That wasn’t a no, Cher.” All she can do is huff at him and his relentless grin, taking a moment to look him over. A little more dressed than usual, still in those cut-offs of his, but with an actual flannel shirt on top, sleeves rucked up to his elbows and with a few more buttons undone than what had been during dinner, slipping open even more when he leans down with his hands spread wide on the sill.

“Come on, it’s summer, and I know you’re not having any fun up in Chicago–”

“I have plenty of fun in Chicago.” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead when she interrupts him so quick, the snap of her words telling him just how untrue that statement actually is.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Just do an old friend a favor, Cherry, and come out with me tonight, huh? Really, it’s the least you can do after you almost busted my balls.”

“I was doing a public good by lessening the chances of little Joel Millers running around here in the future.” He lets out a long laugh at that, tossing his head back, the long line of his neck bobbing with the sound.

“Touché, but fine, if you don’t wanna come I guess I could always go knock on Lisa-Anne’s window. She got home last week.” He knows exactly what he’s doing by saying that, already pushing off the window and starting to walk away. Fine, she thinks, he can go have fun with stupid fucking Lisa-Anne from down the block. It’ll probably make her whole summer considering that she’s had a crush on him since his front teeth came in in the second grade. 

“Joel, wait!” He stops dead in his tracks, one foot still stuck in the shrubs outside her window as he turns around, his lips pursed to stave off what she’s sure would be a shit-eating grin. She’s already swinging one leg out of her window, trying to do so with as much grace as she can, though she still stumbles a bit in the shrubs,grabbing onto Joel’s arm to steady herself before quickly letting go with a huff.

“Just for a little while, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Cherry baby.” 

…

He’s not sure what the appropriate thing to do is in this situation. Not really any rules of etiquette for seeing a woman you didn’t think you’d ever see again, seventeen years later, and with a kid no less. All he knows is that he can’t let her drive off without saying something, so even as Sarah is calling his name like a question, he’s walking through the ballfield parking lot toward where she’s helping her daughter pack her bags into the trunk of their minivan.

“Uh, hey.” Great start, man, Jesus Christ. She turns around and smiles, smiles, and suddenly it’s summer of ‘86 all over again.

“Woah, old man, back off a little.” And suddenly it is most definitely not summer of ‘86, her kid stepping between the two of them and giving him a look that could kill. 

“Ellie, manners please. Why don’t you wait in the car?” 

“But, mom–”

“No buts, it’s fine, alright? I’ll just be a minute.” Her daughter, Ellie, huffs, giving him one more squinted look before she shuffles over to the side of the car, getting in with a hard slam of her door.

“So, mom, huh?” She tilts her head at him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders shrugging up.

“It looks that way. And dad?” She jerks her chin over his shoulder and he turns around to see Sarah standing by their car with one hand held over her eyes for shade as she squints at them. She’s never going to let him live this down.

“Looks that way, yeah. Are you– I didn’t– you’re back in town?” He’s trying to subtly look for a ring on her left hand, though her knuckles are still tucked into her jean pockets, and he’s pretty sure squinting at her pelvis is not a good way to make an impression in this unexpected reunion. 

“Yeah, we moved back at the start of June.”

“And when you say we, that’s– that’s you and–”

“Just Ellie and I, yep.” He has to try really hard not to smile at that, dragging a palm down his scruff to keep it at bay. 

“So you never left, huh?” 

“Uh, no, nope. Hopped a few neighborhoods over though. I don’t know if you heard, but the old block got torn down.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was, they put in a bunch of condos over it.” 

“Well I guess the times really have changed.” He should probably say something else, should probably get back to Sarah, but he can’t stop looking at her, and it seems like she can’t stop looking at him. Both of them studying all the places that time and life has settled. Her hair is shorter, he likes it, though he probably should keep that to himself. Before he can say anything, however, the blare of a car horn startles them both out of each other’s gaze. 

“Mom, let’s go.” Ellie has stuck her head out of the driver side window, the source of their interruption, already tucking back inside the car with another groan. Cherry just shakes her head.

“That’s my cue. I guess we’ll see each other around then, since our daughters are playing in the same league and all.” It still gives him pause, our daughters, and he has to clear his throat before responding. 

“I guess so, reckon we’re gonna give the umps a summer to remember.” She laughs, and he remembers that sound, still the same. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear it again, but now he’s glad that he does. 

“For the record, that was a strike.”

“Whatever you say, Cherry.”

“Can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

“Can’t believe you never did anything funnier than snorting cherry coke out of your nose.” All he gets from her at that is another shake of her head before she turns around to get in her car. Luckily, she doesn’t see the way he runs right into the open trunk of someone else’s car because of the way he’s slowly shuffling backward to get one more look at those jeans of hers from behind. He only realizes that he’s smiling like a fool when he gets into the car and Sarah shoots him a look from the passenger seat.

“Okay, you’re acting weird. Who was that?”

“Just a very old friend.”

........................................

tags for the moots and folks i think are interested - lmk if you want added or dropped : @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight

[raya-hunter01]

Let It Snow

One Shot

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Mila)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral, sex, fluff,

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Main Event Jey Uso is upset that the trip that he planned for his girlfriend Mila is not off to a good start. Frustrated, Jey goes live on his Instagram complaining about the snow. Now going through a snow storm the couple decide to make the best of it..

Let it snow!

“Yo’…… What is this shit? All mountains…… Yo, this that stuff ya’ll don’t see though,” Jey sighed full of frustration as we were going through a snowstorm warning. “Come on babe, we’re almost there,” I sighed as he ended his IG story.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m just frustrated nothin’ is goin’ right. Our first rental broke down, and I almost missed the show tonight. Now with this rental, they let damn third and second-row seats down to inspect them and now they stuck, looks like we drivin’ a bed,” Jey said as I looked in the backseat. 

He had a point, but if he knew what I wanted to do on those seats, I don’t think he would mind.

“Babe, it’s fine at least they were able to get us this SUV at the last minute and they cut the price down,” I said trying to see the good in the situation.

“We could have been stranded in that town until after Christmas, but the rental place came through at least on that part,” I said trying to point out what we should be thankful for.  

“Yeah, they did so I’ll give them that, but the hits just keep coming.  How does a snowstorm warning come as the snow is falling? We stuck drivin’ like old people make love, slow as snails,” he ranted as I bit back a smirk at his analogy. 

“Look just breathe, It’s ok baby. Everything is working out, it’s just takin’ us a little longer than planned to get to the cabin,” I said as he kissed my hand.

“I know I’m trippin’ and I’m sorry.  I just wanted something better than this for our first Christmas trip together Mila.  It’s been a disaster, nothin’ has gon’ right at all,” Jey said glancing at me as I played with his hair.

“Jey, you can’t help what happened with the rental and you can’t control the weather. I’m just happy we’re here together," I said as he sighed, rubbing his hand over his beard.

“You right, but I still should have just requested the house show off today. We could have been warm in the cabin, and watching the snow fall instead of driving in it,” he said caressing my leg.

“Uh no, you shouldn’t have, the fans loved you tonight. Many people got those tickets as Christmas gifts and you guys made so many little kids dreams come true tonight. Never take that for granted because in an instant it can be gone,” I said as he smiled at me.

“I just love you da hell outta you, you know dat right," he said glancing at me as I blushed. 

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I leaned over slowly caressing his chin, gently kissing him on the neck as he groaned in pleasure.

“See you startin’ shit, don’t make me throw yo’ ass in the backseat and have my way wit you,” his deep voice warned as I smirked against his neck before returning to my seat looking innocently at him.  

“Then you lookin’ at me like that. I’m serious Mila, you gon’ bring in Christmas full of dick and carpet burns on yo’ ass, keep playin’ he said as I laughed.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, you gon’ have to stand on business you keep talkin’ like that now. I just wanted to tell you, that I love you too,” I said turning up the radio as he smirked keeping his eyes focused on the highway.

Jey’s POV

“Everyone here at the quiet storm would like to thank you all for tuning in on this cold, snowy Christmas Eve. Tis the season to be with the ones you love.  So, fellas grab ya ladies and make some beautiful memories,” the DJ said as Let It Snow by Boyz II Men and Brian McKnight began playing. “A’ight ya’ll set the mood,” I said as the slow ballad filled the car.

Let it snow

Let it snow

Let it snow, let it snow

“I know right, it doesn’t even feel like Christmas until I hear this. It’s one of my favorite Christmas songs,” Mila said leaning back in her seat, humming as I smiled at her.

Having an Idea, I looked at my road markers and turned off the highway. “What are you doing?” Mila asked as I backed off the road a little in between two trees turning on the brights making the deserted road covered with beautiful white snow glow.

“You’ll see baby,” I whispered turning up the music before I got out and went around to her side of the car, opening her door. 

“Jey, it’s cold as hell and we already ain’t dressed for this type of weather. You got on a hoodie, and I got on this dress,” she stressed as I laughed grabbing her blanket off her lap and helping her out of the car.

Hey, it's another Christmas Holiday

It's a joyous thing let the angels sing.

Cause we're together.

“You heard the DJ, he told me to grab yo’ fine ass and make some memories,” I said leading her to the front of our rental as she smiled shyly at me.

“You are just full of surprises,” she whispered as I twirled her around, wrapping her blanket around us as we swayed to the music. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” I said as she laughed.

“Nah, what you doin' is makin’ me fall even harder for you Mr. Fatu,” Mila whispered running her fingers through my hair. I felt my heart swell as her beautiful eyes held me captive.

“That means I’m on the right track Vaivai,” I whispered as she blushed at my use of my native tongue.

We got a thing here, can't let it slip away

Though outside is rain and sleet

When our bodies meet...

I don't care 'bout the weather

“So, you think I’m beautiful?” Mila asked as the light shone on her beautiful face making her even more stunning than she already was.

The snow seemed to be falling harder and I knew we should get back on the road, but I didn’t care I was in the moment with her and that was all that mattered.

“You my beautiful angel,” I confessed, pulling her closer as she laid her head on against my chest, slowly grazing her fingertips across my chest making my heart race.  

Let it snow, let it snow

Outside it's cold but the fire's blazin'

So baby let it snow

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Feeling her shiver against me I wrapped her blanket tighter around us as she looked up at me smiling brightly.

“I would have never dreamed we would be out here dancin’ in the snow, I know you hate it,” Mila said as I gently kissed her.

“It seems to be growin’ on me…Especially since you here wit me,” I said, her hands caressing my face as I fell deeper into the beautiful pool of her brown eyes as she shyly nibbled on her bottom lip.

Mila's POV

Talk about a core memory…. Jey’s strong arms around my waist holding me close as we danced in the snow. I felt safe and loved, something he always promised me I would feel if I just gave him a chance.

I wanna wrap you up, baby

Then you'll see you're the only present I need

There's so much more

Waiting for you in store

 “You just keep biting dat lip, you know what that does to me, Mila,” Jey moaned gently caressing my lower lip with his thumb, his words making my pussy quiver.

“Stand on business then ma ave au,” I whispered kissing his thumb, slowly opening my plump lips, swirling my tongue around it as he growled lowly.

From this precious day

I can gladly say

There's no place that I'd rather be

“Mmm, you want me to stand on business and take you? That what you want baby?" Jey asked as I released his thumb. "Yes," I panted breathlessly as he used his thumb to once more caress my lips before finally taking me in a slow sensual kiss.

My knees became weaker by the second as we explored each other’s mouths, desperate to get closer. Three weeks had been too long for us both.

“I been dreamin’ bout you and what I’d do when I saw you again. You ready for me baby?” Jey asked, tortuously moving his kisses to my shoulder, playing with the straps on my dress.

And oh, you are my everything, come a little closer

God must have sent you down from heaven

Let it snow, let it snow

My hands trembling as I gripped his shirt. “Mmm, Yes, I want you so bad,” I moaned into the blistery night air unafraid to say what I wanted and needed.

Jey growled suddenly grasping my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist, carrying me back to our SUV as I nibbled on his neck.

I don't care 'bout the weather baby

All I need you to do is be with me, baby

Let it snow

As long as you're here with me

Let it snow

“Once again Merry Christmas from the crew here at the Quiet Storm goodnight, everybody,” I heard the DJ faintly say as I feasted on Jey’s neck, his moans urging me to have my way.

Carrying me around to the back of the SUV, Jey opened the liftgate and gently laid me down as I slid back towards the front, avoiding our luggage.

 “Shit, the lights. We don’t need anybody stopping thinkin’ we need some help. We ain’t got much time, and you betta be naked when I get back Mila,” his deep sexy voice commanded as he ran back around to the driver’s side.

I quickly discarded my clothes laying on my blanket and using my dress as a pillow.

 I felt a blast of heat above me, feeling thankful he turned the heat up. Planting my feet and opening my legs I closed my eyes in anticipation.

Hearing the liftgate close, my breath hitched and my heart began to race as I felt Jey’s hand caressed my legs.

“Fuck, you look so gorgeous like this, waiting for me to take you,” Jey moaned as I trembled feeling him between my thighs lightly running his fingertips across my hips.

“Baby please,” I begged not ashamed in the slightest as his lips lightly brushed across mine.

“Look at me Mila, I want you to watch me… Watch me pleasin’ you baby,” Jey moaned grasping my chin, making me look at him as I trembled against him.

“Jey don’t tease me,” I whimpered against his lips as I felt him smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it beautiful,” he whispered slowly inching into my welcoming fountain.

“Mmm, Fuck!” I exclaimed as each thrust was better than the last as I felt him growing more and more inside me.

“Yea, you love feelin’ dat dick rock up in dat pussy, don’t you baby?” Jey asked biting back a moan, clawing his back.

“Yes, baby, fuck yes,” I moaned, my back arched in ecstasy exposing my ever-sensitive neck. Growling in appreciation Jey began sucking greedily on my neck as my pleasure continued to climb higher with each powerful thrust.

“That's it, that's what I wanted...Just like dat Mila, you beautiful baby,” he praised as I shivered, his teeth lightly grazing my neck.

 I began to move against him as he hissed, stilling my hips.

“Not yet, I don’t want you to cum yet,” he declared sitting back on his knees, one hand grasping my hips, sinking slowly and deeply inside me setting a steady pace as the other lightly grasped my neck.

“Baby…babybabybabyjey. Mmm, you so deep,” I purred as he took me how he wanted.

“Mmhmm and you takin’ it all Mila. Fuck!  You such a good girl, I love dat shit,” Jey praised me as my eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“I love it too,” I proclaimed, sitting up wrapping my arms around his neck, and bouncing to meet his thrusts. Claiming his lips in a powerful kiss, our tongues met again with urgency.

"Fuck, Mmhm! Bounce on dat dick and show me how much you missed it", Jey whispered, intertwining our hands givin' me leverage as I bounced with wild abandon, on a mission for us both.

"Mmm, you like that baby," I groaned flicking my tongue against his lips as a low growl escaped them.

“Yes! Fuck yes,” Jey moaned, releasing my hands, lowering me down, and spreading my legs wider. His thrusts never faltered as a strangled moan fell from his lips as he snapped his hips forward, going deeper inside me.

"Jey! Shit!" I gasped, drowning in pleasure as he pleased me. His intense gaze holding me captive.

“Uh huh, I ain’t forgot bout that spot baby, fuck dat pussy getting’ even wetter for me. You close ain’t you?” Jey moaned as our hips pounded against each other.

Yes! I'm so close," I cried, my eyes glazed over in pleasure as I finally gave in and allowed them to close. Biting my bottom lip, I shyly put my hands over my face.

“Look at me, Mila stop hiding from me. If you don’t, I’ll stop,” Jey declared as I forced my eyes open." Jey, please,” I moaned as he began rubbing his thumb and forefinger against my clit sending shockwaves through my body.

“I got you, baby, I promise,” Jey moaned as I began moving against him again as he groaned. “Mmm, I know baby,” I moaned as his fingers swirled around my clit again before he traced my lips with the same two fingers.

“Open up for Daddy baby,” he whispered, slowly slipping his fingers inside my mouth. Groaning, I greedily began sucking on his fingers as he smirked at me.

“You taste good, don’t you? Let Daddy see,” He whispered, with a carnal gaze rendering me speechless as he pulled out abruptly.

 Whimpering at the loss of him, Jey threw my legs back, and greedily began sucking my clit between his lips as I squirmed beneath him. “Oh my God Jey!” I cried  gripping his hands on my legs as he controlled my body.

“Yea, It’s me, baby, It's been too long since I've tasted you," he moaned curling his two fingers against my g-spot.

“Yes, it has! Eat your pussy, baby,” I praised as he devoured me whole as I used as I began moving against his mouth with a purpose.

“Mmmhm, you taste so good, I been waitin’ on this,” he proclaimed curling his fingers even faster as he flattened his tongue lapping it against my clit his gaze never leaving mine.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, get nasty with that shit, lick it all up baby,” I purred as Jey growled, simultaneously moving his fingers and tongue together even faster in sync.

 My body whimpering in need, steadily climbing heights I didn’t even know existed until I had nowhere else to go.

“God, I love you!” I cried reaching my peak, spilling into his awaiting mouth as he drank my essence humming in satisfaction.

“Mmm, I love you too baby,” he moaned caressing my thigh as I fought to catch my breath.

“That was amazing ba- Shit!” I exclaimed as he entered me swiftly towering over me, his lips overpowering mine we tasted each other.

“Yes, it was but I ain’t done wit you yet,” Jey moaned thrusting long and deep inside me as felt my body begin to tingle all over again.

“I want you to cum when I tell you to. Do you hear me?” Jey grunted nibbling on one of my nipples while caressing the other before giving the other the same equal attention as I continued to melt into him.

I knew Jey felt I was close, as he began thrusting harder. "Jeyjeyjeyjey….…. Oh, baby!” I gasped almost chanting, pushing at his lower abdomen. Each thrust was more powerful than the last as he went deeper, rendering me unable to think.

“Move yo’ hand, why you tryin’ to run,” Jey groaned biting his lower lip never stopping his thrusts as I felt myself about to tip over the edge of ecstasy again.

“Stop runnin’ Mila, all this is just for you… Don't be scared, get your nut,” Jey moaned moving my hands as he went deeper.

“Mmm, fuck, I can take it. I can take it all ” I moaned as Jey leaned down, grasping my throat, taking me in a possessive kiss as he continued to take me deeper and deeper.

“I know you can take it all baby. You look so gorgeous takin’ it too,” he groaned against my lips as I writhed beneath him, both of us chasing climax.

“Mmm, right there. I'm bout to cum,” I moaned as he trembled against me as my pussy pulsed, engulfing him tighter.

“Shit! Me too, cum wit me beautiful,” Jey moaned as I fell apart in his arms “I’m cummin’!" I exclaimed as we went over the cliff together slowly falling back to earth as he collapsed in my arms, his head laying on my chest as I played with in his hair.

Totally spent and trying to catch my breath, I looked up at the clock on the radio, damn 12:30 a.m.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered as Jey gently kissed me. “Merry Christmas baby,” he whispered, sighing against my lips as his phone rang and interrupted our moment.

“Damn it’s Jimmy,” Jey said reaching up front, getting his phone as I started putting my clothes back on.

“What’s up, Uce,” he said putting Jimmy on speaker phone, pulling up his sweats and putting his hoodie back on.

“Aye, where the hell ya’ll at?  We just got to our cabin and I didn’t see ya’ll's SUV next door. Ya’ll left before we did, is everything good Jimmy asked as Jey sighed.

“Yea, we good, Uce,” Jey said as he stared at me licking his lips as I blushed, not believing what we had just done.  

“I checked your location and you been in the same spot for awhile. Ya’ll didn’t break down, did you?” Jimmy asked as I shook my head.

“Nah, we bout to get back on the road, Uce, we just stopped for awhile the snow was getting to me,” Jey said as I raised a brow at him. “Damn liar,” I whispered as he smirked.

“Uh huh, more like seeing Mila again was getting’ to yo’ ass,” Jimmy snickered as I climbed back into my seat as Jey opened the liftgate and went back around to the driver’s side to get in.

“Bro, chill we on the way, and the snow ain’t too bad now so it shouldn’t take us long,” Jey said starting the SUV as I bundled back up under my blanket.

“A’ight well text me when ya’ll get here, maybe we can all do breakfast a little later on today,” Jimmy said as they exchanged their goodbyes.

“Well let’s gon’ knock this last hour out,” I said as Jey smiled at me.

Yea, let’s do that cause when we get to the cabin….Oouu you in for a long ass week. I doubt we gon’ be goin next door to have breakfast with Jimmy and Trin later on today.. Maybe tomorrow but definitely not today,” he said as I laughed.

“Well I’ll hold you to that,” I said as he kissed my hand. We had another hour to ride in this snow but one thing was for sure…

This Christmas was definitely shaping up to be one to remember.

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl  @theninthwonder @mya2real 

[commsroom]

a big part of what makes eiffel feel like such a real person to me is that he's so average and unfulfilled even by attainable metrics. like, not even getting into any pop culture escapist fantasies. eiffel is the kind of guy who thinks if he was born a few decades earlier he'd be a traveling musician living out of a van, but realistically he'd be doing more or less the same stuff. he could be a local radio dj or a guy with a used record store or drive an old truck and have a yard full of rusty old cars up on cinder blocks he's trying to revitalize. he could be a skater, if he had the patience, and, um. the balance. zach once said that if eiffel had the money he'd buy a motorcycle and never learn how to ride it, just take a bunch of pictures of himself with it and tinker with it constantly, and if anyone asked why he doesn't ride it, he'd keep saying he wants to do some more work on it first. i think about that so much. there are a lot of things that he could do, that fit his sort of character archetype, and they aren't even remarkable things, but he doesn't. eiffel drove a corolla and worked at pizza hut and probably lived in a shitty apartment. sincerely, this is the best thing about him. this is why he's a real guy to me.

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut where they decide to use toys (and there's a lot of squ!rt!ng involved?) ty!

Sunny

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: A searing heat wave leaves Johnny with new ideas on how to beat the heat.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Temperature-play, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! (Also I know it’s not technically toys, but I figured this would work! If you want a full-on toy fic with Johnny just shoot me an ask and I’ll write it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

“It’s 12:05, this is Lee Bayley on Tulsa’s KAKC with the sounds of sunshine!”

Sunshine your ass, whatever hung heavy in the midday sky felt more like a blazing inferno rather than the dainty sun you’d painted in the corner of your childhood drawings. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too peeved at the radio host, the man was likely indoors under heavy air conditioning.

At least he was a damn good DJ, nobody else seemed to be playing a mix of Santana and Van Morrison, not so early in the day anyhow. The hum of bass and methodical drums filled your one-bedroom apartment, the rare wind gust blowing your window blinds against the siding of your wall.

Johnny had hardly given you a moment to beg for a cold shower together before he’d pressed a kiss to your temple that morning, whispering words you didn’t quite catch - all you’d truly caught in your overly hot and tired state that morning had been his promise of something cold when he got back.

You rolled yourself off the muggy bed, kicking your feet in frustration as the top sheet tangled itself around your ankle, as if silently begging you not to leave it under the prying eye of the sun. You were in no mood, so with a grunt you rolled onto the floor, body emitting a soft thud as you came in contact with the shag carpet below.

In nothing but your underwear and an old beaten shirt of Johnny’s you trudged your way into the kitchen, opening up all the windows on your way through the apartment. Your radio softly hummed from your bedroom, some song you didn’t entirely recognize, but found yourself swaying your hips to nonetheless as you bent over to seek something cool in your fridge.

Surprise, surprise. There was nothing. Unless you counted the half-eaten clementine on the right side of the fridge, sitting all pitiful against a half-gallon of milk. As anyone would in their right mind when faced with overbearing summer heat, you closed your refrigerator and opened your freezer, crossing your arms against the frigid plastic before resting your cheek against your propped arms.

The freezer motor buzzed to life, adding to the already abundant noise of the city below pouring through your open windows. You continued humming to the faraway music sounding from your bedroom, losing yourself in the abundance of cool air as you shut your eyes. You’d likely have fallen asleep standing up if it hadn’t been for the slam of the front door, followed by a sing-song whistle, one you knew by heart.

“In here!” You called, not daring to move from your self-created frozen heaven.

“Freezing yourself?” Johnny asked through a gentle laugh, placing down two armfuls of paper bags. You only hummed in reply, tilting your head to the other side to give him a brief smile, one he returned in earnest despite the subtle redness against his cheeks.

“Got you somethin’.” He murmured, tone playful as he moved over to you. Your eyebrows lifted in intrigue, curiosity getting the better of you as you moved from the freezer, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“And what’s that?” You asked with a smile.

“A treat.” He responded, rifling through the paper bags before handing you a cup that he’d so diligently wrapped in another paper bag. “Told you I’d get you somethin’ this mornin’, treat to beat the heat - or whatever the hell they say on those commercials.”

You would’ve groaned at his poor imitation of the commercial that plagued your television set, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the ice-cold treat in your grasp. With a giddy laugh, you flipped the top off, an audible, and admittedly dramatic moan leaving you as you spooned a hefty amount of the Icee into your mouth.

“Good right?” He asked, hand gently pushing your hip from the drawer behind you to fetch himself a spoon, digging in alongside you as you nodded. Icee’s were certainly a good way to cool your body down, and you definitely didn’t mind watching as Johnny moved beside you, tilting his head back in cold-induced euphoria.

“Very good.” You murmured around your plastic spoon, eyes watching him intently as he scooped another spoonful of the slushy into his mouth. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way his face looked when flushed - either way, you were burning up and the Icee was doing little to quell the heat pooling in your stomach.

Oblivious to your plight, Johnny’s eyebrows lifted, metal spoon still in his mouth as he turned around to free a hefty bag of ice from one of the paper bags. You hummed in thanks around your spoon, earning you a quick nod as he pushed the bag toward the back corner of the freezer.

You placed the half-empty cup down behind you, hands slick and wet with condensation. You took your chance, slinking yourself behind Johnny, giving him no time to duck away before reaching your hands up and underneath his shirt, splaying your cold hands against his warm muscles.

“Jesus-“ He cried out, back arching away from your hands as he reached behind himself, pained words turning into pleading laughter as he turned himself around. “Quit it!”

He had more than enough strength to wrestle your arms snug against himself, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to torture him with your overly cold fingertips. But he loved the way your smile would crinkle the skin beside your eyes, how your nose would scrunch. It was precious to him, worth the goosebumps that raced across his skin, the droplets of cool water that raced down to the hem of his jeans - all of it.

In a bid to have you more pliant, he grabbed your forearms, pulling them around himself. You continued laughing, head falling back as you smiled up at him through your laughter-induced tears. He returned your smile, eyes focused on yours as you steadied your breaths. His hands dropped from your arms, instead moving to cup your jaw as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The taste of artificial cherry soared across your tastebuds, along with a sudden chill at the coldness of his tongue. You lifted your arms, draping them around his neck as your tongue moved with his, goosebumps spreading up your forearms at both the fading chill of his tongue paired with the burning lust settling heavily in your lower stomach.

His hands moved from your jaw, tracing along the curve of your waist before resting against the swell of your ass. He gave the plush flesh a harsh squeeze, pulling a surprised squeal from you, one that made him smile into your kiss before resuming his movements.

The bedroom wasn’t far away, but he had no patience, not when you were standing half-dressed in front of him - in his shirt, no less. His fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear, brushing his fingertips along your mound as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“Couch?” He asked, pulling away a fraction to gauge your reaction. When you nodded he backed away, watching with an amused smile as you ran toward the living room. Rather than follow behind you, he turned toward the freezer.

You sunk into the warm fabric of your couch, shallow breaths leaving you in droves as anticipation wore you thin, causing you to soak the thin fabric of your underwear. He reappeared with a glass filled to the brim with ice, condensation already fogging the bottom where his hand rested.

“Gotta cool you down, right?”

You nodded as he moved to sit beside you, placing the glass down on the adjacent coffee table. He then dipped his fingers into the glass, curling the digits around two cubes of ice. Two fingers kept one held firmly against his palm as he held the other between his thumb and index finger, maneuvering himself between your legs, free hand helping your legs to drape over his lap.

“Trust me?” He asked as cool water dropped onto your bare thigh from his palm. You nodded, breath catching in your throat at the plethora of ideas that soared through your mind. He caught your excitement with a smile, his free hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, words careening on the edge of inaudible as he trailed an ice cube around the fullness of your bottom lip. You obeyed, eyes fluttering as you parted your lips. He smiled down at you, finding himself proud of how quickly you listened to him. “Good girl.”

You tilted your head back, allowing him to push the ice farther into your mouth, watching as his eyes focused on how quickly the ice melted against the heat of your tongue.

The sight of your tongue twitching underneath the ice, cold water dripping from the corner of your lips, Johnny couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His hand grasped your jaw, fingers threading through your hair as his tongue met yours.

The steady drip of cool water against your waist pulled you away, goosebumps chasing the droplets in earnest. Johnny murmured an apology against your lips, hardly backing away an inch before his hand smoothed underneath your shirt, lifting the fabric up and over your head.

He took the half-melted ice cube between his fingers, placing it in his mouth as he situated himself between your thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, ice perched between his lips. You could only watch as he lowered himself, bitter cold making contact with the hollow of your stomach. He trailed his lips downward, goosebumps rising along your skin. Cool droplets of water headed down the side of your stomach, leaving you involuntarily arching from the couch as his hands kept your hips steady.

“Johnny-“ You whined, feeling your arousal coat the thin fabric of your underwear. He ignored your plea, instead hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down in tandem with his movements. You could feel him inching closer to your aching cunt, his right hand pushing your thighs apart, pinning your knee to the backrest of the couch.

You’d expected him to give in, to give you the pleasure you’d so desperately sought after. Instead, he sunk lower onto the couch, trailing the ice onto your inner thighs. You shivered, soft moans falling from you as droplets of water glided down to your cunt. Every so often his gaze would meet yours, the desperation hidden beneath his eyes becoming more ravenous with each passing second.

He propped himself up on his arm, plucking the ice from between his lips. It dripped down his forearm, accidentally causing water to smear against your inner thighs. In a makeshift apology for having teased you for so long he leaned down, right hand held away from your body as he pressed featherlight kisses against your damp inner thighs. You hadn’t the mind to be frustrated, only wanting his lips, fingers, or anything he’d give you.

“Been so patient.” He murmured after placing another open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. “So proud of you.”

Before you could conjure a response he shifted between your legs, brushing the edge of the ice against your clit. You gasped, hips bucking down against the couch. His free hand moved back to your hip, holding you steady as he continued swirling the ice against your aching clit. You were left writhing under his hold, mind muddled by the pleasure and lack of release.

In an act of mercy, he tossed the ice to the floor, hands splaying against the underside of your thighs, fingertips freezing against your skin. You rested into his hold, shifting your hips to bring yourself closer to him. He responded to the movement with a smile and a kiss to your thigh, trailing his lips downward until he reached your cunt. The heat from his lips burned, the shift in temperature drastic enough for your hips to buck up into his touch.

His tongue delved between your folds, your arousal coating his tastebuds, the taste pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he swirled his tongue around your clit. The feeling of his tongue against you paired with the obscene sounds of him sucking your clit into his mouth left you whining, hardly able to manage a measly breath as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

Your fingers threaded through his thick hair, the placement of your hands giving you enough balance against the couch cushions to rut up against his tongue. He never backed away, letting you use his mouth as he tried his damndest to keep up with the desperation-fueled bucks of your hips. His middle and ring fingers spread your folds, allowing him to lick a stripe up your cunt before he focused his attention back on your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to brush against your g-spot.

“Fu-uck.” Was all you managed at the combination, word breathless as he thrusted his fingers into you, syncing his movements with his tongue. Your hips rocked down against the digits, pushing them deeper into your cunt, the depth causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling, the vibration of his voice centered around your clit. You could feel your lower stomach tensing, thighs trembling in his hold as he lapped at your cunt.

He could feel your orgasm building before you’d even registered it, too blinded by the onslaught of pleasure to recognize your cunt fluttering around his fingers, how your breaths had become short gasps of his name, your grasp on his hair tightening to an almost painful degree. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down against the plush skin as he continued pumping his fingers into you, massaging that spot within you that left you trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, begging you to come undone against his tongue and around his fingers. You gave him his wish with a broken cry of his name, back arching from the cushion of the couch, your hips jerking as he continued his ministrations. His pace sped up, the pleasure almost brutal as he helped you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, soaking the fabric beneath you.

His lips and chin glistened underneath the overhead light, the sight making you flush as he wiped his skin dry with the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric off of himself afterward. You leaned up, thighs shaking with the movement as your hands found the front of his jeans. He looked down at you, lips parted as his breaths came in shuddering gasps. You kept his gaze as you unzipped his jeans, fingers sliding against the worn denim. You could feel his cock straining against the material, his chest heaving with each touch of your fingers against his shaft, no matter how featherlight.

You slunk your hand into the fly of his jeans, flattening your palm against the shaft of his cock, fingertips settling at the base as you leaned up onto your knees, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss as you swallowed the moans that left him at the feeling of your hand slowly moving along his aching cock. You’d hardly been able to wrap your fingers around him before he’d pushed you back onto the couch, right hand moving to cup the underside of your thigh, hiking it up to rest against his lower back.

“Please-“ You whined against his lips, hands eagerly pushing his jeans down his hips.

He leaned down onto his left arm, propping himself up as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself languidly as he swiped his tip along your soaked folds, finding himself unable to stop the groan that reverberated in his chest at the warmth of your cunt against him.

Your eyes met his in a silent plea for him to fuck you, to extinguish the fire burning heavy in your lower stomach, the very feeling that left you dripping, clenching around nothing as he teased you with the tip of his cock.

“Johnny-“ You panted impatiently.

With a roll of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out blissfully. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, causing your hips to twitch as you grew accustomed to his size. You two fucked often, yet every time you had to give yourself a moment to readjust to his size, not that he minded - if anything he seemed to love the sight of you squirming beneath him, lips parted as you took in shaken gasps while your cunt squeezed around him.

“Alright?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning back to level his eye-line with yours. You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to pull his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, the lewd sound of your cum coating his shaft filling the shared silence between you.

Your legs tightened around his hips, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back, pushing him deeper into you in tandem with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes stayed locked with his, pupils blown, irises sharing every emotion you couldn’t put to words while overcome with such intense pleasure.

His pace was slow, methodical, ensuring he brushed against each spot inside of you that left you rolling your hips with his, wordlessly begging for more. With a kiss to your temple, he slunk his hand down between your damp bodies, circling his middle and ring finger around your clit.

A gasp rasped from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushion of the couch, the combination of his cock and fingers leaving you a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths. He watched you, face flushed a reddish hue from both the heat and the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock each time he bottomed out inside of you.

You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, warm and wet, stark in comparison to the remnants of water that lingered against your chest and stomach. His fingers picked up in their pace, the change pulling a drawn-out moan from you as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your lower stomach tense.

“Johnny-“ You whined, words trembling.

“I know.” He replied, closing the distance between you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down to your jaw. His cock twitched as his hips rocked forward, pace hastening as he felt your cunt fluttering around him. “I know, baby.”

With a sharp cry of his name, you were cumming around his cock. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, each one interrupted by a choked-back grunt as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against you as he rutted into you, tiny breaths and whines of your name tumbling past his lips. He tried to muffle the noises by burying his face in the crook of your neck, but you heard them all the same, each noise causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Fuck, I-“ He breathed, eyebrows screwed together as he pushed himself up onto his left arm. He abruptly pulled out of you, the feeling of being empty leaving you whimpering as he pumped himself through his orgasm, spilling himself onto your lower stomach with a grunt of your name.

He collapsed onto you, placing light kisses against your throat in between whispered praises, his right hand smoothing up the side of your waist, fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as you both caught your breath.

“Definitely didn’t help us cool down.” You laughed out, looking over to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed in response, a lazy smile evident on his face, absolutely glowing in post-coital bliss.

“Can always take a shower.” He murmured against your skin, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew by his glance that neither of you would be getting clean in that shower, but who were you to turn an opportunity like that down?

“Deal.”

A/N: Did I listen to a radio track just to get a line from an old Tulsa station? Yes, yes I did. It’s a shame radio ain’t as popular as it used to be, and it’s a damn shame rock stations don’t play classic rock half as much as they used to. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this! It ain’t hot outside where I am, but I certainly miss southern summers enough to write about ‘em! Thank you all for the countless love and support you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so much!

[venriliz]

Ozan Demirel for @aniraklova's The Yasmine's Desire Bachelorette Challenge

"Good Night, Del Sol Valley! You're tuned in to RARE.fm and you should listen to good old Ozan here, the voice of reason and limitless wisdom when he's tellin' you - take good care of yourself and stay hydrated because things are about to get hot in here! Kiss your cutie, sway your hips and dance like no one's watchin' to this gem of a song - Al Sim!" - Ozan Demirel

He/him

Mid 40's (he's sensible, don't ask him for specifics!)

Radio host/has his own station called RARE.fm

Born and raised in Appaloosa Plains and currently residing in Del Sol Valley

Ambitious, Self-Absorbed, Music Lover

Story/Cas pics/Likes and dislikes↓

Ozan Demirel is one of the most recognizable voices of Del Sol Valley and beyond - or at least he was.

His star as a radio host rose almost 25 years ago when he felt that he was destined for more than being a cowplant farmer on his family-owned ranch in Appaloosa Plains. His family life always had its up and downs especially for him being the youngest child of 8 and constantly being picked on by his older siblings or cast aside by his parents. Due to a traumatic experience in his childhood he lived in constant fear of being eaten by the cowplants, the very thing that earns a living for the family, and at the age of 19 he left the farm behind for good.

Ozan hitchhiked to Del Sol Valley, dreaming of his very own rise to stardom but had to realize quickly that it's not as easy as they make it look in the movies. After unsuccessfully trying to strike up a deal with some of the big record labels in the city, Ozan had to learn the hard way that simply being able to play a few basic chords on a guitar won't necessarily get him to the top. Trying to make ends meet by working at a call center made him discover a new talent for himself though - his talent of speech. After taking on several loans and maybe (innocent until proven guilty!) cheating some people out of their money through backroom poker games, RARE.fm was born.

To his familys' and maybe even his own surprise, Ozans listener count exploded almost over night especially thanks to his distinctive voice, blunt personality and dry-as-a-desert humor. What began as a one-man show inside of an old camper van in the outskirts of Del Sol Valley quickly became a lucrative business and well-loved radiostation with Ozan at the helm.

Life was great and with the addition of Violet, an old flame from high school as his co-host, RARE.fm was unstoppable in the entertainment industry. But eventually things always change, right?

Now, over 20 years later and with Violet gone due to her untimely death in a freak accident, Ozan finds himself grief-stricken not only over the loss of his best friend but also the loss of his own fame. Money isn't the problem here, Ozan has plenty of that. BUT as RARE.fm seems to lose more and more popularity, he finds himself afraid - afraid of fading into obscurity, afraid of being one of many, like he's always been in his childhood.

Seeing the billboards of Yasmine's upcoming bachelorette show all over the place has set a plan into motion and Ozan decided to jump into cold water. This will be the first time people will not only hear his voice but also be able to put a face to it as well. A rather scary thought for Ozan who's never been on TV before.

Is he looking for love? Maybe.

Is he desperately trying to cling to whatever notoriety he has left and wants to use this show to do so? Maybe.

Does he think Yasmine is a gorgeous woman and wants to meet and get to know her regardless of his quite selfish motivations? Hell yeah!

Likes:

colors: grey - green - red - black music: dj booth - spooky - metal - alternative - nu disco - soul characteristics: hard-working sims - spirited sims - funny sims conversation: compliments - physical intimacy - small talk - gossip - jokes - discussing hobbies - discussing interests fashion: polished - rocker - streetwear activities: bowling - DJ mixing - guitar - mixology - photography - media production - dancing decor: industrial - mid-century - modern - contemporary

Dislikes:

colors: pink - orange music: kids - tween pop - ranch characteristics: argumentative sims - ambitionless sims conversation: potty humor - pranks - arguments fashion: country - outdoor activities: videogames - cooking decor: art deco - farmhouse

DL will be private :]

[aziraphales-library]

Hello or good evening

First of all thank you so much for all your work this blog is life saving <3

Second of all, do you have any fic that is about one of them being famous (preferably Crowley but anything is fine) and the other not ? A bit like this fic : https://archiveofourown.org/works/45591769/chapters/114720613

Thank you again for everything you do and I hope you have a lovely day<3

Hi! You can check our #famous crowley tags (and also #famous aziraphale) for fics like this. Here are some more fics in which Crowley is famous for you...

The Underground by miraworos (G)

Crowley has to take the Tube for the first time since he became uber-famous, and he happens across the one person in all of London who has no idea who he is.

In Heaven by AppleSeeds (T)

Famous radio DJ Crowley takes to Twitter to share the fact that he's just encountered the most gorgeous man he's ever seen in his entire life on the train. When he receives a tweet from someone saying that her friend has just told her that he's sitting near to Crowley, Crowley's followers begin to speculate that they might both be talking about the same person, and Crowley finally summons the courage to talk to him.

Rumor Has It by Arielavader (E)

Anthony Crowley is a famous singer, currently on tour and happily married. However, a scheduled tour stop in Las Vegas leads to rumors and a huge confession.

A rockstar's love by The_boxhead (G)

Crowley had a lot of problems finding someone to have a relationship with as the famous rockstar that he is. But that day when he entered that coffee shop and saw that blond haired man behind the counter, he didn’t want more than to get to know that beautiful angel with that cute smile.

Remain Forever Yours by TawnyOwl95 (E)

Seven years ago Aziraphale Device was persuaded out of accompanying his dearest friend to Egypt. Now a famous explorer, Anthony Crowley is back in London and looking for a wife. Aziraphale is determined to be happy for him, despite his own breaking heart.

in the study with the lead pipe by paradoxicalpockets (T)

The year is 1845, and Aziraphale, a rare books dealer, would like to retire early. His plans are scuttled when a mysterious letter is dropped on his stoop - a threat of blackmail from one Lord Gabriel, a wealthy American living out in the English countryside. An already tense dinner with 5 other blackmail victims (one of which is the famous actor Anthony J. Crowley) takes a turn for the worse when their host reveals that they are locked in the mansion, the blackmail materials are in the mailbox outside, and the police are set to arrive in 24 hours. The only way to truly protect your secrets is to send them to the grave. Aziraphale and Crowley must find the front door key and escape...or die trying.

And he one you mentioned...

Release Me by AppleSeeds (E)

When a mysterious man with a rather unique appearance comes into Aziraphale's bookshop and purchases a book written by an escapologist from hundreds of years ago, he asks Aziraphale not to tell anyone about it. Aziraphale wouldn't dream of it - mostly because he has no idea who the man actually is. After Aziraphale learns that Anthony Crowley is in fact a famous escape artist putting together a comeback show following a disastrous performance six years ago, he offers the use of his bookshop to help with Crowley's research. As they get to know each other better and become close friends, Crowley exposes Aziraphale to things he had never even thought of, bringing exciting new experiences into his life and giving him the courage to take risks. But as Aziraphale's affection for Crowley grows, he realises there's one thing he wants that might be too big a risk to take.

- Mod D

[deedala]

🍃w e e k l y t a g w e d n e s d a y🍃

thank you to @energievie for writing the game this week and thanks for tagging me!! also thanks for tagging me for this and also for the pinterest game which im putting down below @lingy910y @gallapiech @suzy-queued @creepkinginc @thepupperino @blue-disco-lights @crossmydna @jrooc @heymacy @wehangout @mybrainismelted @xninetiestrendx @heymrspatel XOXOXO all of you 💖💖💖

Name: deanna

Age: noel-aged

Location: ooohiooo

And now...

What is your DJ name? i dunno, when i worked in college radio it was something about a fish... okay wait yes, lets go with DJ Fishy 🙃

If you were a genre of music, what would it be? whatever chappell roan's the rise and fall of a midwest princess is

What would you title your biography? Wellp

What are the first three things you'd do if you were invisible? i like this idea of sneaking onto expensive modes of transportation. i would do that assuming i had no where else to be and no responsibilities to see to 😆 and i would also rob rich people... and maybe i would go for walks int he middle of the night by myself and feel safe lol

What subject do you wish was taught in every school?  all the important money and personal finance basics that they used to teach but then stopped because it made it easier to prey on adults who didnt know how to manage their credit and debt or do their taxes correctly 😜

When was the last time you tried something for the first time and what was it?  uuhhh...the only thing i can think of right now is a lavender flavored matcha drink that was recommended a few months ago? ive gotten it again a few times (including today!) and its very good. im so happy i know what lavender tastes like now 😆

What is the most underrated city you have ever visited?  this is very hard...i dont even really know how to know how most cities are rated anyway?? i feel like all the cities ive been to and loved are pretty universally rated highly lol. uhhhhh...i dunno.. Heidelberg, Germany? Luxembourg City? one of those.

What day in your life would you like to relive? uuhh i dunno, im going with wedding day because i barely remember any of it, it was such a blur. i would be less responsible and have more fun 😅

If you could eliminate one thing from your daily routine, what would it be and why?  i really love sleeping and going to bed and falling asleep. but i hate waking up and i hate losing the time to unconsciousness. so if i could stay alive and not be tired and never sleep that would be so cool.

How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse?  i like to think i could last pretty long because i am a huge wimp and have great Nope It's Time To Go instincts. Also im good at climbing.

What would be the most surprising scientific discovery imaginable? uuhhh backwards time travel

If you could have any view out your office window, what would you choose? puget sound with the olympic mountain range in the distance

☀️pinterest tag game☀️

i was tagged to do this pinterest game where you search Fashion, Pantone, Mood, and Food and post the first pin from each of the search results. gotta be honest buddies i dont really use pinterest very often and when i do its for random photo references sooooo...

x x x x

i do not know what is happening with that outfit. that is not really a color i would pick but its fine? the mood is pretty but looks kind of melancholy. that last photo though??? oh my god let me climb into there i wanna sit in the cozy rustic kitchen and eat pastries pleaaaaassseeeee!!!!!!

and now to tag in more folks to play either or both of these games!! 💖💖 @michellemisfit @darlingian @too-schoolforcool @the-rat-wins @lee-ow @mmmichyyy @iansw0rld @transmickey @burninface @loftec @metalheadmickey @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @vintagelacerosette @palepinkgoat @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @sleepyfacetoughguy @sickness-health-all-that-shit @sleepyheadgallavich @rereadanon @mikhailoisbaby @mickeysgaymom @themarchg1rl @callivich @softmick @captainjowl @howlinchickhowl @spookygingerr @spoonfulstar @steorie @whatwouldmickeydo @burninface

[hwaightme]

Your fan, Hongjoong (part 1)

(part 2) (your fan ml)

👘 pairing: hongjoong x fashion designer!reader 👘 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining 👘 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if hongjoong was stanning you 👘 wordcount: 5.5k (help) 👘 warnings/tags: language, radio shows, reader is goth, goth subculture, a bit of mutual pining, seonghwa aries rage, san is sus, jealousy, DRAMA(rama), hongjoong is starstruck, reader has her own fashion house/brand, photoshoots, brand collabs, demon line boutta act up 👘 a/n: Hello fabulous people <3 Here we have, the one, the only, the legendary, Hongjoong next in the Your Fan, ___ series! Thank you so much for your love and support, reblogs, likes, asks and comments all welcome

"So alongside your brilliant songs, you are also well known for having breathtaking performances, with an edge that only ATEEZ can do. Could you elaborate on what exactly goes into creating your unique aesthetic?"

Hongjoong looked around the studio. Him and Yunho, being the resident radio DJs, had been invited onto a show to promote their newest comeback, and talk all things creative arts.

There had been a number of guests before them who he looked up to, from others in the music industry, to visual artists, writers, and designers. This was the way in which he had discovered new changemakers, and got to know those stars he had deemed 'unreachable'. Breathtaking, but there to be admired from a distance.

"I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of the amazing designers and stylists that we work with. Really, without them none of this would be possible and ATEEZ would not be the same."

"Definitely, with each stage and comeback, it seems that there is no end to just how much they, and you, can wow the world. Now, there is a particular fashion house that ATEEZ has been collaborating with recently, could you tell us more about that?"

Now that was an interesting direction to steer into. This was very new on the horizon for ATEEZ, and few media had covered this so far. Hongjoong perked up, forgetting the tranquility that he had to normally adopt for such shows, instead letting himself bask in the rays of his passions.

More specifically, your brand. He had known of its existence, thanks to a serendipitous selection by his stylist, before he had even figured out who the brain behind the art was. He discovered the connection entirely by accident - through this radio show.

You had come in for an interview, much like Hongjoong and Yunho, and sat in one of these seats, telling your story. This same man who was asking them questions, had conversed with you. This appearance was like Hongjoong's little moment to connect with his unreachable star.

You were notoriously elusive, so public appearances were few and far between, and this explained why he had initially not even associated you and the brand together. But as it turned out, that had been the point. The lore was strong in this one.

You had explained during the show that you felt no need for your personal image to be connected to the brand itself, as the garments and those who wore them were the real imagemakers. You had also shown a deep understanding of the subcultures from which you took inspiration and, yourself, followed, diving into legends who had pioneered their popularisation over the decades. In all honestly, that had him hooked, and left him wanting to learn more about how your mind worked.

"Ah yes, more than happy! ARNURI is a brand that we only recently started working with, and could not be more happy. The brand has a world view and prides itself on destroying boundaries in fashion. There is no gender, no size, no limit to what can be achieved. It actually takes inspiration from the variety that is within goth subculture and totally redefines what is meant by luxury. I mean, their slogan is 'lead by antithesis' after all."

He had paraphrased your introductory speech from one of your first exhibitions after you had your big break at one of the Fashion Weeks. It had been a solo show, organised outside of any specific season, every detail paying homeage to what had been advertised as 'embracing the darkness of nature'. For this show, you had scouted models among your friends, among the myriad of citizens of Seoul, and used those same city streets as your catwalk.

Maybe the reason why that particular event had spoken to Hongjoong was because it reminded him of the street busking he had done in his early days. The days of when one risked it all for a future that was not guaranteed, simply because they had hope.

Hongjoong could go on, but Yunho's shift to balancing his head on his hand as he rested his eyes on the captain, and batted his eyelids like a Disney princess made him stop abruptly.

Not that the host had noticed.

"Ah yes! And isn't the name, ARNURI, a play on "Our World?"

"Uh, yeah!" caught off-guard by the follow-up since he was trying to telepathically communicated to Yunho to cut whatever he was trying to do out, he stumbled over his words a little. But it was easy enough to settle back in once he thought of the moment KQ management had shared the official communications between the two companies with him.

"So it was quite funny when the brand approached us for this, they actually quoted our song 'New World'. Really if it were up to me I wouldn't even ask for a portfolio at that point."

"Of course you wouldn't..." Yunho whispered, leaning away from the mic so it barely caught, serving like background noise more than anything.

Hongjoong's head snapped in the other member's direction, but he was met with legendary nonchalance. Truly, the epitome of 'it's not awkward unless you make it awkward'. The guy even raised an eyebrow back at him as though Hongjoong was acting out of line.

"That is magnificent, it was meant to be! Maybe there are some ATINY in the company!"

"Oh we wish!" Yunho interjected, a chuckle escaping him as he glanced in Hongjoong's direction.

"Well, we are very much looking forward to seeing more of these fantastic designs, and the photoshoot that ATEEZ will be doing with ARNURI! Maybe you will be able to create some items together? Can ATINY hope for a new line in the future?"

"Hah, I do enjoy altering clothing and really letting creativity run free, but I am looking forward to the learning-".

"Oh yeah, Hongjoong has been a fan of the brand for quite some time, so finding out that we are now working together is a dream come true!"

Hongjoong lowered his eyes and let his fingers flitter across the table in front of him. There went his opportunity to be all slick and cool. Or was he over-reacting? Again, Yunho was unreadable.

The host then quickly rounded off that segment of the discussion, and cut to an ATEEZ song break, in honour of the guests.

Confirming that the mics were indeed off and he wasn't about to cuss out the entire nation, Hongjoong turned to his 6'1'' headache and hissed:

"Let's keep this about ATEEZ, shall we?"

"Why so serious, bro? Don't you like ARNURI?"

That, he did. The problem was that it was no longer just ARNURI he liked. To borrow some fandom-speak, he had abandoned the 'casual fan' territory, and had found himself quite a few clothing items and accessories-deep, and with a bias.

And since he would rather have Yeosang feeding him sour candy than revealing that he liked ARNURI more than he probably should, any joke in that direction was like an arrow that he felt the desperate need to dodge.

"Yeah, of course I do. I mean, we are working with them right?"

"Riiiight. And you are wearing their jacket. That you literally do not let anyone touch."

"What? I like clothes."

"And you keep said jacket in a plastic bag from the dry cleaner's because suddenly you are Seonghwa two point oh."

"Is that not... normal?"

"Rich to ask for a person who spray paints shoes in the living room at three in the morning."

"Hey I ventilate."

"BY TURNING ON THE EXHAUST VENT IN THE KITCHEN?"

"Shh, Yunho, we good. We can discuss this later-"

"Oh no I like your discomfort shawty talk to me."

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. This kid with his surprise attacks. Before he could think of a way to get himself out of the hole he dug, the host was suddenly showing that they had thirty seconds before going live. So he settled for:

"We'll continue this conversation later."

"And I chose Seonghwa over you."

"Choosing violence... I swear to-"

"And we are back! I hope you, dear listeners, enjoyed the wonderful-"

You paused the podcast. So, your personal assistant was not kidding when she ran into your office, waving her phone side to side as though she was at a concert, saying that Kim Hongjoong knew a lot more about ARNURI than you assumed.

Really sometimes you thought you hired her not for her abilities as a PA, but because she made you feel a tiny bit more sane. But at the same time, you were one in the same - who was listening to the recorded radio broadcast right after she left your office, reduced to a fit of giggles, sitting in total solitude? You.

Quite the contrast to how you normally were - zoned out due to exhaustion, brutal because that was how your business worked, or totally unreachable because 'the vibe was right and you were in a creative flow state'.

But this was how you got that bread. And had taken ARNURI to new heights. You continuously sacrificed yourself for the art.

There had never been another option for you - ever since you were a kid there was only one thing you were interested in, and that was fashion. You were that one kid who shamelessly stole (and wore) her parents' and siblings' clothing, modifying it so that it looked more like you.

You had 're-designed' your school uniform which had nearly led to your suspension. To this day you were confident you had done the right thing remaking the outfit to being pitch black - it was not your fault that the school had no sense of taste and had chosen such a horrid shade of grey.

And aside from becoming the 'adopted child' of some goth clubs in the city, you had crashed fashion show after fashion show to just see how the legends did it. You were taken by the stark contrast between what was classically accepted and popular on the runways versus the enchanting amalgamation of Victorian era dress, New Romantic, punk and new wave.

You had sworn to yourself that if there was one thing you were going to do, it was be one of the designers to fuse the worlds together. So you gave all you had to this dream. You had completed fashion school, worked in Finland to immerse yourself in the nation's vibrant, borderline mainstream goth scene, and had participated in many art exhibitions and avante garde fashion shows to make yourself known.

This was your calling. Your everything. So when you finally managed to get your brand up and running, bringing your vision to South Korea, you were shamelessly promoting it as best you could. Sending samples, contacting influencers, knocking on all the doors until SOMEONE answered.

And that someone turned out to be a stylist at KQ Entertainment, working with a group called ATEEZ. After a few exchanges on Instagram, they had agreed to use a couple of items, and let the media do the promotional magic.

You were desperate, having not had much success in the country due to difficulty in finding early adopters of the brand, so you agreed.

Turned out it was a much better investment than you had initially thought. A few members had sported ARNURI wear for a fansign, and pictures from the event FLEW around the internet. Eventually, the clothing was discovered, and your site started getting more and more hits.

You assumed it was just a fluke, but that fluke turned into one of the members, who you learned to be Kim Hongjoong, starting to make regular appearances in ARNURI, especially when it was evident that he had the final say in what to wear - airport looks, more casual events... black-clad, supporting you more than he could imagine.

Inadvertently, he had turned into a motivation for you. He had given you the hope that you could reach the stars if you so desired, and so you began to build up.

Season after season, you worked tirelessly, and eventually broke into Seoul Fashion Week. Your daring showcase of your 'ANTITHESIS' collection had gathered a large audience, and soon enough, you had to step into the spotlight, and reveal your identity.

You could remember it as clear as day, 'She Sells Sanctuary' by The Cult roaring in the background as you stepped out, every bit ARNURI, an overnight neo-goth sensation.

As your brand got bigger and bigger, and you were now leading a business of nearly 100 people strong, you had to become colder and more distant. It was a sort of self-preservation, since fashion was not an industry where one could escape criticism and blatant slander, especially when your primary goal was to be yourself.

But that one idol. The one who had agreed to wear your brand, and then continued to do so voluntarily, Kim Hongjoong, still remained special to you. He was your quiet encouragement.

So when you heard from your marketing and communications team that they had scouted out an opportunity to work with ATEEZ, you gave them the green light almost instantly, and much to their surprise, participated in crafting out the perfect proposal.

And when you received an agreement and contracts in response, you needed to excuse yourself and locked yourself in your studio, letting yourself squeal. Just a bit. And then walked back out - she is beauty she is grace.

The first stage of the collaboration was going to be a nice and simple photoshoot. You said simple but you were running around the building like a headless chicken making sure everything was ready.

It was going to be for a new line, 'PHANTASMOS', an ode to phantasmagoria, horror theatre and the portrayal of all things fantastic, strange and ghoulish. And who would be a better group of models than ATEEZ?

As the day approached, Hongjoong was becoming considerably more nervous, and that was only exacerbated by the announcement that you personally would be attending the shoot.

He did not want to come across as a fool of some sort, wanted to be a serious leader, really leave the impression that he meant business. To him, you were elegance itself, a tranquil beauty in black, and he wanted to match that to the best of his ability.

Which was exactly why he had turned his and Seonghwa's dorm into a fabric skip, with shirts, trousers, t-shirts... all of his prized possessions were strewn around the perimeter and occupied nearly every inch of the floor. Hell, even his customised Doc Martens were lying miserably on his bed.

Just as he was contemplating between a blazer with lines of safety pins as decal on the lapels or a classic leather jacket with more zippers than ways his children could annoy him, Seonghwa returned from his trip to the LEGO store.

Hongjoong had never seen every single stage of grief flash across a person's face in one second. But there it was. He gave the eldest member a sheepish grin, subconsciously cowering away closer to the windows - as far away from the evidently not too pleased Seonghwa.

"Kim. Hong. Joong. What kind of fuckery is this?"

"Oh. OH! Amy Winehouse! Yes, big fan, that's uh, that's Me & Mr. Jones right?"

"I will use you as a broom stick Joong."

"Look I just got carried-"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? PLEASE LET ME KEEP AT LEAST SOME OF MY NERVE CELLS!"

"What's happening- oh Joongie is in trouble~" Mingi poked his head in through the door, making it look as though it was the Teletubbies sun floating above Seonghwa's shoulder.

Hongjoong really wished he could laugh. He really did. But he was afraid he was about to be forced to eat the starship that his roommate bought.

So much for trying to be 'chic' and impressing you. Now he had the goal of making it to the shoot in one piece.

"Mingi. Exit. Now." Seonghwa commanded, jaw clenched, which made the younger member quite literally bolt, slamming the door so hard that the items that were hanging on the stuck-on hooks slid off and fell behind Seonghwa.

There was a mass meeting audible right outside of the room, and a very distinct seagull laugh penetrated the walls. Hongjoong cursed his bad timing. Had he only started early, maybe he would have had time to shove at least some of the items under the bunk so it didn't look too bad.

"Right. You know what. I am zen. I am the calmest of the calm. You take care of others, I take care of you. Right? Now. Wait, you know what I need to just-"

Seonghwa picked up a large pillow off one of the beds, eyed it, looked at Hongjoong once more, and then PUNCHED it with blinding rage, sending it flying right back into the bed.

"Okay now I am fine. Care to explain when you were planning to sort this shit out?"

There was another wave of mumbles outside, to which Seonghwa responded by making the door fly open and shouting out "we are having a VERY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION."

Before closing the door entirely, a quiet comment from Yeosang could be overheard: "they're getting divorced in there," leading to some giggles, and pitter-patter of footsteps away from the door. They probably just chose a slightly different location to camp and snoop.

Hongjoong decided to sink into one of the clothes piles, motioning for Seonghwa to take a seat next to him. He was in a dilemma, unsure of what sort of explanation would be the most effective for Seonghwa. So he just settled for the truth.

"You know the shoot that we are going to do?" he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, I do. What, is the aesthetic landfill-chic?" Seonghwa motioned at the explosion over the room.

"No, not at all! Don't even. You have seen the clothing, right?"

"Of course, I wore ARNURI before. Must say, very flattering. And fashionable. That one overcoat made me feel like a vampire prince."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment on that. Seonghwa was Seonghwa, he had his own agenda and his own interpretations.

"Right, so... well, you know I have a lot of ARNURI stuff? It's not just that... I have um... sort of become a... fan? Of the designer? L/N Y/N? She is just... her vision... her style is just... yeah she is great."

"Oh my gosh my boy Kim Hongjoong actually wants to meet someone outside of ATEEZ, this is legendary, I should post this on Universe."

"What in the- hey I meet people! And don't you dare"

"When, mister 'I don't really have many friends' and literally getting jealous over me talking to Minho from Stray Kids?"

"Hey, being a best friend is a responsibility, and you are my best friend!"

"Oh wait... I get it... I don't think you are aiming for friendship here... isn't that right?" a grin started spreading over Seonghwa's face as he looked like he discovered a new planet.

"I am just a fan of hers! Don't twist this!"

"Sure... okay now I get... this," he gave a judgmental side eye to the pile of sweaters that had made their home right by his display cabinet. "You are like a middle schooler before a first date, I swear. This is definitely because she's going to be there, right?"

"You know what? Yes, yes it is. And I might not have had my growth spurt yet but I am not a middle schooler." Hongjoong said, standing up as straight as possible, putting his hands on his hips.

"That's exactly what an angsty middle schooler would say." Seonghwa looked him up and down, stifling a laugh.

"You are on a power trip aren't you?"

"Hell yeah I am, and I will be for the entire shoot and beyond."

"Park Seonghwa why you do this to ME?"

"If you don't want the others to get the details I have an offer."

This made Hongjoong stop on his tracks and retract his 'leader card'. He did not want to lose face in front of the 'teezer crew entirely, so keeping this information in confidence was enticing.

"Yes?"

"First off, clean your shit. And second, I get that spot on the dresser for the Imperial All Terrain Armoured Transport model I've been hunting down."

"First, deal. Second, say that one more fucking time dude I dare you."

"IMPERIAL ALL TERRAIN ARMOURED TRANSPORT, ALSO KNOWN AS THE AT-AT WALKER, IS A FOUR-LEGGED TRANSPORT AND COMBAT VEHICLE USED BY THE IMPERIAL GROUND FO-"

"Did you legit memorise Wikipedia or something?"

"May the force be with you, bitch. Now you clean, I will go chill outside so I don't have an aneurysm because of how you do it. And by the way, I'd pick the leather jacket if I were you. Classic, timeless and looks good."

"Thank you man, you are the best."

"I know, now impress me with how you can make this room spotless."

And with that, Seonghwa left Hongjoong alone in the room. From what he could hear, there was a circus outside, with the other members having gathered around, interrogating about what had just unfolded. but Seonghwa was keeping his word, for now at least. He knew that he did not have to try too hard, since Hongjoong would probably expose himself as soon as he were to see you anyways.

And Seonghwa was more than right. The next day, when ATEEZ arrived to the studio, Hongjoong was very jittery. Alert to any and all people and sounds, he was looking around as if he was expecting someone - well he definitely was. As soon as they stepped into the ARNURI office, he was convinced that you could be around any corner.

The other members were beginning to catch on that this hyung was acting odd, to the point where Yeosang commented on Hongjoong looking like he was playing Alien Isolation in real life. The reference flew right over the leader's head, but he tried his best to tone his Pink Panther-style snooping down.

And instead focus on the many photos that decorated the walls of your house of fashion. Memories of particularly memorable parts of a show, awards, red carpet events... club nights, themed evenings, collaborations... this was your life. Right there, immortalised in tasteful monochrome.

The boys were in awe of the refined interior - strictly monochromatic, any accents in the otherwise white rooms and corridors were done using the colour black. Although it was not a rule by any means (in fact, you encouraged being as daring as one wanted), the majority of ARNURI employees were clad in the colour, fitting right into the brand and the aesthetics.

They were led up a couple of flights of stairs, and as they were making their way down one corridor, Hongjoong began to catch snippets of lively conversation, the occasional staff gliding a clothing rack past them or across the hallway, and... shouts of 'yes ma'am'?

Initially he was confused, but as they were getting closer to the photo studio, it clicked in his head: you were in there. Who else could be referred to as ma'am?

"Hey, Hongjoong, I think we are -actually- meant to... walk in the hall to do the shoot." Jongho walked up behind the leader, fake whispering, causing a round of chuckles from the other members. The only member who was not as smiley (except Hongjoong himself, that is) was Seonghwa, and it was because Hongjoong not so little infatuation was old news to him, and the room had been cleaned to a very satisfying level, much to his surprise.

"Woah no way, Jongho, that's insane. I was sure that this was a new technique or something..." Yunho piped in, glancing at Hongjoong, lips curling up.

He had a couple of sneaking suspicions about Hongjoong's behaviour whenever ARNURI, or more specifically the founder and lead designer, were mentioned or he was given the chance to gush about it.

The radio appearance was the closest to a confirmation that he could get - Hongjoong getting shy over being a big fan... what a sight to see. But seeing the post-discussion silent conversations between the two eldest members, and some signal exchanges while they were driving up to the venue really sealed the deal. There was something really fun going on with Hongjoong, and Yunho needed the deets.

For research purposes. And who was he to pass up on a ship in the making?

Finally, their manager, after finishing up a conversation with some of the relationship management staff from ARNURI, who had greeted them, decided to speed up the process and usher the kids in.

To soothe his nerves, Hongjoong picked at a bracelet he had selected for completing his 'first meeting and first impression' look. He had worn it many times over, and had even taken it with him on tour before, so it was a little ball of positive energy for him.

But nothing could prepare or prevent the Error that Hongjoong.exe experienced as he finally saw you in your element.

There was something spellbinding about the way you looked. Head to toe in your own creations, you were wearing an onyx-hued Victorian era inspired suit, matched with military boots that had immaculate metal detailing.

He could not stop staring, even if it could be perceived as rude, or too forward. There you were.

"Oh, guys, man down, man down, our captain's overboard~" Wooyoung taunted, shouldering San and Yeosang who were on either side of him.

It really was a sight to behold. Hongjoong, entirely captivated as you stood in the middle of the photo studio, guiding the entire room like a conductor would lead an orchestra.

He ignored the youngers' attempts to get his attention, much to their utter disbelief and resulting giddiness. If there was a definition of starstruck. This was it.

You appeared to have a pulse on EVERYTHING, down to the tiniest details, pointing out that there was a very specific prop missing, adjusting accessories, exchanging one scarf for another. It was the most organised chaos that Hongjoong had ever seen, and he was amazed at how you could keep it under control.

The star he had deemed unreachable was right there. Right in front of him.

"Joongie, I think you can leave your drooling until after the shoot. You don't want your makeup ruined."

"Oh Hwa is this how it is?" he looked at his friend in disbelief.

"I think you exposed yourself enough, no?"

"Ew, Hongjoong come on don't traumatise your wife." Wooyoung was not giving up on his mission to annoy Hongjoong into early retirement.

"GUYS please don't embarrass me-"

"Oh so you admit it?" San questioned, smirking like the devil.

"Admit what?"

"That you are doing some shady shit."

"Where did this even come from, San."

"So the studio then, no wonder you come back from there at like four in the morning."

"You guys are making me lose brain cells that I need to get instructions from the photographer." Yeosang deadpanned, nodding towards the set.

"I don't even want to begin imagining what sort of things you are thinking about, but I can assure you I will annihilate you if you start kindergarten season here." Hongjoong threatened but it fell short as Mingi grinned and joined in the ambush:

"Say 'aye' if you think this minion is invested into this shoot." the way he said it almost sounded like an innuendo, making Hongjoong scowl.

The most deafening collection of 'ayes' resounded around Hongjoong, and caused you to shift your focus to the newly arrived group. He noticed your expression soften, shoulders roll a little further back as you ambled towards them, the thuds of your boots setting his heart's pace.

"Ah good morning to you all! It is such a pleasure to be working with you. Did I make you wait for long?"

"Not at all, the pleasure is all ours." Hongjoong forced out, pushing the snickering members out of his sphere of attention.

"Great, well it is wonderful to finally meet you, I am L/N Y/N, the mad scientist behind ARNURI!"

"Very much the same here, Miss-"

"We'll be working closely enough to be informal, no?" you interjected before Hongjoong could call you by your last name.

Your allure was more powerful than he had hypothesised, to the point where some of the other members, more specifically San and Seonghwa, could not look away from you either - it seemed that you had the energy for attracting demons. The way you carried yourself, poised and courteous, demanded nothing less than respect.

At the same time, there was nothing demure about you. If anything, you resembled a cat that was ready to pounce any moment. As though there was a coil within you, permanently tense and even slightly dangerous. But that was thrilling.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, and corrected himself, "Yes, of course, sorry, Y/N. Shall we do the official greeting or-"

"Let's keep things personal for now, and once my lovely colleagues are done with the final checks, we can get started with eight makes one team." you winked, and suggested, quoting the greeting.

It was beyond entertaining for Wooyoung to see just how putty-like Hongjoong had become in your presence. He was just playing by your rules at this point, without questioning them. But it was understandable, who wouldn't get weak when their type was right in front of them and said 'let's keep things personal'?

"Well then let me be proper, I am San!" whilst you were exchanging words with Hongjoong, the member had time to slip from where he originally stood, and was now almost right in front of you, beaming.

Hongjoong chortled, but at the same time wanted to kick his fellow member in the shins because of the interception. What was his game here exactly?

Ever so politely, you greeted San back, not giving away that you were interested in continuing your chat with Hongjoong. It was second nature to you to blend one interaction into another without revealing any preferences - otherwise you would have a lot more enemies in the industry.

Then you simply proceeded to greet each ATEEZ member separately, your attention shifting entirely each time. You had a way of making people feel like, for even if just a moment, they were your universe.

It came from your tendency of seeing people both as perfect canvases, and as living works of art. You enjoyed the challenge that working off a person gave you, and this was mainly why you wanted to give each ATEEZ member a final once over - to see whether what you had planned was even right.

Each member gave you a unique impression, ranging from mischievous to shy to strictly professional. Seeing as you had never actively followed their activities, aside from their leader's, you were fascinated by the dynamic they were displaying, taking note for who you wanted to see in the camera together, and maybe even matching in some accessories.

Hongjoong was nearly holding his breath as he saw you reading ATEEZ like an open book. You were scanning everyone in the way he had seen renowned critics do while inspecting models on the runway. A Mona Lisa smile, and conclusions no one would know except yourself.

When it was finally his turn, he said his name as brightly as possible, faltering only towards the end as your eyes locked. He swore his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. It did not last long though, as you glanced down, and appeared to be incredibly happy because of something you spotted.

San was taking a particular interest in this silent mental tango, intently following your every move, while Wooyoung cupped his hand around his friend's ear and whispered.

"The bracelet."

"Ah, yes, it's uhm, should I say yours?"

"I guess so! It is from the limited edition MEDUSA collection. It suits you well. And the condition is impeccable though it's been what, a couple of years?"

"It's very precious to me, I try to take good care of it."

Seonghwa pursed his lips, the chaos of their dorm room clouding his vision. He imagined that you probably would go ballistic if you were to ever see clothing being treated in that way. Though Hongjoong did have separate storage for accessories and jewelry - that much was true.

"That means a lot. Thank you-" you turned as someone called out for you, alerting that everything was ready to go, "it's time, gentlemen, let's get this party started!"

As you clasped your hands together and moved away to join the lead photographer, allowing stylists to guide the group away and begin working their magic, San peered at Hongjoong once more.

When he made sure everyone else was out of earshot, he placed a hand on the captain's shoulder, and muttered:

"If you don't ask her out, I will. No hierarchy on this battle field."