#just had an idea for a lyric edit that no doubt is going to flop!! cant wait

[warriorbarnes]

oh.... Oh....

#just had an idea for a lyric edit that no doubt is going to flop!! cant wait #marth.txt

[sunrise-lou]

Stupid For You

Ft. Dream x Reader

Word count. 1.1k

Warnings. Fluff, tiny amount of angst, gender neutral

AU: Real life, kinda song lyric (mostly just a reference)

Song: “Stupid for You” Waterparks

A/N: Just a quick fic while I continue the Techno one, I didn’t expect it to take so long to write.

You and Clay had been in and out of these small arguments, well they were more like minor disagreements.

He wanted to tell the world about your love, but you weren’t ready, his fanbase had exploded over these past few months… not that you didn’t support him! In fact, you had encouraged the uploading to begin with, he had always been such a jokester and basically life of the “discord vc” and you had told him that his comedy would be the heart of the videos and a good start to a career online.

You had just had one of these little disagreements right before he started streaming, that was nearly 20 minutes ago and you were sitting quietly in the spare room. It wasn’t much of a spare room, more like a ‘I need a time out and want to chill alone’ kind of room. Saying that Clay was affectionate was an understatement, his love language was definitely touch, however yours was 100% words of affirmation.

There were now hundreds, even thousands of people claiming to be ‘crushing on Dream’, you knew that he loved you above all else, but it still made you insecure and you constantly asked him questions like; “Do you still love me?” or “Is this relationship strong enough for the internet?” It felt like everybody wanted him.

His answer was always full of love, he absolutely loved detailing how you made him feel, the butterflies you gave him when you smiled, even if it wasn’t at him. The euphoria he gets waking up every morning being able to cuddle into you, knowing how well the love between the two of you had blossomed.

You sat scrolling, flipping back and forth between Tiktok and Twitter, you loved looking at Dream Team edits, they were always so cute and clearly made with dedication. ‘Dedication’, that was just the problem, you knew a lot of Clay’s fans would be fine if he was in a relationship, but you knew a huge portion wouldn’t be.

With how often you were flip flopping between self-doubt and relationship-doubt, you weren’t sure how things would go it he revealed you.

‘Click.’

You didn’t bother looking up, he was probably just checking on you.

“Incoming!” He yells before jumping onto the bed, basically crushing you without warning.

“Wh-WHY!” You try pushing him off you, “You’re heavy, I can’t breathe!”

“Aww Y/n, that hurt,” He tries pouting, but the smile says it all, “Come on, I’m not that heavy~.”

You sigh, stopping your resist. Instead, you begin smiling too and go limp, quickly dropping your smile.

“Hey Y/n,” He shakes you gently, “Y/n?” The shakes get slightly more aggressive, almost in a sense of urgency.

Snorting out a laugh, you let him know you’re fine. He huffs in response and flops down to properly hug you.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I know…”

. . .

“Clay?”

He hums back a response.

“Are you still streaming?”

“Yeah, but I told them I needed a quick break even though I’ve only been streaming for about 20 odd minutes.”

“I think… I think I’m ready.”

“Wait, are you sure? I know I’ve asked a bunch, but I want you to know there isn’t any rush, I want you to be happy with me, here, in our little apartment… full of love…” You barely heard his last sentence, but you heard ‘love’ and that was all you needed.

There was nothing strong enough to rip the two of you apart, if you had lasted this long hidden, surely outing your relationship to the world would be fine. If they were real fans they’d love and support his decisions. One of those decisions being; you.

Clay pushed himself off of you and hopped off the bed, holding his hand out to you, which you graciously accepted.

He basically dragged you back into his ‘studio’, he was all smiles from the moment you had taken his hand.

You stood nearby and watched as he placed his headphones back on, pushing his hair back in the process, you thought he always looked so cute with his fringe pushed back.

“Hey, I’m back chat!” He yelled into the microphone, you wondered how even with the pop filter that he didn’t peak the microphone constantly. “What, Sapnap, no! I actually to grab something…” He turned to you, absolute heart eyes shone from him, “I should really say someone, actually…”

You had a moment of panic, maybe this was a bad idea.

Clay goes to grab your hands again, kissing the knuckles on one of them.

“Hey, tell me what you want me to say…” He whispers, not quite loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

You shrug back at him, you’d say you were incredibly nervous, but that didn’t even begin to describe how anxiety inducing this situation was.

“Come on sweetheart, you know I’m stupid for you. Nothing bad will happen, we’ll protect each other in this.” He had said this in his normal voice and the microphone definitely picked it up, because within 30 seconds the chat was spamming ‘Sweet Dreams ARC!’ and the usual ‘POG’. You caught a few small messages the left a sour taste in your mouth, but you were glad that most were positive.

Clay turns around in his chair, placing your hand on his shoulder and resting his own hand on top of yours.

“Well, chat, I know you can’t see them, but I want you to meet my dream, the sweetest human I’ve ever met.

You scoffed from second-hand embarrassment, that statement is not what you expected him to say.

“Hello chat, I hear Dream screaming to George and Sapnap constantly when he’s streaming and I need a doctor’s appointment for it.”

Clay looks at you, he clearly was not expecting you to back hand him with exposure as soon as he introduced you to his viewers. You laugh at his expression, now pouting, crossing his arms, the whole nine.

“Hello Gogy, hello Nick-y!” You greet the others and tilt your head down to the headphones, hearing a faint ‘Hi Y/n’ and ‘Hello!’, it was muffled, but you still caught it.

You kissed your boyfriend’s forehead and went to lay on the small couch in his studio, you wanted to spend time in his presence and listen to him talk, even if the two of you weren’t really conversing.

As the hours went by, he began receiving donations or chat questions about your relationship, as well as you. He’d answer some and refuse the more personal ones, there was one or two donations that expressed their distaste to ‘their Dream’ being ‘someone else’s Dream’ but he quickly said that you were his priority and that he was never ‘theirs’ to begin with.

The two of you were in deep, red roses stretched from your heart to his and it was perfect. Sometimes the thorns would hurt, but they were skin deep, you knew together you could overcome anything, you were stupid for him too.

#dream #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt au #georgenotfound #sapnap

[pinencurls]

Kiss In The Kitchen

hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :)  Here’s the first...

You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you. 

4k Words 

At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry's large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you'd heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it's finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry's earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you'd met, it felt so private between the two of you. You'd visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You'd been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you'd managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you'd doubted possible in the harder of times.

You'd chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn't you and that was fine. You didn't expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.

In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You'd accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner's rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you'd appreciate his work simply because of how much he'd put into it and how well it'd all come together.

That was easy in private. It's slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry's side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn't seem to go unnoticed either.

As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry's current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.

It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.

You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you'd been together for almost a year and he's told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.

You just couldn't deal with one song.

Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you'd imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.

Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.

- - -

"Do we have any mango?" Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. "Never mind found it!"

You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it's been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.

"When're you gon'a be done?" He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.

He's just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren't particularly public yet so you couldn't really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you'd been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.

"I wanna finish this today so we're both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?" A low grumble and a "yeah" was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.

Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you're flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry's family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.

Hours tick by, you're stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn't quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.

As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry's body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.

Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you're looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you'll need some alone time after a week at his mother's house so you're being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you're back in your London home.

Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry's voice approaching from down the hall.

"Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we've gotta get drinks sometime it's been too long." He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.

Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You've met a couple times and he's one of the most genuine men you've met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.

"Oh, dude and the mushrooms!" You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. "I can't say I didn't guess something was up."

"Thanks, man - like what?" Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.

"Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?" At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You're really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry's love but you can't help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille...

"If I have to!" Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it."Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you"...

Harry's voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you're reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he's moved on, why can't you just believe him?

You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.

"Not going how you want?" Harry asks.

"No, it is just...there's a bit I can't get to work. I just want to get this over with already." Harry thinks about what you've said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.

"Take a break love, you've been working all week you deserve it." He hums against your hair. "And thank you for lunch."

He's so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.

He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you're trying hard to push past the hurt you can't quite let go of and the last thing you'd ever want was for him to feel bad about what he'd written so you'd managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.

- - -

Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.

"Turn it off." You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. "S'too early."

"I know." You love how Harry's voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It's one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he's always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they've come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there'll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He's very much a morning person.

"I'm getting in the shower y/n, I'll be out in a sec - get up yeah?" You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.

Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you'll be up in time, you open twitter.

Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he's wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must've been from this week.

You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you'd stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he'd been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he's asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;

"And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?"

"Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-" You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.

You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don't hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.

"What's wrong love?" You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he's wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.

"Jus' tired." You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry's cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. "Honestly, I'm good."

"Okay..what's the time?"

"Uhhum-" You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. "5.30ish I think..check my phone"

You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there's a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.

- - -

By the time the plane takes off, you're almost asleep again.

- - -

It's 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It's almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.

All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.

You've made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry's bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he's been all day you assume he's already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn't been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven't noticed but there's definitely been a...distance. You're just not sure which of it is creating it.

The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry's side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.

"Harry?" You call out. There's some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you're just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it's a desperate feeling that you're not quite sure how to quench.

"Harry.." You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you'd plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. "Love?"

There's still no response and you're now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.

The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He'd previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.

"Love- oh, careful." He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. "Woah- woah what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.

"No I-I was calling for you..." You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.

"I didn't hear you love I'm sorry, what happened?" He's placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.

"...Nothing."

"Y/n, please just tell me. What's wrong?" He persists.

"No, I mean - nothing happened I just..." You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him...to remind yourself that everything you'd let conspire in your head wasn't really happening.

"Y/n, I know something's up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something's wrong please just tell me, okay?" You think about it for a second before blurting out-

"Would you tell me if you still loved her?"

This doesn't seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don't realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.

"What?"

"I just mean...Okay shit I don't mean that at all I'm just tired and I woke up and you weren't there and I just needed to find you I-"

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" His words aren't spoken forcefully, more...sadly. "T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and...oh God the whole fucking flight! That's what you were thinking?"

"What phone call, what do you mean?" You don't know if he's angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he's got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he's either about to shout or cry.

"With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on...you can't say everything was okay on the flight...we barely talked...we've barely talked at all this week." You're decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There's something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who's just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who's just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.

"No..no Harry that's not it-"

"Y/n don't lie I-"

"It's not. I love your album and I'm so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille," Harry's huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he's leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. "-This album is all about that time in your life and that's fine...Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn't anything to do with anything-"

"You just asked me if I still loved her!" He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. "I don't give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That's okay? But you asked me if I still love her...Y/n look at me."

Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.

"I don't love her, I haven't in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you're the person I love and...I thought you knew that?" He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. "I thought you trusted me."

There's another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.

"I do."

He shakes his head, teary and angry.

"No you don't, if you did you wouldn't have asked-"

"It's just that fucking song!" You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - "I know that you don't love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I..."

"Track 9?" Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you've just rambled. "Sun- oh baby no it's not..."

"I'm sorry I...It's a great song I just, whenever I hear it I'm reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about...what?" Harry's smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry lovie I should have told you.." He scrambles. "I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we'd only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just...didn't. I thought maybe you'd figured it out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about...us."

"You told me you didn't write any about me though..."

"No, I said I hadn't written any you were going to see anytime soon...and that was, awhile ago." He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. "There's another one about you actually too,"

"Harry you, you wrote it about us.." Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. "I thought...what else did you write!"

Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you'd worried yourself over in the last week.

You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.

"Seriously what else did you write-"

"I'm not telling." He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.

"I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-"

"Shhhh!" He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. "We better be going, don't wanna be late."

With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.

There's a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity's back.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fine line #fine line fic #harry styles #harry styles sunflower vol.6 #harry styles writing #idk what to tag i haven't been on here in YEARS #oop #well i guess that's it

[optimistic-violinist]

Guys, we’re getting the band together!

Wow! Another fanfic! This time inspired by the lovely @not-so-innocent-bi-sander ‘s CALM band au, which you can find here.

summary: how Roman manages to get them all together in one place and pitch his idea.

word count: 2500 ish

Enjoy!!

“Mr. Brooks? A messenger dropped this off for you this morning.”

Logan looked up from his phone as he walked into his office and nodded gratefully at his secretary, taking the letter from him.

“Thank you Dominic. If you need me, I’ll be going over the latest mix in my office until my meeting at eleven.”

Logan Brooks: music producer, DJ, remixer, and EDM composer extraordinaire. Logan sat down at his desk, taking a moment to look out over the skyline, before turning his attention to the letter he had been handed.

To: Mr. Logan Brooks was scrawled on the front of the heavy, cream colored envelope. It was sealed with a bright red, wax seal that made Logan quirk his eyebrow. That was a bit extravagant. He grabbed the letter opener he kept in his desk and deftly opened it.

Dear Mr. Logan Brooks,

You are cordially invited to a business dinner at my home this Friday evening at 7. I am a big fan of your work and would love to discuss a collaboration with you if at all possible. Do you have any allergies I should know of? Please let me know in your RSVP.

Highest regards,

Mr. Roman Lyons

Now that was a surprise. Roman Lyons was a well-known actor, having won several awards over the past year alone. What on earth could he want with Logan’s line of work?

But still, the invite was intriguing. He figured there would be no harm in seeing what this collaboration was all about. After all, if worse came to worse he could always decline. Rising from his seat, he returned to the front desk.

“Dominic. Send an RSVP to Mr. Lyons through the same messenger service. Tell him I’ll be there.”

Patton Campbell was probably the most down to earth celebrity anyone had ever met. Granted, he was still up and coming, but he was talented and his fan base was growing fast. Even with the added attention recently, he still loved to go out and mingle with the crowd after a show, signing autographs, taking photos, or just thanking them for coming.

He was enjoying the buzz from the crowd as they slowly trickled out of the lobby and back into the parking lot, ready to go home after the concert. He was still smiling as someone came up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Patton Campbell, correct?”

He turned to face the newcomer and his jaw nearly dropped.

“Yeah, yeah! That’s me! And you’re-“

The man laughed. “Roman Lyons. That was a sweet concert you just put on my friend.”

“Oh wow, I mean, thank you! I- I really enjoy what I do, so it’s always a pleasure.”

“I’m glad. It’s important to be passionate about one’s career. Say, what are you doing this Friday evening?”

“Oh, I- um, I don’t think I have anything. I’d have to double check of course, but, why?”

“I’m having a dinner at my home with a couple other artists. I have an idea for a collaboration and was wondering if you would be interested in joining us.”

Patton didn’t know what to say. “I- yes! Oh my gosh, I would love to! I’ll be there!”

“Excellent! I look forward to it. I’ll have my agent contact yours with all the information. See you then!”

Patton stood in blissful shock as he watched one of his favorite actors ever walk away after, not only, congratulating him on his show, but giving him a personal dinner invitation.

He needed to sit down.

----------------

Virgil was finally happy to have a moment to relax. He had been working non-stop on his latest album and had just sent the final cut to his producer to make sure it was good to go. With a groan, he flopped back onto his bean bag chair that he kept at the studio for that express purpose. Being a solo artist was a lot of work, that was for sure. He had convinced his assistant editor to take the night off and had finished up the album himself. The punk rock guitarist had just needed some time alone.

He was dozing off, enjoying the quiet, considering playing a game on his phone when there was a quiet knock at the door and the click of it opening. Virgil’s eyes snapped open and settled into a glare when he saw who it was.

“I already told you I’m not interested,” he said loudly, relaxing back into the bean bag.

“You haven’t even heard my idea yet!” Roman replied closing the door behind him.

“Well it’s your idea so, the answer is still no.” The actor heaved a deep breath, trying to keep his cool, and Virgil smirked, pleased to get a rise out of the man.

“I know you like to work alone,” Roman finally said, voice a lot softer than expected. “But I can’t help but think that that must get… lonely sometimes. This Friday evening at 7, Patton Campbell and Logan Brooks will be coming to my place for dinner. You’re invited. And if after that you decide you still don’t want a part in it, I won’t bother you further.” He held up a business card and set it on the desk where the sound mixer sat. “I hope you’ll come.” And he left.

Well- heck.

Now he kind of wanted to go.

He and Logan and interacted a bit in the past and he had never met Patton, but the guy seemed nice enough (not that he wasn’t totally convinced it wasn’t just a front). And just the four of them wouldn’t be too awkward.

Or it could be the most awkward thing of his life.

Virgil groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes, fighting against the new emotions. He had tried working with others one time and that had led to him going to ongoing therapy for the last five years and a scandal of considerable size that had taken months to work through. So no, he was not eager to try it again.

But Roman had seemed to cut right to the heart of the issue. If he really admitted it to himself, he was lonely. He didn’t do friends anymore; he couldn’t, not after last time.

He finally stood up and stalked over to the card Roman had left. It was a business card with the actor’s address and (personal?) phone number scribbled on the back. Virgil hated this- this… speck of hope.

He shoved it in his back pocket and grabbed his jacket, flipping the lights off on his way out. Maybe this time could be different.

He doubted it though.

 ---------------------

Roman peeked out the door and into the entryway. Everything was set up and ready to go. Two out of the three of his guests had arrived and were making small talk near the door, but he had to admit, he was quite disappointed that their resident punk rocker had failed to show. Ah well. He poised himself, ready to swoosh open the doors and welcome his guests, when his phone buzzed. Odd. Roman pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.

Running late. Be there in ten. [skull emoji]

Roman smiled. This was going to be an excellent evening.

---------------

“Friends! Welcome to my home! Thank you so much for coming.”

Logan and Patton looked up from their conversation, Patton smiling warmly, dressed in a light blue flannel shirt, and Logan, wearing a black button up shirt, merely looking intrigued.

“Glad to be here,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses. “Are we expecting anyone else this evening?”

“Our third guest will be arriving shortly, he’s running a bit late I’m afraid. While we wait, let’s move to the dining room.”

Roman’s house was indeed quite ostentatious. Dark wood, white marble floors, with red upholstery and gold detailing really made the place seem quite lavish. And of course there was the fact that it was, well, huge.

“Your house is amazing, Mr. Lyons!” Patton exclaimed as they made their way down the hall.

“Please, call me Roman. And thank you, I’m quite pleased with how it turned out. “ His phone buzzed. “Excuse me. Please, take a seat. Our third guest just arrived.”

Patton watched Roman go, then turned back to Logan excitedly, taking the seat across from him. “Who do you think it’s going to be?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. While you and I may be in the music industry, there is no connection between the three of us. I expect we’re in for a surprise.”

No sooner had he spoken than Roman returned toting a leather jacket clad Virgil Grimm in tow.

“Oh. My. Goodness,” Patton breathed. No one could probably tell based off Patton’s look alone, but Virgil Grimm was one of Patton’s favorite artists. His lyrics were absolute masterpieces.

“Sup,” Virgil greeted. Roman gestured for him to take a seat and he chose the spot next to Patton, almost sending the country singer into a heart attack.

“Hi! I’m Patton!” he greeted, unable to contain himself any longer and extended his hand, which Virgil awkwardly shook.

“Virgil.”

“Big fan of your work. Actually, big fan of all your work. You guys are amazing!” He stopped, realizing he had started to gush, and hoping he wouldn’t be kicked out or anything. Roman smiled.

“I have to agree with Patton. You guys are amazing. But, there’s plenty of time to talk business later. First, food!”

A couple servers came in, each carrying two plates, placing one in front of each artist. They were met with a quiet chorus of thank you’s as they ducked back out.

“Geez Roman, you pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?” Virgil asks, admiring his steak, baked potato, and bowl of fresh fruit.

“It does look quite good,” Logan agreed, placing his napkin on his lap before digging in.

Patton and Roman were the ones that kept the conversation going throughout dinner. They jumped from Roman’s most recent projects to how Logan got into the music industry in the first place to asking after the inspiration for the lyrics of Virgil’s various songs. It was a little awkward, but not for long. Virgil hated to say it, but he was enjoying himself.

“How about we take dessert in the lounge?” Roman suggested. The others followed him, Virgil and Logan quietly discussing the pros and cons of various sound editing techniques, and ended up in a comfy lounge. Bookshelves lined the walls, a couple couches were centered around a coffee table in front of a fireplace with a TV mounted above it on one side of the room, while a grand piano took up the other half of it. A small display of sweets was set up on the coffee table and they moved to sit on the couches.

“Now-“ Roman began only to be cut off by Virgil.

“So help me, if you say, “now you’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you all here today.””

“Psh, ah, I was not going to say that.” A pause. “But since you brought it up, you’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you all here today.”

“Yes, that would be accurate.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“Very well then. I told all of you I was interested in a collaboration and that’s true, however what I didn’t tell you was that it would be a collaboration between the four of us.” They looked amongst themselves all thinking the same thing: they were all so different. What could they possibly do together?

“I want to form a band.”

All three seemed to react at once. Patton with a laugh and a surprised smile, Logan with a frank, “Absurd,” and Virgil with a growl as he seemed to sink in on himself.

“Now hear me out-” Roman began.

“Not to be rude,” Logan interrupted. “But the thought is preposterous. We all come from different genres of music and you,” he said, waving his hand, “don’t even have a presence in the music world.

“Come on now Logan,” Patton said. “We have more in common than you think. Music…”

They waited, but he didn’t continue.

“Oh he’s done. As I was saying-”

“I am Moana!” 

They were all left in stunned silence as Roman belted out the random Disney line. It was surprisingly good.

“Have you ever felt like nobody was there?”

“Dear Evan Hansen?” Patton whispered to Virgil.

“I want adventure in the great wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell!” he sung, standing up and moving to the more open part of the room.

“Beauty and the Beast,” Virgil muttered.

“You sound really good Roman,” Patton said.

“Yes,” Logan mused. “He’s not wrong.”

“Oh, ah, thank you,” Roman said, clearing his throat. “Come on, don’t you see! We could make this work! I’ve always wanted to sing, but the right role never came up. So, I thought, why not take matters into my own hands? And you three! You’re all brilliant! With me as vocals, Virgil on guitar, Patton on bass, and Logan on synthesizer, how could we not be huge?”

“So is that what this is about?” Virgil said. “Being huge? In case you haven’t noticed Princey we’re all kind of famous.”

“Which is why…” Roman drawled. “We keep our identities a secret.”

He was met with confused silence, maybe a cricket chirp.

“What-”

“Think about it. Combined, we have the resources to keep this completely internal. To write, record, and produce our own music without anyone having to know who we are. And then we can see how good we are together. Will people listen to us for our music? Or just for our names.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Patton finally said. “And I think it sounds like a lot of fun. I’ll need to brush up my bass skills though.”

“The idea is intriguing, I admit. Assuming we can work around all of our schedules, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

“Virgil?” The look Roman gave him was pleading, but also respectful; whatever Virgil’s decision was, he would accept it.

“You know I hate working with others,” he finally said. “But, I’ll give it a shot.”

Roman couldn’t help the whoop of excitement with a rather enthusiastic fist pump.

“Thank you guys. Thank you guys so much. I can’t wait to start working with you.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #brittany writes #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #band au #famous au #i just #i really like this au ok

[obsessedwithbbandsuju]

Finally

Since she opened her eyes in the morning, Son Taeyeon found that her breathing simply wouldn’t calm down. Her heart was pounding, her head was spinning, and adrenaline was constantly pumping through her veins. She was a calm woman by nature, had been that way since she could remember, but today, she was fidgeting, taking deep breaths, pacing, crossing and uncrossing her fingers, and all kinds of other tiny movements that she normally just wasn’t the type of person with the natural energy to constantly keep up.

Pairing: Son Taeyeon/Kwon Jiyong

Warning: Smut 

_____

oppa: a term used by a female to refer to a male, older than her, that she is close to

Since she opened her eyes in the morning, Son Taeyeon found that her breathing simply wouldn’t calm down. Her heart was pounding, her head was spinning, and adrenaline was constantly pumping through her veins. She was a calm woman by nature, had been that way since she could remember, but today, she was fidgeting, taking deep breaths, pacing, crossing and uncrossing her fingers, and all kinds of other tiny movements that she normally just wasn’t the type of person with the natural energy to constantly keep up.

It had been two years.

Two years since she’d last seen Jiyong-oppa. Two years since he’d taken her hands in his and kissed her forehead gently. Two years since he’d raised his hands to cradle her face and kissed her on the lips, with all the desperation that he was fighting to keep out of his demeanor for her sake. Two years since he’d told her he loved her and would be back soon.

Taeyeon had never been clingy when it came to dating – not during the one-and-a-half years that she had dated Jiyong-oppa (his time in the military excluded, of course). She believed in giving her partner their personal space, and was well aware how much that concept of personal space varied among different people. She could be and liked being affectionate, but she’d never felt the compulsive need to always see Jiyong-oppa. She knew she loved him, she knew he loved her, she knew that they completed each other so completely in a way that no one else could understand. That was enough for her to get by during the times they were separated, times that came, sadly, rather often in light of their careers. There were hard times, definitely, when she would curl up on the hotel bed and stare at photos of Jiyong-oppa stored in her gallery, wishing she could hear his voice and feel his skin under her fingers so badly that it ached. They called, texted, video-chatted, but it couldn’t replace actually being with him.

But those times had been easy, Taeyeon knew now, compared to Jiyong-oppa’s time in the military. And it felt like she was now going to have a hard time even watching him walk out of the room she was in, after the feeling of emptiness she’d experienced during these past two years.

She couldn’t call. She couldn’t text. She couldn’t video-chat. She couldn’t even send him letters when she wanted to. Almost all the contact she got with him, besides writing when they were allowed, was the very occasional news article. She’d forced herself to get by on old videos and songs and the memories they’d shared before his enlistment, and found herself regretting heavily that they hadn’t spent more time together. She had never cried about it – Taeyeon didn’t cry often, either, never had – but the seeming hole in her very being got wider and wider, deeper and deeper, more and more noticeable, with every passing second without him.

He completed her, she was sure of that now, and she missed him. She missed him so badly, terribly, that she felt that she could practically touch the lump of pure want that had been steadily expanding inside her since the day he enlisted. She missed his smile, the way his beautiful eyes narrowed as the corners of his lips turned upward. She missed his laugh, the way he would cover his face or dab at his cheeks when he was embarrassed. She missed talking to him, the sincerity and effort that he always put into responding to each and every person that addressed him. She missed his kisses, the care and tenderness that he somehow always put behind them. She just … missed him so much that she felt like she couldn’t take it.

And finally, today, finally – he was coming home.

And Taeyeon was nervous. She had no idea why and even suspected that no reason existed for her nervousness, but she was so nervous. Seeing him again …

Seated on the couch, she fiddled with the pencil in her hand. She’d spent the entire day trying to focus on refining the lyrics to some possible upcoming tracks, and normally, such things came as naturally as breathing to her. Taeyeon had never doubted her ability to express herself in her lyrics or put herself in the place of a character she imagined to vicariously experience situations through them that she had never been in in reality and express that through her lyrics. If she had to say there was one talent responsible for all of the things she enjoyed doing – art, reading, writing, composing music, and the like – she could definitely say it was her ability to express.

But today, for the first time since she could remember, she was having trouble. Her thoughts kept straying back to Jiyong-oppa, to the date, to the realization that he was going to be here in a few hours. That she was just on the verge of seeing him again. She couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Try as she might, it was impossible.

By this time, Jiyong-oppa had probably finished greeting his fans and was coming over. The thought sent her heart into a frenzy – well, more of a frenzy than it had already been in, if that was even a humanly possible thing.

Her gaze strayed back down to what she’d been unsuccessfully attempting for the entire morning, and she pulled the pencil back down to the paper, trying to clear her mind. It didn’t work. With a sigh, she put the pencil down and flopped back against the back of the couch. Her eyes closed.

The doorbell rang.

Taeyeon’s eyes flew open. She was on her feet even before she realized it, making a beeline for the front of her apartment, light and fast as a deer in full sprint. Reaching the door, she threw it open and was greeted by the person she’d been wanting to see most for the past two years.

Neither of them said hello, or, “How have you been” or “It’s been a long time”. Neither of them needed to.

Taeyeon drank in the sight of him like a parched animal, absolutely reveling in the beauty that was him. He had changed into simple clothes – a plain black T-shirt and skinny blue jeans, a pair of limited-edition sneakers. It was the pair that Taeyeon had gotten him for his twenty-eighth birthday.

She just barely had time to process those details before Jiyong-oppa just threw his arms around her and pulled her to him. Taeyeon heard herself sob, wrapping her own arms around his body and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, savoring his familiar, grounding scent. Somehow, as she took him in, all of him, she felt like her own existence was strengthening, bolstered by his presence here with her.

Jiyong-oppa was trembling. Taeyeon heard him draw in a shaky breath, and his arms around her tightened. “I’ll never leave you for that long again,” he whispered in her ear. “I promise.” Then his voice broke, and as for her, the power of speech had already failed her. They just stood there in the doorway, clinging onto each other as if their lives depended on it. Taeyeon undoubtedly felt like hers did.

After what felt like an eternity, they broke apart slightly to waddle inside the apartment and close the door in their wake. Jiyong-oppa kicked his shoes off and turned his entire attention back to her. The way he was gazing at her made her feel like the only star in their solar system. Taeyeon’s heart fluttered.

Without hesitating, she kissed him, and it was not her intent to be chaste or gentle. Jiyong-oppa more than returned her fervor, his hands going to her waist. In seconds, the kiss was deepening as they continued to stumble further into the apartment. Somewhere in the process, they ended up turning around, resulting in Jiyong-oppa leading the way into her home, walking backwards as he continued to kiss her hungrily.

Taeyeon pulled back, breathless and flushed. “Did you miss me?” she gasped as the back of Jiyong-oppa’s knees hit the sofa.

“Every single second of every single minute of every single day.” He sank back onto the furniture, his hands never leaving her waist, and Taeyeon eagerly followed so she was straddling him on the couch. Her heart singing with joy, she kissed him again, and he kissed her back. As he did, his hands found the hem of her sweater and tugged upward.

Breaking the kiss, Taeyeon raised her arms to help him shrug the sweater off of her body. Jiyong-oppa quickly followed by pulling off her shirt, leaving her in only a bra and leggings. Before he could get to those, too, Taeyeon gripped the T-shirt that he was wearing in her hands. She pressed another hot kiss to his mouth before darting back. “How much did you miss me?”

“Like I was missing a part of myself,” Jiyong-oppa breathed as she slipped the shirt off, revealing his army-trained body. His lean, lithe build was familiar, but the corded, wiry strength of his muscles, wound lazily tight but ready to spring into action at any second, was a change – a change, Taeyeon decided, that she liked. “Exactly how I felt, then,” she whispered, rewarding his response (and really indulging her own desires) by running her hands down the smoothness of his chest and stomach. Jiyong-oppa shivered and gripped her hips. Taeyeon gasped when he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her breast. The heat pooling inside her began simmering.

It took only a few seconds after that for the rest of their clothes to come off, flung carelessly across the room and strewn on the floor. Without hesitation, Taeyeon began to gently stroke Jiyong-oppa’s blood-swollen organ. At the touch of her fingers, it twitched and hardened further. He gasped, his hips straining forward in response. Enjoying the reaction that was for solely her eyes, Taeyeon swiped her thumb over the head of his cock. Jiyong-oppa hissed sharply, his eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

She had a split second to feel smug before Jiyong-oppa’s hand crept forward, caressing her nipple without warning. Taeyeon whimpered at the sudden and stark pleasure, and those whimpers turned to whines as his other hand joined in, toying gently with her breasts, touching and gently pinching the buds at the center until they were hard and aching and she could feel dampness gathering at her center.

And then the warmth of his hand reached the folds between her legs. Taeyeon mewled as Jiyong-oppa’s fingers traced over her clit, sending electric bolts of pleasure arching throughout her entire body. When he inserted a digit inside her, sliding in easily because of how wet she was, she groaned, clasping her hands around his neck and kissing him deeply. His hand didn’t stop, even as he fully reciprocated the kiss, sliding in another finger and gently working at her core, and Taeyeon had to pull back for the moan that broke from her at the sensations.

“Oppa,” she whined breathily, her chest heaving as she began to instinctively grind against his fingers. She could feel tension beginning to form a knot inside her, that little ball that she knew exploded into fireworks when she reached release.

And she wanted that release so badly.

Jiyong-oppa sensed her impatience, and Taeyeon could tell that he wasn’t really in the mood for too much foreplay either. Fumbling with her movements from impatience, she reached toward the nightstand next to the couch, pulled out a condom, and rolled it down his length. Jiyong-oppa took a trembling breath at the touch of her hands at his absolutely turgid cock. He was standing at full attention, Taeyeon confirmed, eyeing the swollen organ in eager preparation.

He didn’t tease, didn’t hesitate. Instead, as she wrapped her legs securely around his waist, he gripped her hips in his hands and guided her down onto him, thrusting up at the same time to meet her halfway. With that swift movement, he was sheathed inside her, and she was utterly welcoming him into her depths. Taeyeon moaned, loud and long, as they began to move together, their hips undulating in primal, raw synchronization. She brought her forehead to his, cradling his face as they melded together on the sofa, no longer sure where one stopped and the other began.

The pleasure built steadily. At first, they were both stable, basking in the revelry of the moment but secure and firm against each other. Then from some point, their desperation took them over utterly. Hotter and faster and harder, they were writhing on the sofa, completely entwined in each other. Taeyeon’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as Jiyong-oppa buried his cock inside of her with powerful snaps of his hips. She was shaking and moaning around him as she finally reached her breaking point, the coil inside of her breaking cleanly. Her insides clenched violently around him, and all she could do was tighten her legs around his waist and moan in pleasure, helpless against the almost vicious onslaught of the sensations of her own body.

It must have been her high that triggered Jiyong-oppa’s, because he pulled her suddenly against him and clutched her fiercely there, a sharp, guttural moan ripping from his lips. Taeyeon didn’t fail to notice that glaze of ecstasy that glimmered in his eyes in that moment as she felt his cock twitching and spurting inside her.

Then, it was over; Jiyong-oppa pulled out and the two of them stilled. Completely and totally relaxed, sapped of any energy she might have conserved, Taeyeon was lax against her boyfriend, who was also flopped completely against the back of the sofa. The only sound that could be heard in the apartment were their panting breaths.

Sating her lungs somewhat, Taeyeon sat up, still straddling Jiyong-oppa, so she could look him in the eye. Now that the heat from earlier had dissipated, the realization that he was here, now, with her, was fully sinking in. Emotion swamped her, and she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t speak.

Jiyong-oppa saw that she was overwhelmed. He straightened, pulling her against him again. His arms around her were unspeakably comforting, and Taeyeon sighed, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m here now,” Jiyong-oppa whispered. “It sounds cliché, but we’ll always be together now. I promise.” She could hear the tears in his voice, and didn’t need to look at him to know that he was crying, like she was.

But they were tears of joy now.

“I know,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him too.

#my writing #bigbang scenarios #bigbang smut #kwon jiyong scenarios #kwon jiyong smut #kwon jiyong

[potuzzz]

Why Bother Trying?

God, I’m so indecisive. My entire state of mind changes on a dime.

At least I can even begin to admit my own faults.

I did something incredibly foolish. I wanted to change the world for the better--no wait, there’s more!!! I wanted to change the world for the better in a substantial enough way for me to see the fruits of my own labor, using my dreams as a vessel. I wanted to be a rapper--trying to be completely unique and true to myself, mind you--and, once (by unfathomable miracle) I became successful off of it I would continue to make music (you know! for fun!) and translate my fame and recognition towards other prospects. I would write fiction on the side, as well as essays, big ranty videos, the like. Maybe some visual art, other genres of music, etc. etc. I would create a movement single-handedly, based on my own morals and values. I would fix the world.

I just turned 21 and I feel like an utter and complete failure. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’ve eluded depression successfully for, shit, I want to say 2 years? Basically thought I was better. Nope. I dumped the previous year into a project, and it flopped. I expected it to flop, but, jesus, not as poorly as it did. Possibly even less successful than my previous mixtape, which had poorer quality, was right after I took to social media to commit seppuku, was rushed, my voice was even LESS confident, I had even LESS friends...or maybe it’s the other way around for the last bit...ANYWAYS.

More, more, more work for a small decrease in analytics, across the board. I even tweaked the style to fit more contemporary fads in fringe-rap. I don’t fit into even the FRINGE. I have a big vocabulary and sense of modest like Aesop Rock and Co. but absolutely do not fit well into that niche of old-school glorification, mellowed out, soulful, spiritual lyrical miracle individual and other bigger synonyms. I have emotional volatility, distorted beats, and try to let loose much like XXXTentacion and Co. but I’m not as cutthroat, too considerate, too many of those aforementioned big words and clunky metaphors, not sexist enough or enough of a partaker in violence and drugs. I have the “fuck the system” attitude of Kendrick Lamar, System of a Down, and Co., but I don’t take myself seriously enough, I joke, I let myself be a little young and immature. I don’t have anyone backing me up because I’m too picky; I want my teammates to share my vision. I’m literally too different, and it’s my own fault. Whenever I like something that everyone else likes, I punish myself, in the name of “fuck the system” and society and everything else in between. I’ve tried so hard my entire life to be unique and I have succeeded. It’s not all artificial and forced; much of it is genuine. And I’d like to think I’d rather be alone and unsuccessful than fake, cookie-cutter, let-my-personality-mold-to-society’s-liking, and moderately successful. I don’t know. I’m just rambling. I’m just crazy, ha!

Why bother taking ANY of my options available?

One option I have very seriously considered is selling out. But I would hate myself. The idea is, sell-out, put the same amount of effort into making easy palate rap, even the South Florida distortion fringe which I suspect will only get bigger and bigger until it becomes to rap what metal is to rock. But I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to write the lyrics--I would have to submerge myself into the culture, learn all the right ad-libs, the right topics, the right similes, the right flows, flows, flows. All the references and shit. I know them but I don’t use them when I’m in the lab. I would have to be fake. And what’s the point? People would recognize that I’m being fake. You can hate XXXTentacion and Co. for their lyrics being violent, morally unethical, sexist, negatively influencing youth, full of hate and the like, but the end of the day is, these boys are doing what is true to them. What is true to me? Apparently, something that is incompatible with literally everything and everyone.

People always ask me, who do I sound like? I sound like a lot of people, but not like, “I sound like a mix of Aesop Rock, Murs, Brother Ali and Eyedea & Abilities,” or, “I sound like a mix of Kendrick Lamar, Future, Big Sean and Black Thought,” or, “I sound like a mix of XXXTentacion, Kodak Black, Lil Peep and the Weeknd,” there’s NONE OF THAT. I don’t share even a LOOSE theme. Well, I DO, and I CAN SEE IT, but nobody else does. And why should they? My music is uncomfortable to listen to--literally partially on purpose. It’s about things that are either too personal or too abstract to be relatable, or things that people listen to music to escape from. People listen to music either or relate and feel a type of way, or avoid feeling or thinking about something with something that’s exciting and unknown to them. White boys listen to trap because it makes them feel masculine, it’s exciting, it’s a lifestyle that they only dream about in its media glamour of sex, drugs, and shootouts. I don’t provide that. Young bucks listen to that music to relate, but, I’ve never been involved in trap culture, neither gangbanging nor even being involved in a group of friends that are a part of either black culture nor poor culture. My latter half of my adolescence was that of upper-middle class suburbia; sure, I had my problems, but it wasn’t because of systemic racism or classism and the cycle of abuse that encourages it. I’m too complicated, across the board, unrelatable, too unrefined, and that’s not just my lyrics, but my erratic poetry+madness&anxiety+rap flow, my still-nervous-and-still-not-confident voice that’s annoying at best, ooo yeah not to mention my lyrics were written to beats I picked both YEARS AGO. I wrote Quick Snack p. 1 years ago. I still have years-old shit I have to record. Shit’s stale. What do I do? Sell out and make music that’s current. But I can’t.

But I can’t just “keep on keepin’ on,” either. I can’t just keep pouring REAL heart and soul and effort into something that I increasingly doubt. When I made “RESUME,” and it flopped, it was hard to dust myself off and get back to work on “QUICK SNACK, p. 1.” I haven’t achieved a true grind of the likes of me in the middle of recording RESUME since. Never even close. I was already hesitant--but still willing to put in MORE work, MORE practice, MORE tutorials, MORE new methods, STILL TRYING TO BUILD REAL CONFIDENCE, MORE AND MORE AND MORE practice, MORE editing, MORE mastering and mixing...and for what? Less. It’s devastating. I’ve been rapping QS part 2 in my car on the way to work, getting ready, but I can’t move past the practicing. I can’t imagine diving back into the booth and staying up on my laptop til my eyes are bleeding making this shit if there’s no fucking point. I can’t work at PTs forever, that’ll just crush my resolve and my self-esteem even more. I’m not going back to school; that’s giving up in my eyes. Same result: crushed. Defeat. I want to not concede, I don’t want to beg for mercy and accept my role in the system, but I honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. I grew out of fantasy; I realized that fame and fortune weren’t anywhere NEAR on my way. But I just expected to see GROWTH. If all of my videos on YouTube for QS p. 1 had literally had at least 100 views each, that to me would be enough growth to be ELATED. 100 views. Are you serious? That’s next to nothing. It’s literally pennies that a cow ate and shit out, that got shredded by lasers and buried in cement. But it’s more than NOTHING, which I now have less than nothing. And QS p. 2 is even LESS contemporary, banger-y, expressive. Shit. What the fuck do I do? And then, what, start working on the next project in queue, “The North American Insurgency,” my debut album that features production that’s a mix of electronic and dark glitch-hop, and features lyrics that are all about knocking the system? Holy shit. I’m fucked. There’s nowhere to go. I can’t even bring myself to 75/25 sell-out/real work, like my mother suggested. I just can’t envision it. Every day, I care about this a little less. My passion for my craft is dying. And who the fuck am I kidding? I know this is not my passion. I thought writing was my passion, until God or the Universe or Blind Fate or whatever the fuck took my books and my outlines away. I thought I really loved doing this--that I was meant to be a boss ass rapper. I somehow imagined myself in the interviews, in the culture, in the movements, in the drama, in the shows, in the everything. WHY THE FUCK WHY?????? I’m antisocial. I hate crowds. I hate people who have their priorities fucked. I’m a pacifist at heart. I barely do drugs. I don’t even drink rarely--NOW I want to, hahahahaha. I hate interacting with strangers. I hate crowds. I hate crowds. I hate people. When they get in crowds they are unbearable. I hate the majority of mainstream success rappers--if not their music itself, than their actual personalities. I mean, let’s think for a second. I really like Kendrick Lamar. He seems like someone who, at a glance, I’d love to have a conversation with. But...what the fuck would we talk about? Am I seriously kidding myself right now? What the fuck, do I really think we’d collab? About what? What do we have in common? As little as I have with everyone else around me. Those successful motherfuckers don’t give a fuck about on-paper losers like. XXXTentacion seemed cool--he reminded myself when I was younger, and wanted to shoot up my school, haha. But I try and picture myself actually being in a room with him...it’s not realistic. Hanging out? In the booth together? Talking? What the fuck was I thinking. Am I really that desperate and alone? Holy shit. I think the clique you fall into in high school determines a LOT more that its given credit. I can literally tell you with, as far as I’ve thus far learned, 100% accuracy, what kind of life people led in high school. Sure, some other people think they were bullied, but it doesn’t measure up to the total isolation and detachment and disgust and unrelatability and holy shit what do I do, just move into the mountains, abandon anything? Be one of “those guys”? What the fuck am I supposed to do? This isn’t something therapy can solve. I know many people who are fucked up past the point of something like therapy ever helping. I never know what to say. If I was being brutally, horribly honest, I might suggest some people kill themselves. Or run away. What other option is there? Sure, you die, and you’ll either be in oblivion, come right back to earth or some other existence, or you get stuck in fire-forever.gov or #eternityhug, but, hey, temporary amnesia, right? Maybe in my next life, I’ll be inconsolably stupid. What a relief that would be, being blissfully unaware of everything. I’ll tell you one thing that other users of this drug usually commend the opposite: don’t do fucking acid. Why be woke? It just causes more pain and suffering, more misery, more dead-ends and 50 more unanswered questions with every answer. My sins and the sins of the world are burrowing into my face and hooking into my skull, and pulling my soul apart in wispy little yanks of hydrogen bomb consequence. Why am I writing this? There is no catharsis. Nobody will read this. If they do, nobody can offer anything that will make me feel better. There’s no point. Fuck, maybe this alcohol from my 21st birthday just is making me depressed (like I know it does). Fuck alcohol. I wish my mom and Sara were infinitely happy. Mom let the world condition her. Sara let herself fall into permanent recluse with coping mechanisms. I’m trying to full-frontal face the world and all it’s ugly weapons with which it will tear away at me, but how can I? I have seen their plight. A wise man would run and, as many have tried to warn me, taken what I can get, and live life as happy as I can allow myself. But I CAN’T. I can’t be happy while everyone around me suffers, while the fucks, the fucking freak bullshit garbage fucks get away with murder and far worse, sniveling smarmers that even Satan has too much esteem to be assosciated with, while THEY get away with WHATEVERz HEY ThEY WANT THE GOOD SUFFER AND THEY CONTINUE TO DO SO. FUCK THE WORLD I HOPE WE ALL MELT UNDER A THOUSAND BLADES OF A BLUE SUN>. I USED TO FIND LOVE ANDS PEACE IN NATURE BUT EVEN THIS IS A DELUSION. NATURE KILLS NATURE ALL THE TIME>, HCE H AHHAVE YOU SEEN THE VIOLENCE OF NAUTRE? IT IS ALMOST AS UNRELENTING< SADISTIC< POINTLESS AND UTTERLAY DEPRAVED OF SENTIENT BEINGS USHC SUCH AS MYSELF. IF GOD IS REAL I WANT NO PRT OF THIS. I DONT WANT O  TO CALM DOWN, I DONT WANT TO ACCEPT THIS AND NOD MY HEAD WITH A SAD SMILE AND JOIN HANDS WITH THE GOOD AND MARCH IN LEGION AGAINST THIS BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIOT BULLSHIT FUCK THIS BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT there’s nothing but i need to be happy there is everything everything is just an experience i am just having ane xperience one which sucks ahah its okay that Noah Suleyman will die a loser that watched all his loved ones suffer and did nothing substantial to help it hahah ahhaha hahahah well well well you’re readung what the fuck have you done to add to this i ask but hypocrite am i to suggest that i haven’t done as much or even worse. There is nothing. There is no catharsis.

[sunrise-lou]

The Romantic

Ft. Lee Donghyuck x Reader / Zhong Chenle x Reader

Word count. 3k

Warnings. Fluff, tiny amount of angst, mostly  gender neutral but there are a handful of ‘he’ and ‘his’, Haechan playboy Au basically

AU: College / Unrequited love / Love Triangle / Song Lyric

Songs: ‘The One The Got Away’ Katy Perry + ‘I Feel The Love’ Tritonal / R5

Edit: I just got home from a closing shift and the paragraphs were all mixed around??? I have no idea how it happened, so I’m reuploading it- hopefully it’s fine this time

❥ - Wednesday 15th

"Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if we dated, rather than me just going out with any guy or girl that asks me out, then leaves when they get bored"

Face flushing as he jolted up from his previous hunched position, Y/n turns to his childhood friend, "Excuse me Hyuck, but, what the fuck?"

"You know," Donghyuck inhales before continuing "if you and I got together or at least tried out what I do so often."

"I thought you had a girlfriend this week?" You mumble back to him, sounding more like a statement than a question.

"I do, but I doubt it'll last long, and you should know I was just joking when I said we should date." Donghyuck laughed in between his ramblings, "We're too close to date anyway."

"Yeah, you're right" You say back, under your breath.

 "Zhong!"

You jump at the shouting.

"Lee! L/n!"

You flickered your eyes up, smiling when you see rich kid extraordinaire and the other third of this friendships heart, Zhong Chenle, jogging in your and Donghyuck's direction.

"Hello Lele," you greet quietly, leaning back on your palms.

"How are you?" Donghyuck basically shouts before you get a chance too say the same.

 "I'm in trouble, my parents are getting on my back about improving my skills with instruments" He yelled before dropping to his knees and pretending to faint into your collective laps.

"Welp, I've already filled my daily quota for dramatic and annoying Chenle events with our class earlier," The older of the three says, "I'm gonna hop over and grab a drink from the cafeteria and visit my darling for this week." Hyuck promptly slides Chenle's legs from his lap and stands, before dusting off the grass from his jeans.

"I shall be back." He finishes, not bothering to turn to look at either of you, and instead just walking towards the pavement.

 After watching Donghyuck walk away, Chenle rolls off of you quickly, almost like his idea was to pester him till he had left.

"So, how did the planned confession go-"

"Horrible" You let out before falling back and laying in the grass.

"He mentioned his 'darling for this week' and he was single on Friday" Chenle complained, rolling his eyes during his air quotations.

 "You've been trying to confess for, what, 3, 4, maybe 5 weeks now and he's almost never single long enough for it NOT to be awkward! Can I ask who this week?"

"A girl from his Hospitality class, she's friends with the guy he dated last semester" You explain, resting your arm over your eyes to block out the sun. "He joked about us dating before you got here, I'm thankful you showed up when you did, I think I would've cried if that conversation continued" You finished, voice cracking midway through the later part of the sentence.

 Chenle gives you an almost pitying look and shuffles closer, grabbing hold of your free hand so he can swing it around in attempt to distract you from Donghyuck.

"Actually!" Shouting as you sit up, wanting to change the topic.

"I want to join the senior talent show, but I want to do it acoustic…"

The 'rich kid' hums, raising his eyebrows, knowing exactly what you're about to ask.

“Please, please, please can you play the guitar for me?” You plead, immediately turning on the puppy eyes.

 Chenle quickly turns away knowing your tactics by now.

“What do I get out of helping you?” he asks plainly, eyes scrunched shut as to avoid your infamous puppy eyes

“I’ll bring snacks to the practice sessions and if we’re both free after the sessions, maybe we could go for ice cream, not to mention practice for your instrumental talents- just like your parents want~.”

“That ice cream part sounded an awful lot like a date,” He coos back as you teasingly.

Rolling your eyes at him, you took your other hand and encased his, “Please, President Zhong Chenle, I’m begging you!”

Scoffing at the ridiculous nickname, Chenle smiled “Fine! But I want those ice cream dates!”

 “Dates? Are you two dating behind my back?” A third voice emerges.

Both of you spin to see a familiar boy, walking towards you.

“So, are you? I’m upset you never told me...” Donghyuck exclaims in an almost sarcastic voice, clutching at where his heart should be.

Laughing the elder makes his way from the pavement and plops down onto the grass, in front of you two.

You blink at him, confused, before looking down at your hands and essentially throwing Chenle’s hands at himself.

“Ow, the fuck Y/n, why did you yeet my own hands at me?”

  ❥ - Monday 20th

“I can’t believe you picked up an entire quarter of the song over the weekend! And then played it almost flawlessly every time!” You shout to your friend, your back to him as you lock the door to the music room you had booked to practice in during your free time.

“I know, I’m pretty impressive, aren’t I?” He boasts, earning a snort from your smiling figure.

“What about that ice cream you promise, or are you busy?” Chenle nudged you, crossing his fingers that you were free so he had an excuse to continue being in your company, as well as eat ice cream.

Beginning your walk back to the Student Services Desk, you mention your plans with Donghyuck later.

“Aww, okay Y/n, maybe after the next session-“

DING! VRRT, VRRT.

“Hold up, Lele,” you mumble, retrieving your phone from your pocket and unlocking it.

 Sighing as you discard your phone back into your back pocket, “Never mind, I guess, it’s a cancel plans relationship this week. So, I’m about to get really lonely…”

Chenle rolls his eyes once you look back at him, expressing his own disappointment in your mutual friend, “How about I pay for ice cream today instead?” he says, awkward smile on his face in attempt to make you feel better.

“Thank you Lele,” you mumble back to him with a shy smile “Donghyuck has always flip flopped his relationship status and I’ve followed him around with heart eyes for ages, but you, Chenle, seem to have been a constant throughout my life… So, really, thank you.”

 Chenle glances in your direction, flustered smile on his face, bright enough to match his red cheeks, you pretend not to notice, but you do and it makes you feel some kind of way.

What you didn’t notice was the pure looks of adoration he seemed to shoot your way anytime you yelled happily or exaggerated a story that included your interests.

  ❥ - Friday 24th

A chime echoes through the ice cream parlour as you walk in, ‘Hellos’ and ‘Welcome backs’ are heard from the familiar faces that work there and you wave back to the happily, after all this was your and Chenle’s fifth weekday in a row visiting for ice cream.

You and your best friend waltz over to an empty booth near the counter, somewhere near the back too, it’s usually the seat you sit in whenever you frequent the parlour.

 “Sooo,”

“Wait! Before you say anything- I actually bought this a little while ago, mostly as a huge ‘thank you’ for helping me with this, but also because you’re also my best friend…” Quickly you turn to rummage through, grabbing a little plastic bag out and from that bag a small cheaply made bracelet  with a locket on attached to it.

“I know it’s super cheap and flimsy, but here…” You finish, before slowly sliding the locket across the table.

“Y/n, you- you didn’t have to. I would’ve said ‘yes’ to playing the song regardless of all your little bribes.” He tries to fret the unimportance of him helping you with your performance, all while carefully tying the bracelet around his left wrist.

You lift up your arm and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, showing off your matching bracelet by jingling it beforehand.

 Before you know it, you’re looking at the same flustered face from earlier in the week, only this time you go just as red if not redder, in the face.

Both of you scoffing and laughing to hide the slight awkwardness of the embarrassing situation, “Hey, wait- isn’t that Hyuck?” your friend asks.

You turn to him, then in the direction he is now pointing to.

“Yep, that’s him alright,” you sigh, “why this of all places.” You growl as you pull at your face to exaggerate you distaste.

“If we ignore them maybe they won’t try to talk to us- wait, no, Donghyuck has spotted us and is walking in this direction, maybe if you look away, he won’t recognise your back.” Chenle chuckles, now clearly finding the situation funny.

You click you tongue and roll your eyes at him, a hand slapping down onto your shoulder, causing you to jump. “Jesus, why!” You yell and turn to glare at your childhood friend.

 “So, you two are dating~” Donghyuck smirks, before also jumping as his newest fling hooks their arms together, he drops his hand from your shoulder and you frown.

“I got us both mint choc and boba ice cream!” His date mentions, side eyeing you the whole time, you and Chenle glance at each other, knowing Donghyuck isn’t particularly fond of mint ice cream but opting to not tell her.

  ❥ - Saturday 25th

  ❥ - Tuesday 4th

  ❥ - Monday 3rd

You shuffled your feet as you stood in front of your locker, the showcase was getting closer, you were getting more and more nervous, surprisingly it had been nearly 3 weeks since Donghyuck and the girl had started going out.

You hadn’t learnt her name, you didn’t think you had to, but now it’s still going you guessed you should at least ask… right?

“Hey Y/n!” You turn to the voice and here comes prince charming himself, “Sorry, I haven’t hung out with you or Chenle lately, Ha-Won has been basically taking up all my time.”

You nod back to him with a tight-lipped smile, “It’s fine Donghyuck, Chenle and I have been pretty busy with our own stuff.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, it was usually comfortable silence with him, but it was different today, not a different you liked either. You just wished Chenle would run up and ease the tension that seemed to only grow the longer you were in your crushes’ presents.

RIIING! RIIING!

Reaching up to close your locker, Donghyuck noticed the locket around your wrist and furrowed his brows. “When did you get a new locket, what happened to our locket necklace you had?”

“I bought them a while back, Chenle has the other one. That’s besides the point… What do you mean ‘what happened to ours’?” You made sure to air quote that last part.

“Matching lockets was our fucking thing.”  He pouts in reply, kicking the ground.

 “Excuse me, a lot of people do lockets, it’s not an exclusive thing. Not to mention, you haven’t worn yours for nearly a month! I don’t want to argue about this.” You turn away, trying not to notice the other students giving you two weird looks and begin to walk away.

Donghyuck has other ideas though, trailing after you.  “C’Mon Y/n, just because I never wear it doesn’t mean I don’t still have it! You said Chenle has one, but I never see him wearing it when we walk past each other!” He yells, grabbing onto your arm so you will look him in the eyes.

Naturally you look away, only to see a smiling Chenle running in your directions, he’s waving his arm in the air and you see he’s wearing the bracelet today. Assuming he took you asking why he hasn’t worn it to heart.

 You rip your arm from your childhood friends’ grip and step back to stand almost behind Chenle, Chenle cocks an eyebrow, sensing the butter thick tension.

“What’s- what’s going on between you two?” He asks with a light chuckle.

“This doesn’t concern you Zhong.” Hyuck spits, making Chenle furrow his brows too.

You laugh back at him, “Ha! This doesn’t concern him? You’re the one getting upset over a locket! It was a ‘thank you’ for him helping me with something I’m working on, but you would know that if you were ever around anymore.”

“I said I was sorry! Okay?!”

Both you and Chenle go wide eye at the shouting, Chenle lifts his am up to almost put a barrier in front of you.

“Donghyuck, I think this friendship needs to take a break…” Chenle mumbles.

“Don’t talk to us, we’ll talk to you when we’re ready…”  You add eyes tearing up and linking your arm with Lele’s, prompting him to continue the walk back to your class.

Leaving Donghyuck standing there to think about his actions and words.

  ❥ - Friday 7th

“I still can’t believe you chose to sing something so cheesy.” Chenle chuckles while helping you set up the microphones for your little performance.

You notice more and more people begin to walk into the assembly hall of the college campus, you knew this place was really only used for Performing Arts and the annual ‘Senior only Talent Show’. It was always nice seeing it being used.

“What do you mean, matey? Katy Perry’s older music can’t be beat.” You laugh in retort.

You dust off the chair Chenle would be sitting in, then yourself before looking up at the almost full seating area, locking eyes with Donghyuck. He smiles and waves, you turn away to test out the microphone.

 You clear your throat and speak into the microphone, “Hello- Oh, it is working. Hey everyone, I’m L/n, a senior obviously, I’ll be announcing the people performing today, as well as next Friday and then the Finale on the 21st.”

“So, first up actually, is me and Zhong Chenle…  I hope you enjoy it.”

You trotted over to fix the mic height for Chenle’s guitar and then walked back over to your own.

 ‘Summer after high school when we first met- ‘

Occasionally throughout the song you would glance over at Donghyuck, each time he seemed more and more surprised, you really hoped he realised you were basically singing at him.

‘Never planned that one day, I’d be losing you. In another life, I would be your boy~’

You sung and finally locked your gazed with Donghyuck, smiling sadly, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

Donghyuck’s look of realisation didn’t seem to settle the butterflies in your stomach, you turned to Chenle, seeing him focused on making this performance perfect for you.

It clicked.

“It’s time to face the music you’re no longer my muse.” You turn back to sing towards the audience, you hear a wrong cord play from Chenle, he hadn’t known you intended on changing the lyrics, then again neither did you.

‘Can’t replace you with a million rings’ Clutching the locket around your wrist.

“I’m glad I never told you, what you meant to me.” You were honestly beginning to tear up a little, but you only wiped them away quickly with your sleeve.

‘Cause now I pay the price’ You turn back to look at Chenle, you’re both smiling at each other like two silly children in love.

He looked at you like you were his world- his universe, you have his heart in the palm of your hands.

‘We keep all our promises, be us against the world’

“So now I get to say, I was the one that got away.” You slowly finish the song, smiling back at the crowd and waving at Donghyuck, who had by now, risen out of his seat.

 The crowd erupts out in an applause, they had not only witnessed a near perfect performance (minus Chenle’s little cord mix-up thanks to your surprise), but they saw two of the schools most notable students fall in love.

You waited for the crowd to calm down, before speaking into the microphone again, “So, I guess it was good-“ Some whistles and ‘yays’ sound throughout the hall, “thank you, I appreciate it, I actually prepared another song, that doesn’t involve Chenle. However, I would like the ask him to stay seated up here on stage.” You tilt your head towards him, and he cocks an eyebrow, still smiling though.

 ‘I've gone too many nights, chasing the shadow of your silhouette’ You’re tapping your foot on the wooden stage floor, it echoes louder than you had anticipated but it’s appreciated.

‘Stumbling through the crowd, feet lifting off the ground looking for you’ Midway through the line, you lift the microphone from it’s stand and walk over to your friend.

You smile at his face being beet red, and hold out your hand for him to take. He stands up and laces your fingers together. Chenle recognises this song, he had shown it to you not even a week ago, during an instrumental pause he whispers if he could sing along and you happily nod.

‘Standing here face to face, nothing to lose, I won't look back now’

‘I feel the love, I wanna get to know you’ He sings, tightening his grip on your hand and you respond the same way.

‘It's not over tonight, stay in this moment, we can hide away’

‘Cause they're gonna turn on the lights’

‘But we're burning bright, no, we'll never fade’ You sing together.

 Once the second song had come to a close, another round of applause sounded.

Both you and Chenle walked back over to the microphone stand, hand in hand, placing the mic back in its rightful place.

Throughout the remainder of the night, as well as the following Talent Shows you and Chenle MC’d together, always holding hands, smiling widely and joyful. Though the two of you never made it to the finals, because, let’s face it- with a performing arts department, you kind of have to be a bit more prepared than a guitar and a love story.

Neither of you seemed to mind though, but it will be a fun story to tell if anyone asks how the two of you got together.

#nct haechan #haechan #nct chenle #chenle #nct dream #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct x mlm #kpop x gender neutral reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop #lgbt kpop #nct #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #nct donghyuck #lee donghyuck #zhong chenle #haechan x male reader #chenle x male reader #sunrise-lou