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copajay · 2 months

Text

how to write a love song

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

masterlist

taro has been heavy on my mind for the last 24 hours and i’ve always wanted to write a fake dating fic so here we are

summary: you have been a solo idol under SM for years now. unfortunately, you’ve seen a decline in your popularity in the last year. sm’s newest boy group, riize, on the other hand, is blowing up in korea and overseas. in an attempt to generate buzz around your upcoming album, your company sets you up in a PR relationship with riize’s shotaro. (not proofread)

date: 04/07/24

scenario themes: fake dating, idol!au, lowkey grumpy x sunshine lmao

idol: osaki shotaro of riize

concept: fluff, angst-ish

warnings: swearing

word count: 5.3k

"fucking hell." you curse to yourself, alone in your private studio. you were looking at the sales for your last mini album. this was the lowest number you've seen since your debut. flopping onto a chair, you opened up youtube to check your streams, then spotify, then naver, and so on and so forth.

you were beginning to become obsessive, looking to numbers for validation. you put your phone down, sighing. looking up at the wall in front of you, you were greeted with your debut poster.

you were so young, so passionate. you didn't care about streams or sales, you just wanted to share your art with the world. feeling a bit ungrateful, you began to gaslight yourself into feeling better: it's not like the figures were that low, and many artists would kill to have half of what you're complaining about.

it didn't work. you felt even more like shit. somewhere along the way you fell in love with stardom. you became used to high-end brand endorsements, sold-out stadiums, and paparazzi everywhere you go. life has changed a lot for you in the last year.

you got so caught up in everything that you haven't been able to produce as much music. and if you're being honest, the only music you have put out hasn't exactly been your best work.

you initially stood out since you were an idol who didn't dance or put on flashy performances but instead wrote and composed captivating songs with meaningful lyrics. this attracted the attention of a nation, and later on, you developed a global fanbase. a fanbase that is currently fighting for their lives to defend your shitty mini-album.

somewhere along the way, you lost your spark. your lyrics which used to be about raw emotion and life experiences now seemed out of touch and cliche. your instrumentals had so much care poured into them, with most of them containing your own playing of the guitar, piano, drums, and more. now, they were created electronically for the most part by multiple big-shot producers.

you followed the formula for success, so why weren't you reaping the benefits?

your phone screen lit up, notifying you of an email sent by your manager:

RE: Staff Meeting

Y/N,

The numbers aren't looking too good. We need another drop, and soon. We’re having a meeting and you can show us what you came up with so far. We brought in the PR team and they're going to share some ideas with us. The meeting's at 6, don't be late.

you glanced over at the clock. it was 4:44 p.m., which means you still have an hour and 16 minutes to come up with something to show your team.

no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't come up with anything. it used to come so easy to you. your love songs in particular were always so easy to write, and guaranteed hits at that.

unfortunately for you, being in love is nearly impossible when you're a full-time idol. between hectic schedules and invasive fans, you can't find the time or place to catch feelings for someone.

before you knew it, it was 5:50 and all you had done was mope about how hard it is to make music. packing your belongings, you headed out of the studio and made your way to the SM company building.

once seated at the meeting, you were greeted by your manager and the PR professionals he invited. "so, y/n. we're looking forward to hearing about any progress you might have made for the album." your manager encouraged, smiling at you.

"i... don't have anything," you admitted. the room was dead silent and you were holding yourself back from cringing at your own words. "I was hoping we could maybe just look at a couple of demos?"

"y/n, that's what we did last time, and it clearly isn't appealing to the fans. they want your music. we need the finished album from you by next month." your manager stressed.

"i know, i know. i'm working on it." you muttered. clearing his throat, your manager looked to the PR team, "since there's no new music for us to listen to, i guess you guys can take it from here."

"right, thank you." an unnamed woman in glasses began, "we were thinking of creating a fabricated relationship between miss l/n and another idol here at SM. his group is having a comeback around the same time you are."

you were about to protest before she cut you off, "the relationship doesn't have to go on for long, just until you release new music. it'll generate buzz and people will be more likely to tune in if they think your songs are about him. just consider it." she pleaded.

"who is it?" you questioned, still apprehensive. "shotaro from riize. the group is still recovering after a member of theirs has gone on hiatus following a scandal free seunghan until it's backwards. the two of you are close in age and he's been an idol for a few years now so he's perfect." she persuaded. you saw your manager nod in agreement in the corner of your eye.

"isn't dating as an idol a scandal in itself?" you argued. "yes, but you would generate more good exposure than bad. fans online have been talking about how good of a couple you would make for a while now." your manager butted in.

great. so you're not only going to get death threats from delusional fans but also affirm crazed shippers' beliefs. as badly as you wanted out, you really did need more attention on you as you were preparing to come back. besides, any publicity is good publicity, right?

"fine." you agreed begrudgingly. "wonderful! shotaro has also agreed, we'll have another meeting tomorrow at 10 a.m. with the two of you to go over everything." the lady exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly.

smiling politely, you excused yourself and left the room. your manager rushed after you, stopping you from leaving the building. "y/n, listen. I know this is all probably really uncomfortable, but I think it'll be good for you." he insisted.

good for streams, maybe. "i'll be fine. it's only a month, right?" you smiled. "right." he affirmed, patting you on the back before walking in the opposite direction.

once he was out of sight your smile immediately dropped. you made your way out the doors of the building preparing yourself for the lonely commute home.

despite being surrounded by fans and paparazzi constantly, you felt pretty lonely most of your days. you rarely had time to see your friends and family, and you didn't have any group members to share the burden of loneliness with.

making your way to the parking lot, you bumped into an energetic figure, causing your keys to drop. the two of you bent down at the same time and your heads collided. stepping back, you looked up at the stranger that had just made your already shit day even shittier.

he picked up your keys first before standing straight and looking back at you. laughing, he handed them over to you, apologizing for the inconvenience.

to your surprise, it was shotaro. the man you had to act like you were in love starting tomorrow. he had incredibly soft features and the brownest, biggest eyes that you could get lost in forever.

"hey, I recognize you!" he chirped, "I was told you would be at the meeting tomorrow for..." he trailed off, the air between you suddenly awkward.

"yeah." you added dryly. "well it was nice meeting you." you pushed past him. "nice meeting you as well!" he called out, enthusiastically waving.

he's so sweet it's sickening.

maybe you're being a bit of a bitch, but your life feels like it's falling apart. stepping into your car, you took a moment to breathe before starting it and heading home.

the next morning, you wanted nothing more than to rot in bed, but your annoyingly loud alarm reminded you of your impending meeting with shotaro. you didn't see the harm in getting a few more minutes of beauty sleep so you hit the snooze button and drifted back off.

unfortunately, those few minutes turned into an hour, and the next thing you know, you had twenty minutes until your meeting. panicking, you rush to wash your face and get dressed, sprinting down the stairs of your apartment.

once you're seated in the car, you're greeted with a blaring sign: empty tank. just your luck. you have under 10 minutes to get to the SM building and it's a twenty-minute walk from your place.

you checked the bus schedules frantically but none of them seemed to come in time. mentally cursing yourself, you began running in the direction of the company building.

there was no way you were going to make it in time. but this was better than nothing. after about 5 minutes of sprinting like your life depended on it, you saw a familiar face in a car waiting at a stoplight: shotaro.

you don't know how you managed to bump into him yet again but you couldn't really afford to care at this moment. knocking on the window lightly, you saw him look at you shocked.

he rolled down his window, "are you okay?" he asked, slightly freaked out. "i'm so sorry i promise i'll explain but could you please let me in because the light is about to turn green." you begged.

he stared at you shocked for a few seconds before you practically yelled at him to let you in. unlocking the doors, he watched you jump in. he definitely thought you were crazy.

and you couldn't blame him either. looking in the window, you saw your reflection for the first time since you left home: sweat beading on your forehead from running and your hair frizzy and half out of your bun.

while putting together your appearance as best as you could, he coughed loudly, "you said you were going to explain...?" he cautioned.

"right. I slept through my alarm, my car ran out of gas, and I was planning on booking it for the interview since there were no buses available either. oh, and sorry again for scaring you." you rattled on.

you expected him to react like most people if put in this situation: slightly annoyed but accepting of the situation.

he simply laughed. "well then I'm glad you ran into me!" he cheered with a genuine smile on his face. what the hell was his problem?

you knew idols would put on cheery, cute personas for the camera, but you never met someone so honestly enthusiastic. you would be lying if you said it wasn't refreshing, but it felt too good to be true.

you arrived at the building within a matter of minutes. "thank you, once again." you turned to shotaro once the two of you reached the elevator. "no worries." he smiled.

you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t extremely handsome, and his kind demeanor made him even more attractive.

you caught yourself staring at him intensely, suddenly feeling nervous in the cramped elevator alone with him.

he kept trying to make conversation but you were completely zoned out, only being able to focus on how good he looked in his oversized black sweater.

your eyes kept nervously flitting between him and the elevator door, and you were beginning to sweat. has he always been this hot?

after what felt like an eternity, the elevator door opened and you practically sprinted out, making a beeline for the conference room. never have you been more relieved to see a room full of PR professionals.

you and shotaro sat down a safe distance away from each other. you’re not sure what overcame you in the elevator.

you haven’t had any romance in your life for so long that every little thing gets you flustered, including being alone in a small space with a good looking man.

“thank you both for coming today.” the same woman from yesterday greeted. “if you don’t mind, we’d like to walk you through the month-long plan of your ‘relationship’” she shared, using quotation marks.

“firstly, we want the two of you to be spotted out together. going to cafe’s, the movies, even just for a walk. hold hands, hug, kiss if you feel like it.” you couldn’t help but look at shotaro for the last bit and you were shocked to see he was already looking at you.

“we’ll call on paparazzi and companies like dispatch to ‘catch you in the act’ and post your photos online for people to catch on.” she continued, nodding at a man next to her.

“then we’re going to make an official announcement on behalf of the company that you two are officially dating. you know, ‘the pair are getting to know each other and we would appreciate your privacy bla bla bla’” the man said, far less professionally.

“right. you two will continue your outings for another week or so after and then you come back, and we will make a statement on behalf of the company that you have broken up to focus on your schedules. how does that sound?” the lady wrapped up.

“sounds good to me.” shotaro replied coolly. “yeah, um, sounds good.” you sputtered, a bit overwhelmed.

suddenly, you heard a loud ping on the woman’s phone. she looked down and looked up again between you and shotaro, “well, it looks like you two have already set the plan into motion.” she chuckled.

looking closer at her phone, you saw an online article showing pictures from just an hour ago of you in shotaro’s car titled “y/n and shotaro: potential lovebirds?”

what the hell? how did those photos get out so fast… and when were they even taken?

although you were growing increasingly anxious about your lack of privacy, you had to admit the PR team knew what they were talking about, people were going insane over the article.

“since you’ve already been spotted together today, you might as well go on a ‘date’ later in the afternoon to seal the deal.” an older man opposite you added in air quotes.

you and shotaro simply nodded in agreement and before you knew it, the meeting was coming to a close.

grabbing your bag, you prepared to speed-walk out of the room and avoid shotaro until your inevitable ‘date’ but he seemed to have other plans.

“wait up, y/n!” he hollered, catching up to you. “i know we’re kind of being forced to hang out, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company!” he began, “what’s your favorite coffee shop? mine’s-”

“look i appreciate you trying to make light of the situation, but this is just a marketing strategy, nothing more and nothing less.” you cut him off, “let’s just go to the bakery across the street, make lovey dovey eyes at each other, and go our separate ways, yeah?”

his smile faded a bit which made you feel guilty, but he recovered quickly and nodded, following you out the company building.

once you arrived at the bakery, you tried to seem as interested as possible in whatever shotaro was talking about, but your brain was still foggy from the hectic morning you had.

“anyways, what about you?” the singer excitedly asked, “…what about me?” you repeated through gritted teeth, forcing a smile in case any cameras were on you.

“i was asking if you started preparing for your new album.” he smiled. “oh. um, yeah.” you shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“you know i’m a big fan of your music,” shotaro started, “i loved your debut album, i listen to at least one song from it every day.” he shared shyly.

well great. now you felt even more bad for being so unnecessarily rude to him. softening your demeanor, you replied with “thanks… i really liked ‘get a guitar’, too.”

his eyes lit up upon you mentioning his track, which you took as a sign to continue, “but i can never get the dance quite right.” you added, grinning.

“i can always teach you!” he beamed.

“that would be nice-”

“oh my GOD, is that shotaro?” a stranger gasped, causing both your and shotaro’s heads to snap in opposite directions.

even though you were technically trying to get caught, old idol habits die hard. dating scandals are every idol’s biggest fear: an entire dedicated fanbase turning on you just for experiencing romance? true nightmare fuel.

“and i think that’s y/n with him! why are they here together?” another stranger spoke up. you and shotaro swiftly picked up your belongings and left, worried you’d attract more attention.

“i’ll-um-see you, bye.” you mumbled with your head down as shotaro gave you a small thumbs up underneath the table.

the two of you set off in different directions and you began dreading the long walk home. you were wearing a mask and a beanie, which meant your chances of getting recognized were pretty low, but they definitely weren’t zero.

however, you loved walking through seoul, especially this time of year. the weather was nice, and the streets were bustling. you used to love brainstorming song lyrics and melodies during walks.

deciding to take advantage of your situation, you racked your brain for any potential lyrics.

nothing.

how could you have lost all your creativity? did your songwriting talent just disappear? how would you get it back?

doubts filled your mind as you realized you were already halfway home and failed to come up with a single verse.

maybe you were lacking inspiration. your life was filled with romantic endeavors prior to your debut, which filled your mind with several ideas for new songs.

but you seemed to have forgotten all of them, and as cheesy as it sounds, you might have forgotten how it feels to be in love as well.

nearing your apartment, you felt a vibration in your pocket. taking out your phone, you opened up an email from your manager:

Re: Dating News

Hello Y/N,

Seems like your bakery date is already going viral on SNS. A pair of fans spotted you two and uploaded a photo of you sitting at a table together. Keep up the good work.

[1 Attachment]

clicking on the attachment, you saw a screenshot of a tweet exclaiming ‘RIIZE SHOTARO AND Y/N L/N ON A DATE???’ with a picture of the two of you smiling and sitting across from each other at a table.

it freaked you out how happy the two of you looked in the photo, almost like a real couple.

shutting off your phone, you couldn’t help but smile as you entered your apartment, maybe shotaro was starting to grow on you.

in the next few weeks, you and shotaro would go on several public outings, getting spotted almost immediately.

before you knew it the two of you were the hottest topic in k-pop, headlining several media outlet articles and trending on social media.

you would periodically receive correspondence from your manager and PR team praising you for how well you were pulling the stunt off.

although you wouldn’t admit it, you were really starting to enjoy shotaro’s company as well. the two of you began texting until late hours at night and planning ‘dates’ without instruction from your team.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to feel a bit attached to him but you reminded yourself that this was simply a work thing. besides, it’s not like he’s interested anyway… right?

you couldn’t read shotaro at all. he always had a sweet smile plastered on his face and seemed excited about everything and anything.

weirdly, you felt your writing ability start to come back slowly as well.. but it obviously has nothing to do with shotaro!

it’s just a coincidence that you draw on your memories of him to come up with lyrics; that you describe his mannerisms to a T in your potential choruses and scribble about how he makes you feel in your notebook on your off-days.

yup! definitely just a coincidence.

“y’know i used to love these growing up,” shotaro shared as the two of you stood at a street food stall indulging in dango.

“you must miss japan a lot, huh?” you asked, staring at the side of his face. his expression faltered slightly.

“of course i do, but i’m glad i chased after my dreams. it sounds cliché but it paid off. i get to do what i love, even if i’m hundreds of miles away from home.” he replied softly.

you don’t know what it was, but in that moment you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. you stared at his lips for a few moments before he caught on.

“do i have something on my face..?” he questioned, raising a finger to wipe his mouth.

you leaned in, centimeters away from touching your lips with his when he stepped back.

shit. way to go, y/n.

“sorry, i just- i don’t think we should…” he stammered,

“no, i’m sorry. i don’t know what came over me. we-i should go.” you said awkwardly, biting your lip.

you headed off before he could reply, mentally cursing at the world and wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

how could you let your guard down like that and embarrass yourself?

that night, you didn’t receive a single text from him like you usually do, so you tried reaching out.

no response.

every time you contacted him afterwards or tried to set up another ‘date’ he would flake last minute or respond dryly until he full-on ghosted you.

you stopped heading out together and your manager seemed content with it as you had already generated enough anticipation for your comeback.

the next time you saw him would be at a company meeting, discussing the end of your ‘relationship’.

you zoned out the entire meeting, barely hearing anything coming out of anyone’s mouth. you focused on trying not to look at shotaro and keeping your thoughts preoccupied so you felt less embarrassed just being in his presence.

your manager briefed you on the contents of the meeting afterwards, sharing that all you had to do was release a joint statement that confirmed you were now broken up.

“it’s easy enough, you mostly leave it to the social media managers. just send them your virtual signature and be sure to post it on your instagram as soon as possible. got it?” the man asked.

you nodded wordlessly with your head still in the clouds. for the first time in a long time your mind was filled with new ideas for lyrics, ranging from lovestruck to heartbroken to enraged.

you opted to walk home that day, even taking the longer route, furiously typing in your notes app and recording several voice notes on the way. you must’ve looked insane to everyone else around you but you didn’t care.

if you couldn’t get your mind off shotaro, you’d at least make it work in your favor. that night, you wrote an impressive 10 drafts of different songs, staying up until late and getting up early the next morning to head to the studio.

you drowned yourself in your work, hoping you’d forget about the boy whose presence was still all around you in both your thoughts and lyrics.

eventually, you refined and recorded all 10 songs, ready to release them in your new album.

shortly before your album announcement, you posted your official ‘breakup’ statement, feeling empty as you tapped on your screen.

you never would’ve predicted the somewhat annoying and yet incredibly charming guy that you were forced into a relationship with would haunt you this much.

you even found yourself looking through old posts and articles about the two of you, reminiscing on your time as a fake couple.

it stung knowing it was completely one-sided, and it stung even more knowing you could’ve still had him as a friend if you didn’t stupidly act on impulse.

you saw him here and there entering and leaving the SM building and the two of you would share a polite smile and bow before rushing off.

the response to your breakup announcement was unprecedented, and the amount of people heartbroken for the both of you took you by surprise.

riizeandrealize: ‘love isn’t real after all 💔💔’

y/n4eva: ‘at least we know the new album is gonna hit’

y/ntaro: ‘NOOO MY PARENTS’

tarosho28: ‘awww… so that means shotaro’s single again? 😁’

scrolling through the comments absentmindedly, one in specific caught your attention:

user1129399: ‘she always seemed more into him than he did. he’s probably the one that broke it off’

you felt hot with rage, what does a stupid netizen on the internet know? and why is their comment making you so upset?

maybe because they were partially right. you obviously were more into him or he would’ve been more receptive to your humiliating attempt at a kiss.

your album was set to come out in a week and you had a set track list recorded and ready.

and yet, you felt compelled to add one more song.

you went to work immediately, writing so fast your words were barely legible but you could read it perfectly fine.

you wrote as intensely and specifically as you could about everything—from your first encounter to your last. you tried to keep your other songs vague enough to avoid any suspicion on shotaro’s part about the subject of the lyrics, but you didn’t care anymore.

you were in love with osaki shotaro and you needed to express it in the only way you know how.

“are you insane?” your manager’s voice boomed over the line.

“it’s already recorded, and i have the backing vocals done too. i just need one more day to get the production team together and it’ll be done and ready to add to the album.” you pleaded.

“fine.” he sighed, “this better be worth it.”

“it will be.” at this point you weren’t sure if you were assuring him or yourself.

this was your most personal and emotional piece of work yet, and you were worried shitless about what response it would receive.

luckily for you, it did amazing on the charts and with your fans. in fact, your fanbase almost doubled in size and you were experiencing even more success than you were already.

unluckily for you, you still felt like shit.

your life felt empty without shotaro in it and no amount of fans, cameras, or praise could fill that void.

as you were preparing to go out onto stage for a music show, you ran into a familiar figure heading out of the green room.

of course it was none other than the one person you have been thinking about nonstop for the past month, wrote an entire album about, and the same guy who probably cringes every time he hears it play on the radio.

you gave him a polite smile before rushing towards the hair and makeup room.

“wait. y/n, can we talk real quick?” he began nervously.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

“y/n?” he repeated, snapping you back to reality.

“yes. of course.” you responded, trying to sound as collected as possible.

“i-uh listened to your new album. it’s amazing. i loved track 11 the most.” he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

of course you liked that track, it’s obviously about you.

“thanks! is that all?” you rushed, preparing to sprint away at any moment.

“no! honestly, i wanted to apologize for the way things ended.” he confessed,

you knew how this was going to end. he was going to give you some bullshit excuse for ghosting you instead of just telling you he wasn’t interested and waste 5 minutes of your time.

but you don’t have 5 minutes to waste. you need to get up on stage and sing about how bad he hurt you.

pathetic, but at least you’re self aware.

“save it. i know you don’t feel the same way and that’s fine. but you could’ve at least told me. you didn’t have to shut me out, I thought we were friends at the very least.” you exploded, suddenly feeling a burst of adrenaline.

“but y/n-”

“and i’m not in the mood for excuses. you had a month to think of a good excuse but i guess there just isn’t one. you know i just hope you can take this experience and learn to never do this to some other girl because-”

“y/n you’re not listening to me.”

“why should i? you didn’t bother listening to me when i called you all those times. and about track 11, yes it’s about you. the whole fucking album is about you and i bet you already knew that-”

your petty rant was cut short when you felt something press gently against your lips… but he definitely wasn’t kissing you.

oh my god. did he just physically shush me? he carefully removed his finger from it’s place in front of your now-closed lips.

“did you just shush me?! have you lost your damn mind-” you began again,

“y/n!” he practically yelled, now gaining the attention from several staff members.

“i know what i did was shitty and I’m sorry. you’re right, i shouldn’t have ghosted you. but it’s not because i didn’t feel the same way. i’ve loved you for a while now.”

your jaw dropped, along with several eavesdropper’s jaws throughout the now dead-silent hallway.

“i was scared that you didn’t see me in that way but when i found out that you did… i panicked. i was too scared to tell you how i felt and i know i’m an idiot for it.” he looked down. “i’m not going to beg you to take me back or anything, but can we at least go back to the way we were? friends?”

“y/n, you need to get to hair and makeup NOW! you’re running out of time before your performance!” a staff member called out before you could respond, dragging you away.

well great. now you have to pretend everything’s alright and sing a little song on stage when your whole world has been flipped upside down.

as you sat in the makeup chair, you pondered over what would happen if you did agree to start over with shotaro, would you be happy?

before you knew it, you were on stage facing a crowd full of people staring right at you. you usually wouldn’t mind, you’re an idol after all. but the whole situation was just overstimulating you.

luckily the backtrack began playing before you could overthink and you were able to escape from reality for a few minutes to sing and perform.

you missed this feeling. you missed staying up writing, listening proudly to your new music you poured your heart into, and giving your all on stage every performance.

at the end of your song, the crowd erupted into cheers. you looked onto all the banners with your name and face plastered onto them gratefully.

whether you liked it or not, shotaro brought your spark back. yes it caused you immense pain and suffering, but it also gave you moments of joy, including the one you were experiencing right now.

once you wrapped up, you headed backstage, surprised to see shotaro standing by the monitor. was he watching your performance?

“i made up my mind.” you announced, walking up to him.

“are you sure you don’t need more time?” he asked, nervous.

“you’re a dumbass for what you did,” you started, noting how his face fell, “but i’d be an even bigger dumbass to pretend i don’t want to be with you.”

the contagious smile you’re used to seeing slowly reappeared on his face, causing you to slowly smile as well before you quickly corrected yourself.

“but… i want a proper apology. maybe you could give me one at the bakery tomorrow morning?” you mused.

“it’s a date.” he responded warmly.

#kpop reactions #kpop scenario #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #shotaro #osaki shotaro #nct u #shotaro x reader #riize reactions #riize scenarios

117 notes · View notes

soxcietyy · 5 months

Text

Addicted to you

Yuta x reader Aged up

Two academics rivals see eachother at a frat party. Little does the other person know how badly he wanted you.

It takes him not even a second to recognize you by the faint sound of your laugh. Even with the loud music blaring into his ears he wouldn’t be able to miss such a sound. His eyes scanned the room full of people as he searched for you. Looking at every person until he found those beautiful eyes of yours. There you were, standing in thoes dirty tennis shoes you always wore. Standing in a cute tight dress that suited you perfectly. With a red solo cup in your hand as you laughed and danced with your friends.

"Yuta! Pass me the bottle next to you." Someone yelled trying to get his attention.

He grabbed the closest alcohol bottle and handed it to whoever asked for it. He didn’t bother to turn to look at them because he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you as much as he wanted to. He was surprised to see you here. A person who was an academic achiever, who wouldn’t be caught dead at a frat party. Someone who held themselves at such a high standard and would supposedly never snoop down so low. What could you doing here at all places? Especially on a school night.

His breath hitched when the both of you made eye contact from across the room. Your bright eyes quickly turning into glaring ones.

The both of you had some sort of rivalry going on. An academic rivalry if he had to be exact. Both of you had a few of the same classes together due to you guys being in the same major. You and Yuta were the top in all the classes you shared. Sometimes you would score higher or sometimes it was the other way around. This all started since high school and it carried out to junior year in college.

It didn’t help that your teachers would put you guys up against each other every time. He remembered how back then you guys were best friends. You would go out to eat, hang out, and study together. Now every time you were near each other tension could be sensed. If he had to be honest he hated it. He missed how you guys used to be and missed being around you. Everything about you was so perfect and yet you hated his guts.

Why did people have to put you up against each other? Why did they have to convince you that he was a bad guy.

He wanted to show you how much you meant to him. How much he thinks about you daily. How much he misses you and needs you so badly because he’s never met anyone like you. He didn’t want anyone but you.

He would ask around to figure out the classes you were going to take. Your schedule for the semester, when you would go out to eat or go to the library. He made sure that you would know he was also there but make it seem like a coincidence.

You had no idea how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

He lazily threw his head back as he took a shot that his friend handed to him. Hopefully it was enough to give him some courage to approach you. When everything went down he threw the cup onto the table and started making his way to you. Maybe the shot was a bad idea because he had already been drinking for a while. Plus he was already feeling it by the time he made to you.

You didn’t seem to notice him until your friends tapped your shoulder. When you did you frowned at the sight of him. He looked at you with his dark eyes intensely before stumbling a bit. You roll your eyes realizing he was drunk.

"Go back from where you came from Yuta. Dont tell me you came to boast about your recent exam grade. I don’t have time for you to ruin my night." You say as you turn back around to your friends.

Your scent hit him as you turned around making him want you more. Fuck a drug or alcohol addiction, your scent was his worst addiction and he was afraid he would act up because of it. Sadly the alcohol in his system made him act upon his thoughts. He wrapped his arms around you as he buried his face into the back of your head. He took a big whiff of your smell as your body suddenly tensed.

"Yuta?! What do you think you’re doing?” You say as you try to get his arms to release you.

"M’ so sorry, I don’t want to ruin your night but I need you so bad." He said as he hugged you tighter.

You could hear as your friend giggled and awed about Yutas actions. You had no idea if he was drunk or accidentally got something slipped into his drink. He must be confusing you for some other chick because when would Yuta Okkotsu be interested in you?

You somehow manage to slip out of his arms and grab him by the face.

"You want me to call you an Uber? You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow when you find out that you were saying all this stuff to me. Can’t believe you mistook me for someone else." You say as you pull out your phone.

Your eyes were forced to look back up while trying to get onto the Uber app. He looked at your face for what seemed like a minute trying to figure out who you were.

"No, I could never mistake y/n" he said as he swayed a bit.

You looked at him stunned at what just came out his mouth. Before you could say anything he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. It was a long kiss that turned into a full on make out session. You could taste the drinks that he had been consuming tonight. You could also taste how desperate he was to be kissing you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. One of his hands grabbing onto your chin so he could have you in the perfect possession.

You melted into his embrace as the kissing kept going. He was going at it non stop until you pushed him away from a breath of fresh air. When you did he decided you attacked your neck by smooching all over it.

"Oh he’s so going to be embarrassed tomorrow." You heard your friend say only to realize that she had recorded the whole interaction.

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mirisss · 5 months

Text

Enhypen reaction to their gf's solo debut

The New Kard part 2, part 1 can be found ~ here ~

Pairing: Enhypen OT7 x idol! (Y/n)

Wordcount ≈ 1.1k

Warnings: People sending some hate to (Y/n), a tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff

Summary: In a world where the Kard we know today doesn’t exist, a new Kard is created. “The new Kard” = (Y/n) - 02 liner dating Enhypen, Keeho (P1harmony), Ricky (ZB1), & Yunjin (Lesserafim). After The New Kard made their debut with Cake, the promotions for the song were over. However, (Y/n) still had much to do as she prepared for her solo debut.

Authors note: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it even if I couldn’t fulfill everything in your request.

Request by 🍮 - anon

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

The New Kard’s debut was quite a success. Everyone was talking about it. The MV received a lot of views and the rookie group even got a win on one of the music shows. Thousands of videos went viral of moments where the group hung out, performed, or joked around on variety shows. (Y/n) became particularly popular, netizens loving her stage presence and personality. Her group and her boyfriends were all so happy about their successful debut.

Once promotions were over for Cake, the company booked a meeting with (Y/n), telling her that she would be making her solo debut after they saw how popular she was. (Y/n) was incredibly happy, she decided that it should come as a surprise for everyone, they wouldn’t find out until the info was posted. (Y/n)’s groupmates Keeho, Yunjin, and Ricky were all busy working as MCs or acting in a drama. Enhypen was busy preparing and then promoting their newest album, Dark Blood with the title track Bite Me.

(Y/n) was working hard and tried her best to hide the fact that she was preparing for her solo debut. Her title track was just her style, she loved it. The styling was top-tier, the MV shooting had been a lot of fun, and she truly hoped the song would be a hit. Her friends and boyfriends were so busy with their own work that they missed the post announcing that (Y/n) would be debuting as a soloist in 3 weeks. Her debut album became one of the most-bought debut albums of all time. The fans seemed super excited for (Y/n).

The day of her debut was finally here, (Y/n)’s MV was just posted, and thousands of views rolled in within seconds. It wasn’t until that day when the MV was released, that Enhypen found out that their girlfriend was debuting as a soloist, or well she now was a soloist as well. They watched the MV, mesmerized by her dance moves and her beautiful voice. The second it was over they called (Y/n), who answered, expecting them to have found out by now. “(Y/n)! You’re a soloist now!?! Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake along with Sunoo exclaimed loudly. “Surprise!” (Y/n) chuckled, nervous to hear their opinions. “Can you come over or should we come to you?” Heesung asked, wanting to congratulate her in person and not just over the phone. “Uh, hold on,” They heard a low mumble in the background, probably (Y/n) asking her manager when she could meet with her boyfriends. “I can head over to your place in 2 hours,” “See you then, miss you, love you” Sunghoon began saying goodbye, and as he came to the last part all the boys joined in.

2 hours later, (Y/n) was knocking on Enhypen’s door. Jungwon opened the door, a silly smile on his face as he basically threw himself on the girl, hugging her tightly. “(Y/n)!” Jay shouted happily from the living room. Jungwon released her from his hug after a minute, allowing her to step inside and close the door, they walked over to the living room. The other six boys stood there, with a cake and a banner that read “Congratulations honey,” Which they all also said once (Y/n) had noticed the banner behind them. “Thank you,” Everyone was smiling as love-sick teenagers as they sat down together, eating some of the cake and talking about everything. The boys told (Y/n) about everything they loved about the song, the MV, and the dance.

A little later, (Y/n) opened up her Instagram, checking some of the comments people were posting under her latest post, the one with the announcement of the MV’s release. Many comments complimented her and congratulated her for her fast solo debut. However, her happy feelings and smile soon disappeared as she found hundreds of people writing their dismay and dislike of the song and the choreography, saying that (Y/n) should have done better. Her heart fell as she found people writing that they regretted buying her album. Niki noticed the way (Y/n)’s smile disappeared, he scooted closer to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He glanced down at her phone, finding her reading comments. “Hey, what’s wrong?” The others noticed the scene once they heard the maknae’s voice.

“People are disappointed, I should have done better,” “Oh darling, no, you were amazing, they’re just being haters for the hell of it,” Jay said, also coming over to comfort (Y/n). “They hate the song and/or the choreo, saying it’s not my style and it was just a waste of money for the company,” “Do you like the song?” Jungwon asked, “Of course, I love it,” “Do you like the choreo?” He then asked, “Yes, it’s something I’ve dreamt of doing,” “That’s all that matters then. It wasn’t a waste of money or a disappointment if you love it, then it was a success,” “Wonnie,” “Hey, look, we’re so proud of you, your members are so proud too! And real fans will love it too!” Sunoo said, giving (Y/n) a bright smile, his eyes crinkling up along with it, something (Y/n) loved about Sunoo, his true smile was cute and sweet.

“Please teach me the dance? I want to be prepared for the dance challenges for tiktok,” Niki said, Sunghoon and Jake immediately stood up to learn the dance too. No matter what happens, as long as (Y/n) has Enhypen, she will continue to smile and be strong. Within seconds of standing up and trying to teach the boys her choreo, she was smiling and laughing. Completely forgetting about the hate she had received.

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bobbin-buckley · 4 months

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That Girl Is Mine

Tara Carpenter x Saxophoneplayer!Fem!Reader

Summary: You play saxophone with a band called “Sweaters In Fall”, you and another girl plus three other guys are in it. You’re girlfriend Tara comes to see your biggest concert at the Radio City Music Hall (NYC), after the concert things do seem to work with you in the band

Warnings: Fluff, Cat-Calling, Little bit of blood, Pervert, sexual mentions, lots of cursing, some punching

Y/F/B: Your Favorite Band

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the night before you and your bands performance at the Radio Music Hall.

You were very nervous, it was unusual for you to be this nervous. It wasn’t because of the people but it was because your girlfriend was coming to watch with her friends and her older sister Sam.

Not that you were scared of Tara being there, you were excited that the dark brunette and her friends were coming, it was just Sam.

Sam never really liked you, she had her suspicions. You respected that since after what they’ve gone through was tragic. This special night wasn’t just about winning an award to you but it meant to prove yourself worthy for Tara, you wanted Sam to see your talent and maybe she’ll like you. Maybe….

“Yo Y/n! What’s got ya all worked up?” Your bandmate Damien asked, he was a nice guy, he was a tall lengthy black man about in his middle twenties. “You’re not all pumped up like you normally are during rehearsal.”

“Just nervous I guess…” “Nonsense! You’re never nervous!” Kayleen hyped. Kayleen was your best friend, you guys were pretty close she was the reason why you joined the band. Damien and the other two guys were a little eh about another Saxophone player joining, but the raven hair just glared at them and had you join. You were the high voice of the group, the great Alto Sax player.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you seem so low right now and you’re the loudest person normally.” Pip spoke, Pip was your 3rd favorite of the group. He was pretty quiet the majority of the time but he indeed was a fantastic Trumpet player. ‘Pip the Pipet’ Damien gave him the nickname, Pip hated it but he’s adjusted to it now since it sticks with him.

You all had nicknames, yours was Sexy Sax (boy you hate it but at this point you don’t care, Tara teases you about it), Kayleen’s was Sax Positive, every time you hear that nickname you can’t help but laugh a little. Damien’s is Damn Keyboard (idk) as he played keyboard in the band. Last but not least Dan…

you hated Dan oh boy, if you were to go ghostface he’d be the reason.

Dan was a creep in your opinion. Nobody else agreed though, he was just very…odd. He was an older man, I’d say in his early 40’s, he does have a lot of experience in jazz and band in general but he seemed off…every time after your solo in one of the songs you’d catch him looking at you with heart eyes, you’d catch him doing it to Kayleen as well. Eugh…you hate him

“Yeah baby stop being so low, your supposed have a high pitched voice in the band. If you know what I mean.” Dan said…flirted?

You wanted to throw up after he said that. Fuck he gives you the jeepers creepers.

“I’m fine guys I swear. It’s just my girlfriend is coming to watch tomorrow and her sister..isn’t quite found of me..” you rambled.

“Sorry to hear that champ. But everything will go great! Just…focus on yourself and not the crowed.” Damien explained, you have him a nod.

“Well, it’s getting late guys we should head home for the night,” everybody nodded in agreement with Pip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a quick walk home, you hadn’t lived far from Damien’s house. Which is where you guys rehearsed most days unless the Blackmore’s band director lets you in.

Moonlight On the River by Mac DeMarco was playing in your ears, your saxophone in case swaying in your left hand as you trotted in the perfect white snow on New York’s streets to your way home.

You swore someone was following you, feeling eyes staring at the back of your head. You stopped in your tracks turning around to see no one.

Maybe it’s an animal or my imagination?

You thought

As paranoid as you used to be it’s been higher ever since you heard about the ghostface attacks. Tara always pushed you away when you met, you weren’t sure why until you discovered she was The younger sister of Sam Carpenter.

Eventually you told her you don’t care about some psycho idiot under a ghost mask with a knife.

It wasn’t long after you confessed that you really liked her and started the first date. It’s been a few months since you guys started dating, you both were happy.

You told Tara you’d always be there for her if she wanted to talk about everything or anything else that’s keeping her down. She appreciates you for that, but also doesn’t want to burden you because she knows you have your own issues.

Opening your apartment door, stepping in and feeling the nice warmth greeting you. You flicked on the lights with your free hand after slipping off your shoes and walked to your bedroom.

You sat down your saxophone in the corner of your room as well as your backpack, coat. Walking over to your bed taking the snow covered sweater and sweatpants you were wearing off. (I’m more masc btw so masculine wear)

Putting on a white-T with a sweatshirt over that has Y/F/B on it and throwing on a black pair of sleep pants. That’s when your phone started buzzing in your bag.

You grabbed your bag again and opened it to grab your phone, seeing that your one and only was calling you.

With a smile you pressed the green button without hesitation and pulled the phone to your ear.

“Hey Baby!”

You blushed at her voice and nickname

“Hey Tar, how was your day?”

“Not bad, just- some arguing with Sam. You know, the usual.”

“Sorry to hear that, what was it about? If you done mind me asking.”

“It’s fine love, it was just about me walking alone to school. She needs to grow up sometimes, I mean I do appreciate her safety, it’s just a pain up my ass all the time.”

You understood Tara’s annoyance, your mom was the same. She’d harp on you about being safe even if your taking out the trash, (though you don’t live with her no more)

Sam was always protective, ever since the first Ghostface incident. Sam has prevented Tara from having outside friends (definitely after Quinn and Ethan).

That’s why Sam dislikes you, she’s scared you’ll be the next ghostface. But Tara wants Sam to understand that she’ll fall in love at some point, and she already has. It’s you

You’re the lucky girl

“Yeah I know hun, hey tell you what. Tomorrow night I’ll prove Sam with my magical music talent that I’m worthy!”

Tara chuckled, “sure baby, you are quiet talented my musical girl. I’m excited for tomorrow, by the way, how was practice?”

“Good, Kayleen and the boys are hyped. I think we’re all ready, I’m just a bit nervous…” you said, biting your nails.

“Why nervous Y/N/N? You’re never nervous.”

“That’s what the band said..haha.” You paused with a fake laugh. “I guess it’s me trying to prove how good I am to Sam, and how important you are to me.”

“Honey, even if Sam didn’t care about tomorrow then screw her, cause you shouldn’t care about what Sam thinks. It’s Sam! But I know Sam will get your trust eventually she just has a hard time opening up,” you sigh, “plus I think she’ll love it. Sam really likes music if you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know actually, but thanks Tar.”

“No problem baby, I gotta go Sam needs my help with dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow night! Love ya!”

Your heart skipped a beat, “love you too, see ya!”

You smiled widely after Tara hung up. You were going to prove your worthy for Tara to Sam.

Sam doesn’t realize how much you love that little feisty girl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s currently 7:30

Your show starts in thirty minutes

Sitting on an old chair in the back room as Kayleen does a few more touches with your make-up

You weren’t a big fan of wearing make-up, but Kayleen insisted on you wearing some especially for tonight. It wasn’t crazy make-up, just some highlights and eyeliner, nothing punk looking but more casual.

“Cmon Y/N/N you’re our sexy sax you gotta look sexy,” you rolled your eyes. “Even Pip gets a little bit of a make-over!”

“Uh-what?” Pip quipped.

“…Annnnd done!” Kayleen exclaimed, “it’s your turn Pip!”

Pip groaned but gave in

“A-are we all getting make-up?” Damien asked.

“No, Pip just doesn’t get the option because he’s one of our big soloists! But if you want make-up I’d be happy to-”

“Absolutely not,” both Damien and Dan said. The raven shrugged and went back to work

“So Y/N/N? How are you feeling?” Damien asked, as he sat next to you.

“Better, I talked to my girlfriend last night and told about my nerves but she said I’ll be okay and other things.” “Awe, she must be a real sweet one.” You blushed as his comment, Tara was a sweet one even if she’s a little feisty at times.

“We have about ten minutes left.” Dan looked at his watch.

“Shit!!” Kayleen squealed.

You laughed at her antics when she jumped to grab more blush

“We’ve got time girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tara shifted in her seat as she looked around the interior of the Music Hall.

She’s never been inside the music building, she’s only passed in on walks, in a taxi or on the bus.

It was quite beautiful, the lights were pretty, the room was nice and warm and it was just gorgeous in general, it was a very open dome with a lot of people.

Sam didn’t want to spend a lot of money so they chose the middle seats on the balcony. Tara wouldn’t really be able to see you but the tv’s they had were enough to see your gorgeous face.

“God I’m so excited! Thanks again Sam!” Chad smiled bright. Mindy thanked her too.

“Of course,” Sam smiled. “Thanks Sam, seriously, you don’t know how much this means to me and especially Y/N/N.”

The older Carpenter smiled at her little sister.

“Up next we have our Jazz Band “Sweaters In Fall!!!”

When Tara heard your band name she perked up and watched ahead of her as she cheered with the crowed.

You and band walked up stage with your instruments, the keyboard and drums already set for Damien and Dan.

“Let’s meet our lovely band! Up first is Pip the Pippet! Our Trumpeter!” Pip smiled shyly.

“Second we have Sax Positive Kayleen!”

Mindy shook her head, “reminds me of Quinn sadly.” Tara chuckled a bit.

“Third we have Damien that Damn Keyboard!” Everybody laughed and cheered.

“Fourth we have Drummer Dan!”

“He looks like he’s sixty!!” Chad yelled. Tara didn’t like Dan, the stuff you’ve told Tara about him make her sick in the stomach but that feeling faded away once the guy announcing announced your name.

“Last but not Least! Y/N/N the Sexy Sax player!!” (Sorry not sorry)

Tara blushed when you waved a bit to the the crowed. Knowing you were looking for her.

“Let’s get this party started!”

~~~~~~~~~(sorry if it’s cheesy 😭)

You were at the last song of your album. The next song was more of something you wrote yourself. (Not actually 😭 cause that’d be copyright)

Tara cheered with the crowed once the song was finished. You eagerly searched for her in the crowed then spotted her a bit later.

You blew a kiss at her as she did it back.

“Cmon Y/n! We gotta go!” Pip called.

You nodded, taking one last glance in Tara’s direction before following your friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s it! That was it my guys!” Damien screamed in victory.

“Eh it was alright-” “What do you mean it was alright Kay? That was our best yet!!” Pip cut off Kayleen.

You smiled bright once you entered the backroom. This was definitely the best performance you’ve had in awhile, and you were proud of that.

It didn’t matter to you if you won something but- it mattered that you did it. All you cared about was Sam liking you.

The band continued to talk about the performance whilst you put up your saxophone.

“Y/n!” You looked up at her voice.

Tara jumped into your arms with a big smile, Sam and her friends no too far behind.

“Hey babe! How’s you guys get in?” You looked over Tara’s shoulder, making sure no guards were about to run in saying they broke in.

“They let us in, I told them I was with you.”

“Now who’s this pretty lady?” Dan asked, he made your stomach curl and in a disgusted way.

“I’m Tara,” she said a little grossed out herself.

“Hey! Y/n, you can officially meet Sam now!” Tara turned to her older sister, motioning Sam to approach.

Sam looked at you with those ‘I don’t trust you eyes’. Sam scared you a bit, but being up close..Jesus you were more scared.

“Nice to meet you Y/n,” your eyes widened. Sam, Sam Carpenter being nice to you? She held out her hand waiting for you to shake it. “I-uh hi- S-Sam.”

Sam pulled her hand away and chuckled, “you don’t need to be afraid of me. Sorry for scaring you a bit, I’m a bit worried meeting new people. As Tara probably already told you.”

You nodded with a small smile. Tara was ecstatic with your first impressions on each other.

“Yo Y/n! You gonna introduce them?” Damien spoke.

“Oh uh- yeah! This is my girlfriend Tara her sister and friends. Guys this is Damien, Kayleen, Pip and-..Dan.” You pointed to the each of them.

There were some waves and hi’s

“Y/n, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was hella hot.” Dan walked close.

“Excuse me?” Both you, Tara and Sam said.

“You heard me.”

You looked at Dan with hatred. “Back the fuck up.”

“Woah, no need to get all frisky babe.”

“Don’t fucking call her that!” Tara yelled.

You put a hand out in front of Tara, keeping her back.

“Damn, she’s loud too.”

“Shut the fuck up you perverted mother fucker!” You shoved Dan back, but it wasn’t long before he struck your nose with his fist.

You stumbled back, wincing and clutching your nose as it bled. “Y/n..”

“Oh come on Y/n, your worse than your are at pleasing her.”

That’s when Sam lost it as well. Sam punched Dan, you pushing Sam back to finish the job.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and slamming him against the wall. “I swear to fucking god! If you ever say any of those things ever again I’ll break your skull!!!”

“Hmp, I’d like to see you try.”

Damien and Sam both grabbed your arm before you got the chance to swing another punch at him.

“Let me go!!”

“Dan, get the fuck away! Go! You’re out of this fucking band!!” Damien screamed.

“Whatever, I didn’t want to be here anyways, I just wanted to see some ladies.” Dan chuckled.

You snarled. “Get him away from me.”

Damien and Pip nodded before getting Dan out of the room.

“Y/n-” “Let’s just go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s it feeling?”

You and Tara were in her bedroom. After tonight’s event, your hand was swollen and bleeding. Sam checked it and no brokenness to it, just some bruises and scratches, plus it’ll sting.

“Like shit.” You huffed, laying back on her bed. Tara already patched you up, it hurt like a bitch too.

“I’m sorry,” “no. I’m sorry, I should’ve just kicked him off the band way before!” You threw your hands up.

“Baby, it’s not your fault. It isn’t your fault he’s some fucked up pervert, but thank you for defending me.” Tara brushed her fingers through your sweaty hair.

“Anytime..” you smile. Tara leaned down to kiss you on the lips, placing her scarred hand on your unharmed cheek.

“I love you.” “Love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is fuckin cheesy.

Sorry for not uploading this faster than I planned. Weird shit has happened this past week

I need ideas cause my brain hurts and I can’t think of anything rn

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #Scream 6 #Spotify

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hyunsvngs · 11 months

Text

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

wc: 1.1k words

cw: none - just fluff!

a/n: hello everyone! billy here, dropping my first post. it's a short and sweet one, hope you all enjoy :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

There was nothing stranger than watching your friends grow up and get married. It had been strange enough seeing them all settle down into relationships, watching in equal parts awe and envy as they each met the one. But marriage? It all seemed so grown up. So utterly terrifying. Most days, you still felt like a kid. This sort of thing was barely even on your horizon. Yet there you were, at Chan’s wedding.

“Are you ready to go, darling?” Hyunjin asked, holding his hand out to you. You took it with a smile, hoping your cheeks weren’t flushing as brightly as you thought. At least you had a boyfriend for the night.

It had worked out that you and Hyunjin were the only members of the friend group forced to attend solo. Everyone else was bringing their fiances, partners, dates; so you thought it might be fun to couple up for the night. Strictly platonically, of course.

You really had no idea how or why Hyunjin was still single. Out of all of your friends, he was the most romantic, the very embodiment of “boyfriend material.” Though he’d never so much as been on a date. You sometimes wondered if maybe nobody was good enough for him - you knew Hyunjin didn’t think this way though. He was far from pretentious, he loved everyone.

All in all, it was a beautiful day. Chan and his partner were beaming with joy, the venue was lovely, and the food was delicious. Sure, seeing everyone around you all loved-up and happy was absolutely sickening (and by that you meant incredibly jealousy-inducing), but you and Hyunjin were having fun. Somewhere along the line, you’d decided to play up the whole relationship for a day thing, purely for the theatrics of it. And maybe to deflect from your loneliness a little bit too.

A slow song began to play, the melody sweet and gentle. You and Hyunjin looked at each other, and you noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Would you honour me with a dance, my love?” he asked, grinning at you.

You put on a fake gasp. “Hyunjin, my dear! Nothing would make me happier than a dance with the love of my life!”

The charade went mostly ignored by the people around you. They were growing tired of the facade; it had been amusing at first, but grew old. Not to you and Hyunjin, though. You snickered as you walked towards the dance floor together. You rested your hands on his shoulders, while his found your waist. You swayed together slowly to the music.

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, reflections of fairy lights twinkling like stars. You looked deeply into them, getting lost in those dark pools of bliss. Until he brought you back, snapping you back to reality with his low voice.

“This has been fun,” he said, genuinely.

“Yeah,” you agreed with a bashful smile. “I’ve really enjoyed myself today.”

He smiled down at you, gently. “We make a pretty good team, you and me.”

You nodded. “You’ve been a wonderful fake boyfriend.” You paused, before adding, “You’re gonna make someone really happy someday, Hyun.”

He broke your gaze, cheeks flaming red. “Don’t say that,” he stammered with a nervous giggle. You apologised, although you couldn’t help but laugh at how bashful he was.

The two of you lost yourself in the moment once more, swaying in a comfortable silence. You spent a lot of time around Hyunjin - of course, he was one of your best friends. But you felt it had been a while since you really looked at him. He was probably the prettiest boy you knew, but today he looked absolutely stunning. His hair was gently pushed back, his sharp, well-fitted suit accentuating his slender frame. He was beautiful.

You felt your heart begin to race. You didn’t know if you were just getting caught up in make-believe, but you found yourself wanting this for real. You wanted this night to last forever - no, you wanted it to push past tonight. You wanted to slow dance like this, together in his kitchen, after cooking dinner together. You wanted to hold his hand as you shopped together, you wanted to sit nestling your cup of tea while you watch him paint, you wanted -

“I could almost kiss you right now.”

You blinked. Had you heard that correctly, or were you becoming truly delusional?

“I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t apologise.” You hushed him. “I was just surprised.” You knew very well what kissing meant to Hyunjin. You’d shared platonic kisses with many of your friends, but not him. He’d made it clear that he’d only kiss someone if he was in a relationship with them, if he truly wanted to be with them. So why was he saying this to you now?

He gave a small laugh. “I-I know… I just…” He smiled at you softly. “I want to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Are you sure? Because I’ll kiss you, but only if you’re sure.”

He paused. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“Okay,” you giggled at him. “Okay, let’s go.”

Hyunjin took your hand, interlocking his long, slender fingers with yours. He led you out of the room, and you ran down the hallway together, hand-in-hand, giggling like a pair of teenagers. You stopped around the corner, Hyunjin leaning against a table.

You stroked his cheek gently. “Are you sure you’re sure about this?” you double checked.

“I’m sure,” he nodded. “I… I know this hasn’t been real today. I know this was just pretend, just for fun. But even still, you’re my partner for today. So I don’t mind ending the night with a kiss.”

Your heart swelled, hammering in your chest as you spoke these next words. “It doesn’t have to be just for tonight.”

Hyunjin’s pretty lips parted in surprise. “Are you saying…”

You nodded. “Be mine, Hyunjin. For real. For longer than just tonight.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you almost began to backtrack, apologies rising in your throat and threatening to spill out - until he kissed you. His lips were soft, warm, delicate. A little tentative, landing lightly on your own. You rested your hand on his chest, leaning in closer.

Hyunjin pulled away, planting another kiss on your forehead for good measure. “That was nice,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really was.”

He kissed you once more, a second-long peck that made you smile. “Are you sure you want to do this, Hyun? You aren’t just getting caught up in today’s act?”

He shook his head decisively. “I’ve felt this way forever.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You have?” He nodded. “Yeah… me too.” You kissed his nose gently, making him giggle.

Distantly, from the main reception room, you heard Bruno Mars singing through the speakers - something you never could resist.

“C’mon, let’s get back out there.”

“Nobody will even know it’s not an act any more,” Hyunjin laughed, taking your hand and walking with you.

“Well, we can’t steal Chan’s thunder, can we? We’ll share the news some other time. Until then, it’s our little secret.”

Hyunjin hummed. “Hidden in plain sight.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld . @sunnyhonie . @seungincore . @msaddictions

#billy's fics ☆#stray kids #stray kids fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #kpop

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dovabunny · 9 months

Text

When your heart goes 'Padam'

Soap hated unplanned leave and he hated this fucking club.

Price had walked into his room three nights ago to inform him that due to a security threat tip he was to be 'sent on a solo mission' so they can track who has their sights on him, while he is actually shipped home to lay low.

To make it worse, he swore someone has been following him all week, but everytime he tries to catch them, even in a subtle reflection - there's nothing.

So between his apparent paranoia, irritation of being sent home while they have all the fun, and being separated from Ghost - you can understand how the last thing he wants right now was to be in a fucking club. But his sister has the hots for the DJ and didn't want to come alone so she BEGGED him to tag along.

He caved cause he could never say no to her. He tried to stay at the bar but the constant swarm of sweaty bodies had him ducking out. He tried to keep to find a seat or table to lean on, but that apparently signaled that he was lonely and looking for company. When this one persistent bloke with terrible mullet and gold chain couldn't get the fuckin message that he wasn't interested - he figured his best bet was the dancefloor.

Maybe this was good for him. To just close his eyes and move to the rhythm of the music. He had always loved music since he was a boy, always found peace in it. Maybe it could even get his mind off the one thought that haunted him the most - Ghost.

He was so sure that the flirting and the looks might mean something more, that the way his heart thumped painfully in his chest when Ghost chuckled at his bad jokes might just be reciprocated. But then the lieutenant suddenly turned cold. Not just cold, icey. His gaze was cold and distant, he responded to Soap's usual attempts at banter with "focus on the mission, sergeant." And didn't that sting. He hadn't been "Johnny" in two weeks and it fuckin hurt. Had it all just been a bit of fun for Ghost? Had Soap just been a plaything, a distraction he grew tired of when he realized how much he could be? How needy?

Soap bit his lip, eyebrows drawn as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out his spiraling thoughts that had no right to hurt him as much as it does. He focuses on the beat of the music, the rhythm of the base he feels in his chest. Slowly he loses himself to it, not caring that he's dancing alone, not caring what he looks like - swallowed by the sea of pulsing bodies moving around him.

He feels the occasional hand on his hip, even grope of his ass or thigh, but smoothly slips away with a quick glare. Some men, some women, all looking disgruntled by the fact that Soap doesn't want to be groped by a stranger.

He was just getting lost to the music again when an arm slips around his waist in a way that just had him feeling repulsed. He whips around and it's mister mullet gold chain. His strong cheap cologne and smell of terrible beer like a fog and somehow it makes Soap feel dirty. He pointedly pushes his arm off and tries to slip away, but the clown grins like Soap is playing hard to get, gripping his hips to pull firmly to his crotch.

Soap has had enough, he elbows the man in the stomach and turns around to- but then suddenly it's like the man is yanked into the crowd. In a blink and a faint yelp smelly mcMullet has just vanished.

Soap feels uneasy. A man that persistent won't duck out that fast. He tries to put it out his mind. Moves to a different spot just in case, still in the sea of people dancing but closer to the fire escape.

He had just gotten himself convinced to close his eyes and clear his mind again when there's another touch...

But this one is different. It's light, a warm hand brushing against his arm, and he senses a heavy presence behind him. But they're not on him, not grinding on his leg or letting greedy hands roam over his sweaty t shirt. No they're... Asking. Cautious.

He can't explain why he leans into the touch. He had missed dancing with someone, hasn't done so in years, but it had to be someone he felt comfortable losing himself with.

At his subtle acknowledgments, another hand settles on his other arm, a warm breath falls over the back of his neck as those hands slowly move grip his biceps and move down along his arms.

A new song comes on, the new Kylie song. It's low, seductive, and rhythmic. Soap tilts his head to the side, a less than subtle sign that he accepts his mystery partner.

Strong hands wrap around his wrists and pulls him back against a huge, firm body. He feels the breath on his neck Ghost over his exposed skin, a soft brush of lips and he sighs. He pressed more firmly into the undulating body behind him, letting his back feel warm wide shoulders and a soft chest, he feels daring and rolls his hips, feeling the clear bulge in the man's jeans.

It should make him feel repulsed, dirty, too old for this. But why does it make him feel brave, naughty, wanted. He tilts his head and noses along a thick neck, the scent of bourbon, smoke, and something manly and dark has him shuddering.

Accepting Soap's daring advance, the man let's his big hands fall to his hips, monetarily returning Soap's tease with a roll of his own hips that has the smaller man give a broken moan at how hard and hungry the man feels. Those hands roam over his stomach, pressed flat against the thin sweat soaked shirt like they're mapping out his body. One hand travels up to settle just below his neck, the other wrapping possessively around his waist.

Soap is bodily anchored against the man, to the point that their movements are perfectly in sync. Soap grinds his hips and back against the huge, hard body and is reward with teeth scraping his neck.

"Yyy-ess", he chokes out. And then there's fingers on his chin tilting his head back just enough for warm lips to meet his.

Soap melts against the strong arms and chest keeping him up as they move in harmony to the beat. The kiss is gentle and dirty in equal measure and he gets lost in it.

They dance like that - or rather it would be more accurate to say they just moved like that, undulating and together to the music, pressed together to give and feel pleasure. Lips and tongues come together like they're choreographed, every lick, nip, and kiss matched like they've done it a thousand times and Soap has a hand in the man's hair holding him close.

He feels drunk on his stranger's scent and touch and taste, drowning in the best way. But then he feels it...

A sensation that hits him harder than any other he's felt all night.

Against his back, where the man's chest is pressed firmly to his skin, their t-shirts barely a barrier, he feels a clear thumping heartbeat.

It's too hard and too fast to be just from the music, but too steady to be from alcohol or drugs. No, it's sincere.

Soap let's their kiss end, just breathing each other in for a moment, before he turns and opens his eyes to gaze up at his stranger.

Lust lidded eyes stare down at him, a soft whiskey brown barely a ring around dark pupils blown wide, his steady gaze heavy with desire and possessiveness. Pale skin flickers in the pulsing lights of the club, revealing a blush bright and heavy over his strong nose and cheeks. Lips kiss swollen and split slick are parted as they pant in tandem. Short blonde hare stands messy where Soap had grabbed it, and tucked under his chin is a black face mask...

...it's the mask that sets it off. Suddenly Soap blinks himself into wakefulness and takes a closer look at his beautiful stranger.

The man seems to have gone through the same awakening, but instead of curiosity he seems to be taken by nervousness and panic.

Before Soap can even respond there's a mumbled apology and the man turns to flee.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost cod

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dreamaze · 5 months

Text

The Dreaming / Find You / Destroyer / All In (MV ver.) / Nobody Else / Wildfire / Rain (MIC in the SCENE live) / Mercy (No Limit Tour in Seoul) / Thriller / 춤사위 (Crescendo) / Lost in the Dream / AND / You Can't Hold My Heart (PLAY! solo live) / Thriller / BEASTMODE / Fantasia / LOVE / Rodeo / LONE RANGER

⟡ To be honest, I am not sure what I can say about Kihyun's artistry that isn't abundantly clear from his studio and live performances. If I say that I believe he is one of the most competent vocalists in the genre, it may sound like an understatement — although it is not something I say lightly, and I mean it with my whole heart. His level of musicality is built on a strong foundation of fundamental skills and would not be possible without it. Minhyuk once described him as a stone that does not shake in the wind, and to me this also embodies his steadiness and reliability in the recording booth and on the stage no matter how challenging the primary and secondary (e.g., ad lib) lines are asked of him and no matter how deep they are into a rigorous concert set. Kihyun excels at singing high and singing loud (genuinely), but he also has a wide and well-supported range, and I appreciate the opportunities to enjoy his lower/mid end and lighter moments just as much as his robust belting. I understand why Hyungwon loves composing for his voice (who wouldn't?). Kihyun has been a strong singer since the beginning of his career and makes many of his parts seem effortless, yet most of all I respect his commitment to growth despite how much effort it takes to improve when you are already among the best of the best. He was honest with himself about when he felt his abilities plateauing, and he sought a way forward by resuming vocal lessons. We are fortunate as fans that he is also open enough to share that with us. I didn't think I could love and respect him more, but for that personal strength and dedication to his craft, I did. I do.

Postscript, to listeners. This was a challenging set of excerpts to compile (and even more to order) because Kihyun has many, many parts throughout the MX discography that showcase his abilities. As with my other compilations, it strives to capture a breadth of his output while also being very much biased toward my own favorites (Crescendo/Lost in the Dream/AND occur successively because they carry the most gut-punching, emotional weight to me). But I expect to revisit these in the future and would love to hear about your favorite moments in the tags. ♡

Postscript, to Kihyun. I miss you. Kpop is not the same without you. At the same time, I am so proud and happy for you that you are continuing to make music, as it is such a core part of your being and (if it is not presumptuous to say) brings you fulfillment and joy. I am absolutely tickled that you play the trombone. I hope you are having the best possible time playing in the band (and that your low brass section is delightfully weird, as tends to be the case — with lots of love to low brass players, from a percussionist who overheard all your shenanigans), and I can't wait to see how this musical experience contributes to your transformation and growth as an artist.

Other compilations: Minhyuk | Jooheon

#kihyun #monsta x #monstaxedits #mx vocal compilation #music box #wings.audio #wings.edits #tuseral #userkyutie #megtag #wabisarah #audio #made with so so so much love for my beloved tenor of tenors

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bordysbae · 1 year

Note

hi can you write more about ethan x diabetes reader maybe from when they first met..

maybe Ethan sees the dexcom on the reader's arm and he's like: what is that?

or they're at some party and she's feeling sick so she goes outside to get some fresh air and that's where Ethan meets him, He asks her if she's okay and she mentions her low blood sugar.

“new people new things”

ethan edwards x diabetic!reader

as i said before, i think this is the end to the series, but thank you guys sm for both starting and tagging along on this little mini series with me!! <3

also: i added ella (readers roommate from the first story) in this again! and this was kinda the start of ella and luca (if you guys remember that!) which i thought was cute, since everything kinda got tied together in the end! we see how ethan and reader met, them getting back together, and parts of them dating! sorry we didn’t see the breakup, but just imagine it however you want!

—

the loud music blaring through the speaker, which is connected to god knows who’s phone, isn’t helping your ill feeling at all. the smell of alcohol and sweat makes you want to vomit, and your head is already spinning slightly, so the only thing you can think of is getting some fresh air on the back porch.

you step outside and close the door behind you, which only slightly muffles the sounds from inside. you take a deep breath and inhale the late-night, october air filling the city of ann arbor. as you’re lost in thought, trying to ignore the slightly ill feeling in your system, your attention is captured by the brunette boy who just entered the back porch.

“hey,” he says, leaning over the railing next to you, while swirling the drink in his red solo cup around.

“hi,” you say, turning your body to face him but still leaning against the deck railing.

“i’m ethan”

“i’m y/n. whatcha drinking?” you ask, making conversation to avoid those awkward ‘what’s your major?’ type questions.

“honestly, i couldn’t even tell you. my buddy got it for me, alcohol just tastes like alcohol to me,” he shrugs. “want a sip?” he says, holding out the cup to you.

“nah i’m good, thanks though. im supposed to be driving my friend home, but she’s hooking up with one of those hockey douches so i cant really leave, and i’m honestly not feeling great. sorry, that was a lot of information you didn’t need,” you ramble awkwardly to the stranger, unaware he’s very much a hockey player.

“well, that’s alright. i don’t think you’d want a sip since i’m one of those ‘hockey douches’ anyways,” the boy chuckles, making you gasp.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry! i had no idea!”

“no no it’s alright, i understand why you said that, hockey players definitely have a reputation. but i cant help but ask, you said you weren’t feeling alright? are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine. i’m just a diabetic and my blood sugar is slightly going low, but if i go back inside and inhale all that sweat and alcohol stench, i’ll probably drop dead before i can even reach the kitchen,” you joke, making ethan chuckle.

“wow! that’s so cool! i’ve never met anyone at this school who’s a diabetic,” ethan informs you.

“yep! you meet new people and see new things!” you smile, happy he isn’t one to judge you on being diabetic.

“oh wait here, take this! i snatched some from the bowl outside. hopefully that doesn’t make me a bad guy for stealing the kids halloween candy, but at least it’s going to a good cause,” he says reaching into his pocket and grabbing you a small packet of m&ms.

“oh my gosh, thank you so much! you’re a life saver, literally!” you exclaim before tossing a few into your mouth. you and ethan get to know each other for the next twenty minutes or so, until your friend drunkenly stumbles outside looking for you.

“y/n, hockey guys literally give the best head! you seriously need to stop being so against them- oh who’s this!” your friend questions, almost falling over ontop of you.

“uh hi, i’m ethan.” ethan awkwardly chuckles before shooting you an awkward look, making you both burst out laughing. “what are you guys laughing at?” ella drunkenly asks.

“nothing ella, it’s just that ethan plays hockey, but that’s not important. cmon let’s get you home,” you say.

“what does him playing hockey have to do with anything?” ella asks

“ella do you not remember what you just said?” you chuckle. “no?” she says, making both you and ethan laugh even harder. ethan helps you bring emma around the house and into your car.

once you finally get ella settled, he asks you a question, “could i maybe get your number?”

“of course!” you blush, thankful for the darkness so he can’t see your hot cheeks. “i’ll text you. get home safe y/n, okay?” he waves,

“thanks ethan, i’ll see you around.” you smile, before walking over to the other side of the car.

“he’s hot,” ella says, making you face palm. “i wonder if luca knows him,” ella mutters to herself.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x diabetic #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey

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candyflossfairy · 1 year

Text

𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝑛 — 𝟶𝟷

—𝟶𝟷. 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑦

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: Corroded Coffin is an up-and-coming band gaining traction quickly; however, their lead singer just left to go solo. After finding a flyer advertising that they were holding an audition to find a new lead singer, you decide to take a chance and go for it. 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 18+ only, Wet dreams, fingering, petnames.

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 3.3k

This was it. It was your big break. Your opportunity. Your time to shine. Well… maybe not quite yet. You had to get through the audition first, and get the spot in the band, but… well, Corroded Coffin was up and coming. They’d already hit radio stations in your city, and when you’d seen the flyer that they were looking for a new lead singer you just… had to try.

It was a sign. It had to be.

Not to mention, hanging out with a bunch of cute boys and making music didn’t sound bad at all.

Even though this was a total long shot and you had to be amazing for them to pick you since their old lead singer was a guy. Their songs were made for a guy to sing, not a girl. Even still. You had to try.

You had to.

You stood outside in the line of others auditioning, every one of you dressed up in your best rocker attire. You thought a little cleavage and fishnets didn’t hurt, and you were the only girl in the line other than girlfriends who seemed to come and support their boyfriends in auditioning.

You were alone. You hadn’t told anyone what you were doing, out of fear of jinxing it. Your guitar was in its case at your side, being your only companion as you slowly moved up in the line.

Finally, you were inside and signed in with your name and phone number. The attendant handed you a number that you pinned on your shirt. Number seventy-six. Seventy-five other people were auditioning ahead of you, and god knows how many were after you. Your chances felt even slimmer.

Still, you would do your absolute best.

You sat with the others who were waiting to audition as another attendant called a number every once in a while. Your knee bounced with jitters as you played through the song you were going to sing and play for them in your head.

You had this.

“Seventy-six!”

Fuck. You were going to throw up.

You stood and grabbed your guitar case with shaking hands as you walked up to the attendant. It was only then that you noticed all of the stares. You were the only girl there; of course, people were staring.

“You’re seventy-six?” The attendant asked as if to check once more.

You nodded, wetting your lips. “I do have the number on.”

The attendant seemed to want to say something else but just opened the door for you.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Sitting on one side of the room behind a table were the members of the band; and, of course, their manager. Your cheeks turned a little pink as they were all staring at you, surprised.

One of them, however, was grinning way too widely at you.

“Welcome to the audition. I’m Eddie. This is Gareth, Billy, Jonathan, and Steve; our manager.”

“Hi,” You greeted.

“Can we get your name, sweetheart?” Eddie asked.

You stated it, and then sat your guitar case on the floor to unlatch it and pull out your guitar as they scribbled down notes on their papers.

“Do you need anything? Maybe a bottle of water?” Steve spoke up next, leaning back way too far in his chair. He looked very different from the rest of them, more preppy boy than a rockstar. That was probably why he was their manager, you thought.

“Oh, a bottle of water would be nice.” You smiled.

Steve snapped, and the door attendant brought one over to you. You plugged in your guitar before flicking on the provided amp and stepping up to the microphone. It was a small room, so the volumes on both were pretty low. Shockingly, the acoustics in the room were very good.

You took a sip from the water before picking up your pick and giving your guitar a quick strum.

“What are you playing for us today?” Billy asked another person who looked way more pretty boy than rock band, but you couldn’t judge.

“A Rose Bush Symphony.” You stated one of their songs, and they all looked intrigued.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Eddie nodded.

You took a deep breath before you started strumming the opening notes on your guitar. It was only a little off with it lacking a drum beat behind it, but they were already aware of that.

This, in all honesty, was probably the best you’d played in a while. It was a good feeling, and you forgot that it was an audition at all as you strummed and sang along and hopped around like you were on a stage, playing at your own concert.

By the end, you were getting the big O from the band. A standing ovation.

“Damn, didn’t expect that from you.” Billy laughed, clapping slowly.

You licked your lips and flipped off the amp before unplugging your guitar.

“Thank you guys for this opportunity, I appreciate it.” You smiled at them as they started discussing quietly among themselves. You placed your guitar back into its case and closed it before standing.

“Have a good day, sweetheart. You’ll be hearing from us.” Eddie finger waved at you before Steve whacked him in the back of his head.

“What he means is that we’ll be discussing. If we pick you, you’ll hear from us in a few days. Thank you for coming.” Steve nodded to you.

“Thank you guys, again.” You gave them all a smile before leaving the room.

Jesus Christ.

They were a rowdy bunch. Whatever happened now, you did your absolute best. You knew you did. You were proud, regardless of if you got the position or not. You nodded to yourself and released a breath before heading home.

An hour car ride later you were back; you quickly put up your guitar before heading to work.

You stepped into the back of the dive bar and punched in before heading to the bar.

“Hey, Rudy.” You greeted your coworker. He was around your age and not bad looking — but definitely not your type. He smelled like an ashtray even though you knew he got good grades in school.

“Hey.” He grinned at you as you stepped up to take a patrons order.

Twelve orders later and the bar was pretty satisfied for the moment. You leaned against the back counter next to Rudy.

“Sooooo… how are things going?” He asked.

“Fine. Normal. Totally normal.” You sputtered.

“Sounds like things are not normal.” He laughed, grabbing you both a bottle of water.

“Oh, you know. I just… maybeauditionedtobecorrodedcoffinsleadsingertoday. Nothing crazy.” You laughed.

“I’m… You what?” He looked at you, confused.

“I… auditioned… to be—”

“Wait, wait, you’re telling me you actually auditioned somewhere?! That’s amazing!” He laughed, pulling you in for a back-slapping hug.

“Yes, yeah, I did. Actually. Corroded Coffin is looking for a new lead singer.” You told him after he let go of you.

“Corroded Coffin? Oh, honey. You could’ve picked any bar in town to play by yourself, and your first audition in years you picked something you can’t get?” He shook his head, “You’re just trying to put yourself down. I see what you’re doing.”

“Why—who says I can’t get it?” You huffed.

“C’mon. Their lead singer was a guy. They’re looking for another guy. They recorded their old songs with a guy. They’re not going to change their whole thing for some girl.”

Ouch.

“Well, nice to know I’m just some girl—”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I just mean that you’re not… that’s a total different level and you haven’t performed in a long time.” He explained.

“I am very aware how—”

“Ay! Gimmie another beer!”

You sighed and grabbed a fresh glass, pouring the mans draft for him before sliding it over and grabbing his ticket to add it to his tab.

“Look. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just think you should’ve picked something more on your current level before you went straight for the big leagues.” Rudy bit his lip.

“They’re not a huge band or anything. They’re just… up and coming.” You tapped your fingers against the counter.

“They’re the biggest thing Indiana has had in a while.” He looked at you.

“Okay, I know it was stupid to think I could actually get it, but it got me back into it anyways, right? Like, that’s the scariest thing I’ll ever have to do unless my own career takes off, right?” You pointed out.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t get upset when they don't call you.” He sighed heavily.

“I won’t,” You promised.

Your shift ended around three a.m. and you drove back home. Rudy really did a number on your confidence levels, even though the band seemed to be excited about you after your audition.

Then again, maybe they acted that excited about everyone, just to make them feel better.

After a quick shower — and maybe a quick crying session in said shower, you were in bed; dreaming of what will never be.

Your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers as they pumped in and out of you, his mouth on your pert nipple; sucking, nipping. His fingers curled inside of you, pressing right into that spongey spot in you that made your back arch high and a moan leave your lips.

“Eddie—” You whimpered, “Please!” You cried out.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes, his lips glistening slightly.

“Plea—”

You shot up out of bed at the loud ringing that flowed through your house, your cheeks flushed a deep red as you tried to catch your breath. It had been a long time since you’d had a wet dream, and even longer since you’d had one about a literal stranger.

The phone rang again, and you scrambled out of bed, trying to ignore the tingling between your legs as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington with Corroded Coffin, how are you doing today?”

Oh shit. “Hi! Hi! I’m doing great, how are you?”

“Great, actually. We were really impressed by your audition and wanted to see if you could come in today and play with the band as a sort of callback situation.”

“Oh, oh shit, yeah! Absolutely! What time, and where?”

Steve gave you a time and an address, which you scribbled down on the palm of your hand.

You didn’t have much time to get ready. It was about an hour drive to Hawkins; but you would make it. Thank God you showered last night.

You slapped on some makeup and clothes; including the fishnets again because they seemed to give you good luck yesterday.

The drive into Hawkins was filled with you listening to the one Corroded Coffin CD you had, trying to make sure you knew the lyrics to most of the songs at least. You did know them; but you wanted to be sure.

Where you pulled up, after following the side streets, was a house. The garage door was open, and the band was all in it, laughing and talking together. Your nerves welled up once more, but you took a deep breath and got out, grabbing your guitar case from the back seat.

“There she is!” Eddie was the first to greet you with a wide grin and a wave. You smiled back and tried not to blush too hard as you remembered your dream from last night.

“Surprised?” Billy asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“A bit, yeah.” You admitted, placing your guitar case down.

“Well, don’t be nervous. You’re mostly just hanging out today.” Steve told you with a kind smile.

“I’m more surprised that we’re in a garage.” You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s Gareth’s. This is where we started.” Jonathan piped up. He wasn’t paying much attention to you as he was tuning his guitar.

"Cool," You nodded.

"You want a beer or anything?" Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked way too smug, and you couldn't help but wonder why.

"Maybe later? Beer isn't exactly good for the vocal chords." You laughed, pulling your guitar from its case.

"Well shit, look at her. She knew something that you didn't." Billy teased Eddie, slapping him on the back.

"Yeah, yeah. It's good to know, though. For concerts." Eddie huffed, walking over to grab his guitar.

Everyone got into place with their instruments, Billy on drums, Gareth on bass, Jonathan on rhythm guitar, and Eddie on lead. You, in all technicalities, didn't need your guitar. It was a comfort object for now.

"Alright, let's start off with A Rose Bush Symphony since we know you know that one." Steve piped up, taking a seat off to the side.

The drums started and you tried to not shake as you strummed the opening notes at the same time as Eddie, taking a deep breath before you started to sing.

"Alright, alright! Free concert’s over. Everyone shuffle along!" Steve shouted over the crowd you had accumulated in the driveway.

All of you were sweaty, despite the cool air. Spirits and adrenaline were high. You’d just played your first concert, and everyone enjoyed it. There had even been shouting for “Encore! Encore!” You felt lucky that you knew the lyrics to their songs. At some point, your guitar had been put down and you’d taken the microphone in hand, hopping around and playing off of everyone else’s energy. If you asked yourself, you fit right in. You just hoped the others thought the same.

“How about that beer?” Eddie laughed, brushing his bangs back. He’d pulled his hair up into a bun between songs around midway through to get it off of his neck.

Billy had done the same, but had also shed his shirt. You were trying to not drool over all of them. With their arms out and their skin glistening.

“A beer sounds great.” You smiled, your voice a little raspy from overuse. You’d definitely have to train it up if this was going to happen.

Gareth and Jonathan stepped inside of the house to grab everyone a beer while Steve approached you and gave you a pat on the back.

“Well, I think that answers that. We can draw up a contract tomorrow. How does that sound?” He grinned at you.

“You mean it?” You asked, a little giddy.

“Of course. You rocked the fuck out of that crowd!” Billy barked a laugh, finally standing up from his drum set. You got an eyeful of his abs and had to look away from him to keep from blushing.

“You don’t live around here, right?” Eddie piped up.

“No, I’m about an hour north.” You nodded.

“We’ll look into finding you a place here. We’ve already booked a few gigs out of state, so it’ll be tour bus city for the next month anyways.” Steve told you.

You went a little wide-eyed.

“We’re not that big, yet. What he means is we’ll be high tailing it out of here in about a week in a couple of vans. After these gigs, we should be able to afford an actual tour bus to take a US tour.” Eddie explained.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just dreaming big for us.” Steve huffed.

Gareth and Jonathan came back with the beers, passing them out. Gareth gave you a shy smile as he handed one to you, and you smiled back.

“What about my job?” You asked.

“This is your job now, baby.” Billy grinned.

“If you want, to save money, you can even live with us. You’ll have to get used to sleeping in hotel rooms and vans with us anyways.” Eddie pointed out.

“Can I think about it?” You prompted, not certain you really wanted to move in with five boys. That would be…definitely a lot. Especially if they weren’t clean.

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t think you would want to do that anyways. That’s why I didn’t suggest it. Living together permanently and sleeping in the same area for a month are completely different.” Steve said, shooting a look at Eddie, who held his hands up.

“We’d have to move our shit around anyways.” Jonathan huffed. “There’s not enough room.”

“Don’t be like that. We had room when Tommy was with us, we have room for her.” Billy grunted.

“I don’t want to impose.” You frowned.

“You wouldn’t be. Jonathan just takes a while to warm up to people. Don’t mind it.” Steve rolled his eyes.

You nodded, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that Jonathan really didn’t like you. He barely spoke around you — the same could be said for Gareth, but at least Gareth smiled at you. He came off as shy more than he did mean.

After a little more chatting between you, Steve, Billy, and Eddie — with Jonathan randomly chiming in and Gareth saying absolutely nothing — they decided to take you back to their house to give it a look over, just so you could see what you would be getting into if you did end up moving in.

It was a pretty normal-looking house from the outside, but on the inside, it was… cleaner than you expected. There was a handful of dishes in the sink, but the counters were clean and organized, the couch was lacking stains, and the TV even had a VHS player and an NES attached to it.

Downstairs were two rooms, Steve and Billys, and upstairs were another three; Jonathans, Eddies, and Gareths. Steve and Billy were happy to show you their rooms, both clean for the most part — only a stray T-shirt or a cluttered vanity showing any mess. Eddie and Jonathan said no, Eddie being more sheepish about it and Jonathan being more… fuck you about it.

Gareths room was the last one, and his was spotless and organized. You suddenly knew who kept the kitchen so clean.

“So, if I did live here…where would my room be?” You asked, as the six of you came back down the stairs.

“Oh, right. This way.” Steve said, leading the group through the kitchen. He slid open the glass door to the backyard and headed towards a rather large shed.

He opened up the door and stepped in, you stepped in after him.

“We’ve been using it for storage, but this is where Tommy stayed. There’s heat and air, and no issues with bugs or anything. We can move all of this junk to the basement and attic; we just got lazy.” Steve explained.

It was just one big room with a couple of windows. There wasn’t that much stuff in it, really, but there was carpet on the floor and the walls were painted, so it was, really, like a room.

“The only downside is you have to come inside for a bathroom,” Eddie said quickly. “But you get to control your own temperature which is really nice!”

You nodded slowly, mulling it over in your head. It wouldn’t be an awful setup, honestly. You could see where your bed would go, and your desk, and you could get a vanity for your makeup and—there was even a closet.

“What’s this?” You asked, bending over to pick up an old shoe box at the bottom of the closet.

“Nothing!” All of the boys seemed to chorus at once, and before you knew it the shoe box was out of your hands.

You looked at them suspiciously. “It’s not drugs, right?” You asked.

“No! God, no.” Eddie laughed. “The worst we ever have here is weed. It’s just — This was Tommy’s. We should really get it back to him.”

“Yeah, Tommy is like.. Super protective of his stuff. He just forgot it.” Billy nodded.

“...ooookay, weirdos.” You pushed passed them and back into the room.

“My lease is up soon anyways, so… I don’t see why I can’t move here.” You told them.

“Awesome. We’ll start cleaning this shit up, and you can start packing. We need you back here tomorrow for the contract, and then we’re going to rerecord some songs with your vocals. Sound good?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, cool. I’ll be back tomorrow then."

189 notes · View notes

setsugekka · 1 year

Text

『paradise lost』 ; 05.5

❝ the pros and cons of breathing ❞

↳ a couple of years into art school, hongjoong doesn’t understand a lot of things; how to get paint out of his clothes, how people are so willing to talk about the way they feel, how they understand the way they feel on any one thing at all, really.

then he meets psych student wooyoung, and one thing wooyoung is going to do, is talk.

⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x jung wooyoung

『 genre 』 : romance, best friends, sexuality exploration/discovery, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 12k

『 warnings 』 : college-typical experience type stuff like parties, drinking, boys kissing boys. gay sex!! anal, oral, etc. first times, a lot of consent and safety talk and talking through things in general.

╰┈➤ a/n: hi. i know a lot of yall don’t read mxm content so i’m going to add a 🍬🍬🍬 line for easy smut scene searching if you want to read this for paradise lost continuity purposes but not really partake in the smut. I DO THINK YOU SHOULD AT LEAST SCAN THE SMUT because there’s a lot of talking and character development that takes place within and because of it, but...i can’t make you so here you go lol.

Halfway into Hongjoong's second year of college, he realizes that he's spent an absolutely unfathomable amount of time in the living rooms of people he's never met before.

And tonight is no different.

Shipped off to a fancy art college much to the vocal-but-not-disallowing disapproval of his parents, he gives it a moment of thought — how precisely where he was right now, in this moment, was almost surely the exact reason in which they did not want him to be there to begin with. A four hour drive one way for them to come and check up on him, and not something they were able to do often with the adult world still spinning all the same back home as if he had never left at all.

Perhaps it was for the best, though. No sudden check-ups only to find a hungover son with paint splatter in the carpet that they would ultimately be the ones paying the cost to remove.

Unfortunately, the paint thing had already happened — Hongjoong simply thinking the scenario over again from experience.

With his red solo cup in hand, half-empty and tapping the ring on his ring finger over the plastic idly as he thinks, the boy with the simple, brown hair — pulled back and off of his forehead — ultimately comes to the conclusion that he is bored. Maybe the party scene had lost its luster already.

Fitted, gray-wash jeans and a plain, black t-shirt, Hongjoong mulls over whether it's time to leave. Eyes darting around him in an attempt to locate any device that will inform him of the time of night without digging out his own phone from his pocket, his vision lands on the stove across the way — nearly obstructed by the kitchen island — but not just.

9:36pm.

He frowns briefly, looking down into his cup to consider refilling and remaining at the dull, lifeless excuse for a party before looking up and scanning the room again. Music low enough to comfortably converse over, the murmur of just that filling his ears without intent to eavesdrop — it being a side effect of alertness all the same, however — his attention draws to two people just to his right in the slightly more darkened hallway, making out heavily, and quite surely only moments away from making their way to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs via the staircase only just next to them.

He frowns again.

“Why the long face?”

The voice is unfamiliar, drawing his attention up and to the opposite side of him immediately (as well as just about frightening him out of his skin) — there resides someone he's sure he's never seen before, but makes every effort to cycle through the rolodex of names and faces he's encountered over the last however many months of college as to not be rude.

Because who would just walk up to him out of the blue like this?

Hongjoong's eyes — still wide and staring intently at whoever it is to his left — medium-length, lavender purple hair and tanned skin; fitted jeans, but designer, as well as a nicely fitting sweater with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms — also designer.

Hongjoong pays enough attention to fashion to knows money when he sees it. He also pays enough attention around campus to know that despite the appearance in hair, this man does not go to his school.

He would remember.

“Sorry, have we met?”

“No, well—“ the stranger starts then pauses, tossing his head to the side and looking up towards the ceiling. “—depends how pedantic you want to be, I suppose. No, not before, but we have now,” he smiles, turning his attention back down to Hongjoong. “I'm Wooyoung.”

“Okay...” Hongjoong replies, too quickly to realize how absolutely awkward that response is to the scenario in question. “Of course, uh, I'm Hongjoong.”

“You know anyone here?” Wooyoung asks just as quickly, without missing a beat, and Hongjoong shakes his head slowly in response. “Yeah, I can kinda tell. Little awkward, yeah?”

“Not usually,” he says with a chuckle. “I don't typically talk to random people at random parties, though.”

“What year are you?” The boy with the lavender hair then switches the topic just as abruptly as he had shown up.

Hongjoong feels like he's experiencing whiplash in just a minute of conversation.

“Going on my third.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung answers playfully. “Older than me. First year.”

Finally it clicks for Hongjoong, why he's never seen Wooyoung around on campus — with him being first year, not much time to have seen him around. He nods as he explains as much, only for Wooyoung to protest all the same.

“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head. “We don't go to the same school.”

But the older boy squints at him, as if the entire conversation growing entirely absurd to him in real time. “How could you possibly know that?”

And as Wooyoung looks him up and down, Hongjoong finds himself to feel completely and totally seen in a way he thinks perhaps he's never experienced before. Was he being...checked out?

“Trust me,” he says, fingers pulling through lavender strands before bringing his cup up and to his lips. “I can tell just by looking at you that you do not go to the same school that I do.”

And logically, Hongjoong knows that where they are presently — a house among numerous other houses all sectioned for student housing — is smack dab right in between two different college campuses; one, being the art school that he goes to, and the other being the fancy-schmancy private school that presumably, now, this guy goes to.

He knows it's not meant to come off any kind of way — any kind of pretentious way, but it still sort of does. Hongjoong realizes that he's also not sure why he's sure it's not meant to come off that way...because he doesn't actually know this guy at all.

Vibes, he supposes.

“That obvious, huh?” Hongjoong chuckles into the rim of his own cup, eyes wandering back into the openness of the party for ample people-watching with his new acquaintance.

“To be fair, you have paint on your jeans,” Wooyoung says, looking down at the spot that he's referring to, just before bringing his gaze back up at towards Hongjoong's head. “And in your hair, I think.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Lighting's bad, hard to tell, but your response tells me it's certainly not an impossibility.”

“Things get a little wild in the studio, what can I tell you?”

“More about that studio, for one.”

The comment comes out so easily, so comfortably to the younger guy just next to Hongjoong — while he nearly chokes on the drink he attempts to swallow down in the meantime, but without making a scene.

Flustered might be an understatement.

As Hongjoong attempts to gather enough coherent thought for a reply, the assumed-host steps into the living room to turn the music up, much louder than before and not granting as much ability for discussion — the two men look at each other with knowing approval before Wooyoung nods towards the hallway that leads into the dining room and eventually the backyard patio.

Much fewer people adorning the cement (and far less drunk, as well), the two pull up some lawn chairs next to the small fireplace to keep warm in the cooler, nighttime air.

“So, what are you into?”

The question, albeit innocently enough posed, sends a somewhat knowing shiver down Hongjoong's spine. No stranger to getting hit on, it's not an entirely unknown question to have heard in his life.

But from a man, a new level of diceyness he's not nearly as vetted in.

It takes him a few seconds of pause and looking aimlessly into the cup in his lap to muster up the ability to answer the man sitting just next to him — eyes locked to the side of his head the entire time.

“I—I don't—“

“Okay, let me be more clear,” Wooyoung amends with a grin, leaning over the arm of the chair and closer towards Hongjoong. “Do you fuck men?”

Genuinely, Hongjoong appreciates the forwardness — a yes or no question, easy enough to answer in almost all circumstances. The age old question in almost every college experience since the dawn of time: are you having sex, or aren't you?

And if you are, then with who?

Alongside that all being true, he still feels as though his stomach has made its way straight up and into his throat.

The problem likely lying in the fact that Hongjoong isn't sure — one way 'yes' or another 'no'. Not really.

But in times like this, perhaps it's best to fall back on what you know, what history has presented us as our tale to tell.

“No,” he says, after what feels like years of mulling the question over in his head. Eyes pulling up and towards Wooyoung still watching from beside him, the two make eye contact only briefly before he has to pull his eyes back away once again — seating them comfortably into the empty cup between his thighs just as before.

Ears feeling so hot he's certain Wooyoung can see the shade of red even in the incredibly dim lighting, he considers it also perhaps entirely pointless in ones journey not to tell the truth when given opportunities for growth, for new, for different.

For what could inevitably become ones new normal.

“I don't know.”

But Wooyoung only snorts at the shakiness of the older boy's reply, gently pulling himself away and out of Hongjoong's space, as if knowing it the precisely right time to back off and give him his own.

Tone gentle and eyes gazing out and into the sky, the corners of Wooyoung's lips curl just ever so slightly — so slight that one might have missed it if not looking directly towards him.

“We're gonna figure that out.”

Mixing bowl in hand, earnestly curating the exact shade of blue that he wishes to achieve to sprawl across the canvas that currently lies in the middle of the floor in his dorm room, it's the gentle hum of his phone vibrating that pulls his thoughts out of their artistic space and back into the present moment.

Because who could possibly be texting him at nearly 10pm on a Tuesday?

But when he picks up his phone and illuminates the screen to find the ever telling notification pop up, even based on their little interaction thus far, he's not all that surprised.

>Wooyoung: come out with me tonight, there's a thing.

Hongjoong mulls over in his head what on earth 'a thing' could be, and even in spite of the curiosity, decides on the good school boy approach.

>Hongjoong: can't. have a project due. what's “a thing” anyways?

Well, he already turned it down, might as well satiate the curiosity anyways. He's only human, after all.

>Wooyoung: you're in art school, bro. just tell them you needed an extra day to get the artistic juices flowing or whatever weirdo shit you art guys say. just come.

He rolls his eyes, both at the dismissiveness of his academia, and at himself — for sort of wanting to cave in and go to whatever the mystery is that Wooyoung so obviously chose not to disclose on purpose.

>Hongjoong: I barely know you and now you're trying to whisk me off to who knows where...ever heard of “stranger danger”?

Plopping himself down and onto the couch as he awaits a reply from the younger of them, Hongjoong looks down at the barely touched canvas of work that is definitely due in two days and sighs to himself. One, for being kinda irresponsible about it, and two, for being so easily swayed by the guy he met at a party with a dye-job far too shitty for how much money he has.

Just then, another message.

>Wooyoung: i'll make sure you get home safe and sound <3

Once again equal parts annoyed at the man in question for being the way he is and also at himself for sort of being interested in the game, he rolls his eyes at himself for the text of affirmation he then sends through to the other end.

An address comes through just as quickly, as if queued up and ready to go long before Hongjoong's will crumbles.

When they meet outside of the building — tall and beautifully crafted, Hongjoong recalls that they're actually rather far out on the other side of town. Not typically where he would find himself, but upon further thought, likely closer to where Wooyoung himself stayed. Shopping, living and staying for the upper-end of middle class and higher, Hongjoong's eyes shift from the building and down towards the man standing just beside him — this time dressed a tad bit more to-do, nice dark jeans and an incredibly fitted deep v-neck shirt, he watches as Wooyoung pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through something on it briefly — presumably the building code, once he stops and presses the four digits into the electronic pad on the front of the door and granted access with a beep.

Wooyoung looks over at a much less confident and quite evidently unsure Hongjoong, now a step below him and looking even smaller to the man a step above.

It's not even that there was much of a size difference between the two of them, but rather, the weight of the confidence that rode right alone with the boy with the purple hair — as if the world was his oyster, already figured out and just living in it. Enjoying it.

Perhaps something Hongjoong not only envied, but was perpetually drawn to from the start.

What they step into, however, is not what Hongjoong had in mind.

Eyes wide and eyebrows pressed to the sky, Hongjoong nearly stumbles at the first sights his eyes lay upon once the door closes behind them. It's not nudity — not outright, and nothing entirely explicit, but the overarching feeling of erotic energy he finds to not be easily ignored. Men happily walked along the corridors on leash and collar by their suitors, people as far as the simple eye can see adorning whips and chains and lingerie as they chat casually about work of domestic home life with their children's schools and exchanging stories of the recent kindergarten play one mans son just did — a retelling of Cinderella, in which the son in question got to play the traditionally female lead — and much to his delight, able to adorn the dress and all. Hongjoong finds the story he happens to overhear as he's gently pulled through marble hallways delightful, if not bizarrely touching given the juxtaposition of the situation he's now found himself in tonight.

Maybe he should have just stayed home and painted his fucking pictures.

“Umm, Wooyoung?” he stutters out, a hand tightly around his wrist, bobbing and weaving the both of them through the traffic of other passerby. He knows that his voice is small — matching how he feels in the moment exactly, and that over the sights and sounds of the party — likely goes unheard. Gathering the strength to assert himself (and some of it being rooted in fright), Hongjoong pulls back and against Wooyoung's forward momentum.

Feeling the tug, Wooyoung quickly darts his head back to look — terror unbecoming of Hongjoong's features. He stops immediately and turns to him.

“What? What's wrong?”

“You kind of should have told me where you were taking me.”

Wooyoung sighs in defeat, knowing as much. “Okay yes, but I knew you wouldn't come if I told you.”

“I should be allowed to not go!”

“I know! You are!” Admitting his defeat, Wooyoung huffs in the acceptance of his wrongdoing. “We can go if you want to, I'm sorry. I thought it would be fun, something to loosen you up a bit since you're a little—“

“Uptight?” Hongjoong asserts, but Wooyoung only tilts his head and grins halfway.

“Questioning, doofus,” he finishes the thought, and Hongjoong sighs in relief at the fact that he was wrong in his assumption. “We can go, seriously. If you want to go we should.”

Hongjoong can tell from the gentleness in his tone that he means it. Young and experienced and into...God knows what; yes, Wooyoung fucked up, and he was ready and willing to admit as much.

Figure, the both of them were already there, what could giving it a spin really hurt, after all?

“No—no,” Hongjoong stutters out, shaking off the last bit of visible nerves he had gripping his chest. “It's fine, I just...wasn't expecting this, is all. It's kind of a lot without a primer.”

“A primer,” Wooyoung snorts, grabbing Hongjoong by the wrist once again and pulling him — this time right along side instead of behind him.

“What? That's a thing people say it's not just like...an art thing, god.”

“I know, but coming from you it's just so especially...Art-Ho.”

“Says the guy with the shitty, washed out ten-dollar kool-aid dye job,” the older of the two bites back for the first time in their friendship. “It's cool, I used to dye my hair the same way when I was twelve.”

Hongjoong watches the features on Wooyoung's face change in a way they never have before; eyes widening in surprise and eyebrows raising in ways that Hongjoong knows the man just next to him used to seeing on his face instead. The turning of the tables feels pretty damn good, though.

“Careful baby,” Wooyoung snorts, tone obviously playful in response. “Get mouthy with me and I'll throw the art-twink to the wolves.”

Hongjoong wishes then and there that he could pinpoint the origin of the way his heart beats in particular at the liberal use of the pet name directed his way.

Without any time to think it over, Wooyoung raises his free hand to wave towards a woman standing in the kitchen with a silver, mirrored platter — atop it residing four, long-stemmed, glasses filled with a golden, bubbling liquid that would surely be an alcoholic beverage of some sort.

“Baby!”

The woman in question calling it out towards Wooyoung, Hongjoong figures it just a word casually thrown about, after all.

He also ignores that odd sinking in his chest at the realization.

“You didn't come last time I didn't know if you would be here tonight!”

Hongjoong watches on as the woman dotes on Wooyoung — fingers in his hair and hands on his face as if a woman fawning over a favorite niece or nephew — it's sort of charming and innocent, Hongjoong thinks to himself. Another absolutely bizarre oddity given their surroundings.

Suppose kinky people are just people, though. A concept often unspoken and long forgotten.

“Yeah, I had a big test I had to cram for so I couldn't take time out.”

“Good,” the woman coos, playfully switching her demeanor to stern just after with a finger pointed up and towards his face. “School's more important, prioritize that.”

“Yes, mother,” Wooyoung responds coyly.

Smiling again, the woman turns her attention to Hongjoong. “Who's your friend? I think this is the first time you've ever used your plus-one.”

“Friend I met last week at a house party, we hit it off so I kidnapped him and smuggled him into a crazy sex party so he knows exactly what he's getting into when becoming friends with me.”

Eyes wide at the words, Hongjoong slowly turns his head to look at Wooyoung, a million questions bouncing violently around in his brain before the shrill pleasantry of the woman cuts through and interrupts the words he was likely never to get out of his mouth to begin with.

“Awww, that's so lovely!” she says, as if nothing strange had been said by Wooyoung at all. “As long as he knows the rules: two drink maximum, condoms are a must at all times, be kind, safe and respectful! You're cute but we absolutely will remove you and blacklist you in a five hundred mile radius if we must.”

The boy with the brown hair can hear the kindness in the woman's voice, but mixed with it the absolute seriousness in her words. He knows that she means business, and that these sorts of things — when managed and hosted properly, are not to play around with. Safety is everyone's number one priority — as it should be, and anyone who becomes a threat to that is not welcomed. Not then, and not ever. He appreciates the sentiment, but—

“We're not going to be getting into anything tonight,” Wooyoung cuts in with the same thought that Hongjoong is having that very same second. “I just wanted to show him around, you know, what's a little sex party hopping between pals?”

Content in the fact that he and his younger keeper remain on the same page in the scenario, Hongjoong takes it upon himself to bow out of the conversation slightly — taking a few steps behind and back where they came from in order to get a glance of his surroundings better. With the initial horror having largely worn off, he finds it within himself to enjoy the sights, sounds and scents of the goings on; at the end of the day, it's really just people enjoying themselves. People being happy. People being safe.

“You new?”

The words coming in so deep and heavy, Hongjoong finds himself not only startled but unsure whether or not they're intended for him — turning to his left and peaking into the corridor to find another man — arms crossed and leaned against the marble walling, Hongjoong looks around himself if for no reason other than to confirm that it couldn't possibly be anyone but him that had been addressed.

“Um, yeah, with a friend,” he answers, attempting to sound more confident in the interaction than he feels.

“You bottom? You look like you bottom.”

Not a question Hongjoong has put much thought into, and not necessarily one he cares to put thought into right this moment, he feels the shrill tingle of discomfort and alarm shoot down his spine at the inquiry. Not good. Very bad thing, actually. Too much, and way too fast.

“I—I don't—“

And with the man shuffling slowly towards Hongjoong, he takes his first step backwards, only to be met by the firm chest of another person at his shoulder.

Not at all comforting, given the situation, until he cocks his head up and to the side to find that all too familiar and in this case — extremely comforting, horrendous dye job.

“Back off, man.”

The words sound stern from Wooyoung in a way that Hongjoong can't place. Perhaps in a way that he's never quite heard before, either. Hands in his pockets, standing strong and in place as he looks past Hongjoong and out towards the man in question.

“He yours, then?”

“He's not yours,” Wooyoung amends. “And make no mistake, Lady Arcus will be hearing about this.”

Hongjoong watches the man scoff, rolling his eyes at the gesture. “I didn't even do anything, why the fuck is he here if he's not going to play?”

“Yeah, alright, you're gone.”

Before Hongjoong can even really follow the goings on, especially in accordance to the rules of an establishment and sub-culture so foreign to him, Wooyoung is shouting into the kitchen for the woman he had just been conversing with.

“We're gonna go,” Wooyoung whispers down towards Hongjoong's ear. “Just give me a second to let her know what happened.”

“O-okay—“

Just as quickly as the scenario begins, it ends. The woman known as Lady Arcus swiftly sorting through the identifying information of the man in question to pass along and through the kink circuits for other people to be wary of — the two men air kiss her twice before heading out and on their way — a slew of weary apologies and warming send offs showered on Hongjoong by her and other caring onlookers as Wooyoung delicately leads Hongjoong out of the building and down the three, concrete steps towards the street.

Hands on his hips, he pauses in place — removing one hand from his side in order to card it through his pale hair.

“Man, I'm so fuckin' sorry, dude,” he begins, the disappointment heavy in his voice. “I feel so bad, I've been to so many of these things and nothing like that has ever happened.”

Hongjoong can hear the guilt so laden in his voice. It certainly was disappointment, but more than anything, disappointment in himself.

“It's fine, really,” Hongjoong insists, chuckling lightly. “Not the first time I've been aggressively hit on, I'll survive.”

“Yeah I'm sure, it's just—“ and Wooyoung pauses to collect his thoughts, frowning as he does in the cool nights breeze. “I fucked up. Big time. I shouldn't have brought you here to begin with and I'm sorry.”

‘I'm sorry.’

And in the moment, Hongjoong doesn't know what comes over him. A combination of the adrenaline of the scenario just before mixed with the intoxicating, encompassing feeling of being seen and heard by someone — he thinks that despite all of this being new, everything about this situation being new, completely uncharted waters, that the one thing he knows right here, right now, is this.

That sometimes there is nothing more beautiful in a moment than romanticizing everything ugly and decaying about it — give it a new life, remember it by the way that it's reborn by your own doing.

One slow step towards Wooyoung, then the second much quicker, Hongjoong reaches out and for the mans wrist — grasping it into his hand and closing the distance between the two of them in an instant. It's not the height difference that brings Hongjoong to his tip toes, maybe the nerves and necessity within to feel bigger, stronger, more confident in the decision as he attempts to pull Wooyoung against him and just as messily — their mouths.

And Hongjoong almost manages it in time before Wooyoung catches on and meets the other with just enough resistance to send him reeling.

“Okay, wait, wait—“ Wooyoung starts, wanting to clear the air just as quickly as he surely has muddled it. “Look, first of all, I'm not against that.”

He's making his best effort to actually hear the words coming out of Wooyoung's mouth — through the humiliation of the drowning feeling of rejection, especially in such a raw moment — he promises himself that he won't cry. Not now, not tonight, and not over a man he's barely known for a week.

“Are you listening to me?”

Snapping out of his daze, all of the worst thoughts and feelings festering and making themselves home in his head and heart, Hongjoong nods along — looking forward to getting home and never having to see this man again thereafter.

“I know this feels shitty right now, I know it does,” Wooyoung insists, grabbing at Hongjoong's hands and attempting to lace fingers together with no help from the other party, he sighs at the response. “Just...slow down, okay? Tonight's been kind of crazy.”

Silence takes them, another couple happily giggling to one another as they exit the building and walk past the two boys on the sidewalk. Wooyoung can see the pain in Hongjoong's features — the disappointment, the weakness.

“Let me take you home, sleep this off, and everything will be fine tomorrow. Look, I know it feels so shitty right now I know it does but I swear to god I'll make out with you for an hour when you're not traumatized from going to a sex party you never wanted to be at to begin with, okay?”

Hongjoong has to give it to the man, he certainly has a way with words. Not being able to fight the smile that cracks through his lips, Wooyoung's also breaks in response, a sigh of relief following shortly after.

“Okay? Can I take you home?”

“Yeah, okay.”

In the months that follow, Hongjoong finds that much to his surprise, Wooyoung seemingly has every intention of staying true to his word. Having a text to wake up to from the rich boy with the awful dye-job despite the previous nights activities, Hongjoong feels relief wash over him as he sets his phone back down on the night stand and rolls back over and onto his stomach.

The grin is embarrassing, he's thankful that he lives alone.

And every morning there after comes texts from Wooyoung. Be it just a thought he has from the night previous or a picture of a new restaurant that's opening around his side of town that he hopes for the two of them to try some time in the near future — Hongjoong feels a sense of belonging, a sense of inclusion that he's not sure he's ever really felt any time before then.

It's late one random evening on a school night, that Hongjoong has himself sat on the couch in the living room with his current project being sewn with nimble fingers that he comes to terms with things for the first time ever, really.

A 90s romcom playing on the television before him, the lights dancing along his features and the white walls of his student housing that he sighs to himself and finally feels ready to think the words without question: 'I have a crush on him.'

Naturally, navigating the uncertainty of ones sexuality always comes with its own set of questions and unknowing. Hongjoong accepts that he's well aware that his crush on Wooyoung could be a culmination of so many things, not even necessarily a romantic interest.

The truth of the matter is that Jung Wooyoung is an attractive man, who is attracted to men, and shows an interest in Hongjoong. For a boy just inching himself out of the proverbial closet, nothing sounds better, more inviting — easier.

And over the months, Wooyoung only lends himself to being more and more attached to Hongjoong's side.

When Hongjoong finds out that Wooyoung's major in school is Psych, it clicks a little bit more — a deeper understanding of why it is that the man may have been drawn to such a closet-case as the oldest of them seemed to be — deeply repressed and unsure and insecure, truly a cocktail of discovery for a budding student all too happy to pick apart someone's brain to learn a thing or two.

He was sure it was part of it, but Wooyoung was respectful enough, caring enough — to not make Hongjoong feel like his own sort of school project. A science experiment that someday Wooyoung would write his thesis on and that's all that Hongjoong would ever really be to him.

The irony in and of the fact that for those so unsure of themselves and of those around them, firsts and seconds often end up being nothing more than romanticized teenaged tales we tell when we're older; our first love, childish and wild and special in its own right, but ultimately — unimportant and inconsequential.

Perhaps Wooyoung knew that the likelihood of him ending up fitted into such a box in Hongjoong's future was high.

“This party blows,” Wooyoung sighs into his plastic cup, back up against the fake marble counter top in the kitchen of someone that, as usual, neither of them had ever met before. “Why did we come out here?”

“It was your idea,” Hongjoong chuckles, tossing a pretzel into his mouth as he settles himself the same next to his friend. “Nothing better to do on a Tuesday night.”

“Homework.”

“Awww, so studious,” Hongjoong mocks, elbowing the boy next to him and causing him to flinch.

“Give it a rest, would you. This place is a drag, I'm about to go make out with someone's girlfriend just to feel something.”

“Now that I would like to see.”

“Ew, look at you, voyeur.”

“Says the guy that took me to a fucking kink party on our first date.” Hongjoong giggles, shoving more pretzels into his mouth.

“That!” Wooyoung begins, finger in the air as if intending to make a point. “—was a mistake, and I have apologized profusely for it, how long must I be punished for it,” he finishes, sulking into the last few words playfully.

“Not punishing you, but you have to admit it's a hilarious story to tell.”

“Indeed, we'll tell our partners a few years down the line over drinks and a threesome, I'm sure.”

“Okay I take back what I previously said, that is what I'd really like to see,” Hongjoong says, leaning over and to the side towards an open bottle of some sort of liquor as he takes it and pours a bit into his cup. “Imagine how crazy that would be.”

“Professional Super Special Guest Star! That's what my business cards will say,” Wooyoung chuckles, taking another swig of his drink before handing the cup to Hongjoong for him to fill as well.

Taking it, Hongjoong shakes loose, brown strands of hair out of his face gently in order to pour the liquid, smile wide at the make believe scenario they've concocted as a result of their boredom.

“So, professional threesome guy? Not counting on the Psych stuff working out?”

“Au contraire, mi amor,” Wooyoung begins, a devilish grin replacing his once playful one and leaning his face in closer towards Hongjoong's. “I very much intend on doing both.”

Turning his head only enough to allow the corners of his eyes to meet Wooyoung's, Hongjoong responds with a roll of them — snorting through his nose at the thought, but mostly because he knows that Wooyoung is being extremely honest about that fact.

Pulling back, Wooyoung takes another sip of his drink, fingers running through freshly dyed but still not great looking purple hair. “You know,” he starts, slightly more serious sounding than just moments before. “You've gotten so much more used to my antics now, I don't even make you the slightest bit uncomfortable when I get into your space! Look at the baby, all grown up!”

“I'm older than you,” Hongjoong replies, looking at him with a pressed eyebrow as if not appreciating the tone. “And yes, suppose eventually anyone could get used to—“ pausing, Hongjoong waves a hand in and around the younger mans general vicinity next to him. “—all of this.”

It's a silent response, just a smile and a nod from the man — as if admiring some artwork of his own. Eyes falling over the confident man that Hongjoong had become just before his very own — well-spoken and aware of himself and more accepting of himself, at that. Wooyoung, of course, wouldn't be himself if he didn't accept some credit for it, for the obvious influence he had on him.

He's thankful that it's been positive, and more than anything, he's thankful that he gets to see it and experience it. A Kim Hongjoong that's smart, talented, creative, open, thoughtful, understanding; and more than anything else, willing. Willing to listen, willing to bend, willing to give.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words throw him through a loop a bit, if he's honest. Earnest features on Hongjoong's face as he asks the question — comfortable and confident. Two of the things the man never was when they met.

Oh, how time flies.

Hongjoong watches as Wooyoung scans his face over, presumably attempting to find any tell, any reason at all that he should advise against such a thing. One side of his mouth curling upwards and into a slight grin, Wooyoung glances around them at their surroundings — a few strangers, empty cups with spilled alcohol all over the counter tops and a broken glass in the sink — before landing back on Hongjoong.

“Here? In the middle of the kitchen?”

Hongjoong laughs, the coyness in Wooyoung's voice answer enough to his inquiry but unable to give a straight on answer unless it suits him — or he absolutely has to. In his mind, he worries for the future clientele of the man that would be having to deal with him, and how thankful he is that he may never end up on that couch looking for advice in the future.

That doesn't mean he's not going to fucking kiss him, though, because he's been waiting too long and he absolutely is.

Despite Hongjoong leaning in first, asking for permission first; it's a daunting, new, first experience — not only kissing another man, but doing so in public. Safety not a concern and for that he is thankful, but he is also thankful for the subtle guidance of Wooyoung in the moment as he also steps forward to match him — a gentle hand reaching up and towards Hongjoong's face to delicately hold him as their lips finally meet for the first time. Not the first time either of them have kissed another person — romantically or sexually, but Wooyoung can feel the tremble from Hongjoong all the same. The sensation of newness, of unsureness.

Sometimes, the kiss is all it takes to know where you stand on the matter. The more experienced one of the two knowing better than anyone that this may be the first and the last time that Hongjoong kisses a man.

But it also might not be.

Standing outside of Wooyoung's apartment, keys in hand, he smiles gently at the man just before him — it's a conversation that he knows should happen, and truthfully, he's not too attached that the rejection will torment him all that much — but rejection is such all the same, and never feels good no matter how inviting of it you may have been.

“So,” he starts, carefully untying his scarf with intent to walk inside shortly after. “How was it? How do you feel about it?”

Hongjoong looks at him wide-eyed, a look that Wooyoung thinks he hasn't seen on him in so long now. Taken aback, caught off guard — as if Hongjoong had never even considered the fact that he should think about what had taken place back there in that kitchen.

“Good,” is all he manages out at first before realizing that the man in question may require more. “It felt good, but weird.”

“New weird or straight weird?” he asks, a gust of wind blowing lavender hair into his hair at just the very same moment.

But without skipping a beat, Hongjoong replies immediately. Confidently. Without any question lacing his tone — setting Wooyoung's nerves to rest for the night in accomplished bliss.

“New weird.”

Upon entering Wooyoung's apartment, Hongjoong finds himself to be a bit shocked at what he finds. He supposes, that in some way, he expected more. Wooyoung — the eccentric type that he was — a kinkster at that, perhaps with harnesses and whips and chains adorning his abode. Looking back on whatever subconscious, preconceived notion he may have had prior to entering, it was a bit far-fetched. Unlikely for a guy barely in his twenties to effectively be residing inside of a sex shop, Hongjoong chuckles to himself under his breath as he takes the sights in for the first time: dark blue wallpapering and black couches, colorful, abstract paintings hanging from a handful of different places — so meticulously and deliberately decorated in such a high class, sensual sort of way that now that he's experiencing it, is so much more fitting of the man in question than anything else he may have previously had in mind.

The faint scent of musk and wood over taking Hongjoong's senses just then at the thought, his eyes landing on the large, three-wicked handle that it surely had been coming from even in spite of not having been lit at that moment — he finds comfort in it. In his surroundings.

In Wooyoung.

“Want something to drink?” the man offers from the kitchen, already pulling open the large, stainless steel door to the refrigerator. Hongjoong declines however, settling himself down at one of the stools in front of the kitchen island. Black marbling with white accenting — only a lone, silver, paper towel holder sitting atop it before the glass of water that Wooyoung pours himself finds itself set down there as well, the man seating himself shortly after.

“Wow, this is the first time you've been here, isn't it?”

Hongjoong nods, eyes still wandering and taking it all in.

“Like what you see?”

It's a joke, Hongjoong knows that. A coy, play on the typical pick up line. Not that he'd be all that opposed, regardless. He thinks. He's pretty sure, anyways.

“Can I ask you something?” Hongjoong finally says, eyes settling themselves onto Wooyoung's across from him.

“Shoot.”

He pauses, mulling over the words before allowing for their exit.

“What are you gonna do with the whole...lifestyle thing? Ya know, when you graduate and land in your career. Can't imagine most people would be so open-minded about what their therapist likes to do in his off time.”

One corner of his lip curling upward, Wooyoung takes a sip of his drink, only to shrug with the utmost nonchalance. “Keep doing what I do. I'm not going to stop.”

The answer is both shocking an quintessentially Jung Wooyoung simultaneously.

“The thing is,” he begins again, leaning forward to press an elbow into the marble as his chin sits atop his hand. “Can't stop being me and living my life. Not for my family, not for a partner, and definitely not for a job. Part of the reason I even wanted to get into this line of work was to specialize in that sort of thing anyways.”

“The sex?”

“The talking about sex, yeah.”

In listening to him, it makes sense. Hongjoong smiles delicately at the man across the marble. “Have you been psychoanalyzing me our entire friendship?”

It's a joke, but not really.

“Of course, it's not really something I can just turn off, but I'm not your therapist — or even a therapist, yet, so it's not really my place to diagnose you, if that's what you're asking.”

Reaching across and to Wooyoung's glass, Hongjoong slides it towards himself to take a sip before responding. “I guess, kind of.”

“Therapy isn't a punishment,” Wooyoung begins again, almost out of the blue, from how Hongjoong hears it. And it sounds pointed. “We all have stuff.”

“Enlighten me,” Hongjoong says, looking up and over the rim of the glass as he sips from it again.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. It's obvious that Hongjoong is fishing for the kind of thing that he doesn't necessarily want to give him, but in the spirit of not wanting to leave him hanging — plays along. A little.

“What? Like how you still haven't confessed your little crush to me?”

Choking on a third sip, Wooyoung can't help but giggle at the reaction as Hongjoong pulls one of his long sleeves even further forward to wipe the liquid from his chin.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You kissed me.”

“Then why do I have to say it!”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes again. “Non-verbal communication is communication, but being able to verbalize it is a skill. One you desperately need to work at. Actions speak louder than words but we are still a verbal society at large.”

Hongjoong pauses to take the words in. He knows that there's truth in them, however difficult it may be for him to parse. A young man having spent the majority of his life growing up in, reflecting through, feeling through art — numerous methods of non-verbally expressing himself — Wooyoung was correct in saying that it was a skill, and one that Hongjoong had long since left by the wayside.

“I don't know if I have a crush, really—“ he finally responds, reluctantly making eye contact through the sort-of confession. “I think I'm terrified of saying things and them not being true.”

“And you never feel confident enough in anything you feel to say it.”

“Basically.”

Standing up, Wooyoung pulls the now empty glass from Hongjoong's nervous, busy fingers — turning towards the sink and placing it within before turning again and leaning against that very spot.

“It's okay to be wrong. You're going to be wrong. That's a part of life.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“What do you think is going to happen if you tell someone you have a crush on them, then you wake up the next day and don't anymore?” Wooyoung asks, shrugging and waving his hands about into the air around him. “Like, it's fine. That's your truth, you should live it. Experience it.”

“I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings if I don't have to, so I want to be sure, I guess.”

Huffing through his nose and cocking his head to the side, Wooyoung gazes upon Hongjoong with the utmost gentleness — it's a look that says 'oh, you sweet darling.' Hongjoong understands that in a way, it's somewhat condescending. Probably not purposefully, but it comes off as such.

Not that he really blames the man, though.

“You'll never be sure,” Wooyoung says, stepping towards Hongjoong and motioning him with a nod towards his bedroom. “Whatever sign you're looking for? It doesn't exist—“

And as he stands, Wooyoung tosses an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the fluffy, brown hair that he's grown to adore so much over their relatively short friendship.

“—You can just live. Just live.”

As they settle into bed together, Hongjoong accepts that it's a decision he's made long before that night — climbing into soft, dark sheets as the television in front of the bed flickers over them. Wooyoung asks if he needs anything before they settling in for the night, Hongjoong shakes his head, slowed by the vision of Wooyoung pulling his t-shirt up and over his head and flinging it across the room into the general direction of the laundry hamper. Making eye contact with the man, he can feel his ears redden at his being found out, pulling the sheets up only that much more in a pathetic attempt to hide from a man he's about to be sharing a bed with.

But Wooyoung only chuckles under his breath. “Do you want me to put something on? I don't mind, seriously. I hadn't really thought about it, is all.”

And Hongjoong knows that however he answers is much more telling than the actual words that come out of his mouth, but figure after tonight — after everything — may as well begin that whole communication thing that everyone seems to be on about these days.

“No, it's fine.”

Disheveled, lavender hair bouncing as he makes his own way into the comfort of his sheets, Hongjoong eyes him from his peripheral. It's not the first time he's shared a bed with a man, nor is it the first time he's shared a bed with someone that he...is sexually attracted to?

It's the first time that both of those things have been taking place at the same time, though.

Wooyoung — not particularly toned or built, but thick, sturdy, with heavenly tanned skin and despite how god fucking awful that dye-job may be, the contrast of it sure does only make his skin glow just that much more.

He watches Wooyoung idly stare forward and into the television, attempting to find a suitable viewing experience whilst Hongjoong has already found his.

The unfortunate tenting in his sweats much more telling than he was going to be verbally willing for a long time.

Inhaling deeply, Hongjoong thinks over all of the ways he's ever made a move on a woman he's slept with, and why this feels any different. Sure, it's a region of sex previously unexplored — but he's no virgin — so why this. Why is he being like this?

He makes a decision though, and hastily at that — inching his way over to Wooyoung and pressing himself against the man's side, head resting on his shoulder — only briefly taken aback, Wooyoung adjusts his arm to create space where Hongjoong wishes to reside next to him, but not without a knowing grin across his lips; which the older boy catches visual of, of course.

“You a cuddler?”

Hongjoong thinks it over for a second before responding — suddenly feeling like every experience brand new to him regardless of previous exploration.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Cute.”

“Wooyoung—“

“Yeah?”

But what's awaiting Wooyoung when he looks down towards Hongjoong isn't a man with a question, or with a comment of any kind. It's beady, expectant eyes looking back up at him — eyes full of anticipation, full of interest, and desire.

He's happy to oblige.

Pulling up and from under Hongjoong to readjust — a necessity in order to carry through with what's being asked of him — Wooyoung pauses seated for just a second as the other man lies back comfortably, as if to give him time to back out, to reassess the situation, but with no such argument made, he continues his follow through, leaning over and then down atop Hongjoong's torso and gently pressing plush, warm, lips to his. It's so light, barely felt at all at first — a testing of the waters, but it's Hongjoong that's the first to press in further, teeth grazing the bottom of Wooyoung's lip as he deepens the kiss. Pastel, purple hair cascading down around the two of them, Wooyoung's happy to meet him halfway in his intensity — teeth accidentally clashing together in one particularly fervent moment, and Hongjoong finds the situation to be escalating perhaps a bit faster than he had originally anticipated, if the hardness on him, and the one against his thigh were to be any indication.

Wooyoung pulls back momentarily, half-lidded eyes of his own looking down at another brown pair matching — readjusting his positioning again to have all of his weight on one side and freeing up his other hand, he makes no movement with it. Not before asking.

🍬🍬🍬

“Do you want me to touch you?”

The question sends a shiver down Hongjoong's spine — anticipation, anxiety, want, but not without that pang of horror — as if once a man touches his dick there's no going back, everything is forever changed.

As if it even matters.

He nods. Wooyoung shakes his head but still allows his hand to begin the slow descent beneath the sheets between them.

“Say it. What'd we talk about?”

“Oh my God,” Hongjoong huffs, sure that the man can feel the way his heart nearly beats straight through his chest on the way down, but feeling set ablaze by the touch all the same. “Yes, God you're so annoying.”

Fingers deftly dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants, the breath in Hongjoong's throat hitches as Wooyoung's lips curl expertly along the edge of his ear.

“God, but you like it so much.”

In the very moment, Hongjoong tries not to focus on how humiliating it would be to bust right then and there. Quickly trying to recall a moment where he's been talked dirty to before: and failing.

Anything like that: and failing.

A desperate attempt to get his mind off of the way Wooyoung's fingers curl around his length at that very moment — so foreign and warm despite having his dick touched before, by other people, something about it feeling so new.

And scary.

And it's in that moment that the sudden realization of what comes after this dawns on him. Kissing and touching, the easy stuff. It's all fun and games. Boys experimenting and having a laugh in college because they're horny and just want to try something out.

But if he is willing to suck dick? Tonight? Is he willing to take dick tonight, at that?

The thoughts are a little all-consuming and all of a sudden, taking him out of the moment in an instant and stiffening under Wooyoung's touch; he notices it immediately — stilling for a second, only to pull his hand back and face away from Hongjoong altogether.

This was always a possibility. There's always the chance that they land on the side of “no.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—“ he inhales deeply, closing his eyes to center himself again before opening them and looking at Wooyoung. “I'm fine. It's a lot. New.”

“We don't have to do anything.”

“I know,” Hongjoong replies immediately, worried that Wooyoung may think that he feels pressured. Pushed. Rushed. “I know that. It's me, not you.”

Wooyoung smiles gently at the response, relieved at having not crossed any boundaries before settling back into bed, but not before leaning in and kissing Hongjoong on his fluffy, brown head just as he had previously.

“Let's get some sleep, I'll touch your dick tomorrow if you want.”

“God, such a romantic.”

Wooyoung can't say he's all that surprised when he wakes up to the feeling of a strange hand gently inching it's way across his abdomen. Not expected, but not surprised, either.

Fingertips ghosting across the skin beneath the covers, barely conscious, he turns his head towards the guest in his bed, eyes seemingly equally sleepy but lucid all the same — he smiles softly at the experimental touches, only barely dipping under the elastic band of his pants — little intent behind it and almost certainly not bold enough to make any real moves towards anything more defining, he allows the movements to continue at Hongjoong's pace...slow, unsure, but interested all the same.

Then, hand driven further down, one lone fingertip grazing the length of Wooyoung's cock — standing tall by morning and attention it's receiving — he inhales sharply at the touch with eye contact maintained.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

And with brown hair messy and strewn across his face, Hongjoong nods, the words of affirmation following shortly after and without more prompting.

“Yes.”

Upon Wooyoung's insistence, they find themselves in the shower together — the first time they've seen the other bare, but more than that, with physical intent behind it. Hongjoong is surprised by how comfortable it feels to have Wooyoung's eyes and hands on him — stepping behind to scrub Hongjoong's back and gently pressing kisses to the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, he closes his eyes and takes it in.

Acceptance, maybe. The moment in which he finally, truly comes to terms with himself and all that comes with that.

Settling back into the sheets from which they came, Hongjoong lies back, head against the pillow as Wooyoung settles between his legs — a pile of potential essentials off and to the side of the bed, he attempts to put it out of his mind for the time being.

Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the journey.

“If it gets to be too much just let me know,” Wooyoung insists as he pushes the covers to the bedding off of the edge to make room for himself to lie on his stomach. “We can always stop, any time. You don't have to do anything just because we've started.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hongjoong huffs out, eyes rolling up and towards the ceiling as Wooyoung brings a familiar hand up and curls fingers around his dick again. One, slow, pump — then a second, and Hongjoong feels Wooyoung adjusting his positioning again before the warm, wetness of a mouth takes him. Familiar, not the first time, not really.

Bringing a hand down and into Wooyoung's hair, he makes it a point to force his focus down, as well. To truly take the moment in. It's not a scenario in which he wants to pretend that it's anything other than what it is: you don't have to disassociate. You don't have to pretend it's not a man — not Wooyoung — it is, and that's okay, because it's what you want.

Wooyoung hollows his cheeks, taking Hongjoong further back, and fingers gripping into pastel hair, he inhales sharply, back of his head pressing hard into the pillow just beneath it.

“God, good,” he exhales, Wooyoung hums in response. “I think I'm gonna come soon, though.”

Huffing through his nostrils as he pulls off of the man beneath him, Wooyoung grins as he meets eyes with Hongjoong once again. “Already? Man, you're an easy sell. You don't want to come?”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong answers, thinking it over after having already given an answer but wanting to be sure. “Yeah, not yet.”

Wooyoung shrugs, so casual about the whole ordeal it's almost as if nothing sexual is going on at all. Hongjoong can't help but admit that he finds his nonchalance comforting, in a way.

That Wooyoung is going to be Wooyoung no matter what, and at all costs.

A pause between the two of them before Hongjoong speaks up again. “Do you want me...to...”

Cocking his head to the side, confusion lacing his features for just a split second before realizing what it is that his friend is on about, he laughs. “Oh, you mean suck my dick? I mean, if you want, you don't have to.”

“I feel like I should—“

But Wooyoung stops him dead in the sentence. “Don't do anything because you feel like you should. The fundamental rules of being a good lover: GGG. Good, Giving, and Game.”

“What...is that?” Hongjoong asks, unsurprised by the fact that this has somehow turned into Wooyoung's kinky educational hour. It always was going to be that to some degree, after all.

“Good in bed, Giving of equal time and pleasure, and Game for anything...within reason,” he explains, “always, always the within reason, part. If you're not ready, you're not ready.”

Hongjoong watches his face for a moment, truly taking the concept in despite having just mocked the concept in his mind (all in good fun, of course), and nods once.

“I think...I want to wait.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Wooyoung acknowledges, leaning over and to the side to grab the small pile of items that had previously been discarded that way. “Do you still want to...do this?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Cool, see? No worries, I'll cum anyways, doesn't matter.”

And Hongjoong likes how normal Wooyoung is about the whole thing, making the situation feel so much less big than maybe it is to him. Everything is whatever and doesn't matter or no big deal and it's consoling, in a strange way.

He also notices the tingle up his spine at hearing the way Wooyoung just so casually talks about coming...as a result of him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Wooyoung asks, popping open the cap of the translucent bottle but pausing before expelling any of the liquid onto his fingers.

“You know I haven't,” he replies, briefly pulling his head up and off the pillow to look at the man between his legs like he's an insane person.

“I mean, by yourself,” Wooyoung amends, playfully slapping the inside of one of Hongjoong's thighs. “Or, I guess with a woman. You ever been pegged?”

Hongjoong can feel the familiar heat of humiliation burning up inside of his ears already.

“No...no to both questions.”

Humming at the response first, Wooyoung bites hit bottom lip as if to be thinking. “Okay, well, we'll take it very slow. Also you should let your girlfriend peg you, ya know, when you have one. Assuming this goes as well as we'd hope, anyways.”

“You talk so much,” Hongjoong whines as Wooyoung coats two fingers with lubricant, setting the bottle back to the side and out of the way.

“Yeah but you kinda like it, right? Kind of a hard sell to say you don't when you want me to fuck you in the as—“

“Can you not!?” Hongjoong groans out loudly now, upper body pulling off of the bed completely to look up at Wooyoung — knelt steadily between his legs and hand only just an inch off from their intended goal. The two men make eye contact, pause, then laugh — Hongjoong settling right back down into place.

“Okay, okay,” the more experienced of the two begins. “Gonna be honest with you, this first bit isn't gonna feel that great, but let me know if it gets to be too much, if you want me out just say 'out'”

“Yeah, I've heard, alright.”

With his middle finger sufficiently lubed, Wooyoung begins his slow press inside of Hongjoong — immediately met with anticipated resistance, he turns his attention up and onto the face of the boy in which he's penetrating — scanning his features for any sense of needing to remove himself at once, Hongjoong only winces slightly at the intrusion. One knuckle in, Wooyoung pauses, asking him how he feels, and Hongjoong nods to signify that it's okay to continue.

Second knuckle, Wooyoung pauses again, this time noticing visibly more discomfort splashed across the features of the man beneath him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you feel?”

Hongjoong pauses before answering, inhaling shallowly. “Uncomfortable. Not unbearable, though. God, how many fingers do you have in me right now?”

Wooyoung chuckles at the innocence of the question. “One, dude.”

“One!?” Hongjoong shouts, absolute disbelief in his tone in a way that Wooyoung isn't sure he's ever heard from his friend before, as if the idea of there not being an entire fist inside of him right now be so impossibly foreign that he hadn't even considered it to be the case. “Jesus Christ.”

“It gets easier, first time can be a little rough.”

“How are we—“ Hongjoong stops mid sentence, choosing his words over again. “You're...big.”

“Yeah, uh—“ Wooyoung snorts, a single finger still lodged within Hongjoong as the conversation carries on. “Pros of dealing with me is I know what I'm doing and I'll do my best to take care of you, cons being...well, it's gonna be a snug fit.”

“Arguably not even physically possible.”

“I don't have to fuck you, I won't be disappointed.”

“I know, it's not that, just—“ Hongjoong's thoughts interrupted by Wooyoung pulling from him gently and pressing back in. “Have you ever bottomed?”

“Of course,” Wooyoung happily admits, delicately finger fucking Hongjoong as the conversation carries on. “I like sex, I'll try just about anything.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, I'm the one that told you to get pegged, remember?”

“God, that conversation feels like it happened so long ago already,” Hongjoong huffs out, slinging an arm over his face as he attempts to get used to the feeling of being penetrated.

“I'm gonna add another finger.”

Pulling from him, pairing his ring finger with his middle, and adding a bit more lube, Wooyoung presses forward again into the small amount of progress he's made on Hongjoong, this time receiving an audible wince at the considerably thicker intrusion — fingers gripping into the sheets beneath him, Hongjoong bites into his bottom lip, screwing his eyes shut in spite of them being obstructed by his arm.

He thinks it feels as though he's being torn open, not that he particularly wants to tell Wooyoung that.

“How does it feel?”

Breathy and quick, Hongjoong can only huff out an “okay.”

Two knuckles deep again, Wooyoung stills inside of him to allow him time to adjust. “Let me know when you want me to move.”

“Is this really better than just going straight in with dick?” Hongjoong questions, ignoring Wooyoung's sentiment entirely for his own. Flustered, horny, and uncomfortable, he writhes under Wooyoung's touch. “It feels...torturous.”

“I know, but I promise it's better to take it slow. It'll get easier the more you do it,” he insists. “You should have experimented more on your own. I feel like men have usually shoved something up their ass experimentally by the time they're twenty-three.”

“I missed the memo.”

“So it seems. I'm going to move.”

It's a dull ache, uncomfortable pull when Wooyoung drags his fingers out of Hongjoong and presses them back in. Once, twice, three times, before he stills inside again — deeper this time, Hongjoong can tell.

“I'm going to try something, let me know if anything feels different.”

“What do you mean different?”

“Like, good different. You'll know.”

Hongjoong waits for a few moments, only barely being able to feel the way that Wooyoung is allegedly fishing around inside of him, until a split second hits where his nerves light up like fireworks, muscles in his abdomen tensing violently at the touch.

“Jesus, that— what was that?”

“Ah, found it, good. I'm gonna suck your dick again, try not to come immediately since you said you didn't want to yet.”

Barely able to get the words of compliance out before it feels as though life itself gets stuck in his throat, Hongjoong feels that particular, sudden, explosion of nerves in his fingertips all over again as Wooyoung presses deep and takes him into his mouth again. He knows what it is, he's knowledgeable enough to be aware.

But fuck, he did not know it was going to be that fucking good.

And as good as it is, he's embarrassed by how quick it gets him there, only three or four bobs of Wooyoung's head down on his cock before Hongjoong is urging him over and over again to stop, that he's close, and Wooyoung just giggles again as he pulls off.

“God, you have no stamina, I hope you're better with pussy.”

“Well I wasn't the first time.”

“Fair enough. Do you want to try?”

‘Do you want to try?’

Famous last words.

Hongjoong exhales heavily, as if accepting a fate he hadn't already accepted long before they had even gotten to this point. The faint, comforting scent of pine sweeping through his senses just in that moment. As if to tell him he's in good hands. A sign.

A sign from the higher powers that be: have that man fuck you in the ass.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

So casual about the whole thing.

Reaching over again and grabbing the metallic packaging, for some reason Hongjoong finds it surprising as he hears the tearing — moving his arm to look down at the scene between his legs. Wooyoung catches the subtle shock on his features and questions him about it. “What? You didn't think I'd wear a condom? After where I've been?”

“No, I don't know. I don't really know what to expect in any of this, I don't think.”

“Do you want me to not wear one?”

Hongjoong thinks on it for a second. “I think? Kind of?”

But Wooyoung frowns at the response, carrying on with the unpackaging of the rubber. “Bad answer. You should always use protection, unless you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I think it's the intimacy?”

Leaning forward as he rolls the condom down and onto himself, Wooyoung plants a kiss atop one of Hongjoong's knees. “It's still intimate. If this goes well we can get tested together and then I'll fuck you raw, how about that for romantics?”

Hongjoong attempts to ignore the way the words make his dick twitch, perhaps a little too interested in the idea of being fucked open and raw by Wooyoung — instead, he opts for a simple nod, and allowing his arm to fall over his face once again.

Lubed up fingers inside of him again, gently prying him open for what's to come, he inhales deeply as he feels Wooyoung adjust between his legs, lining himself up at his entrance with the exit of the digits and ever so delicately pressing forward with his hips.

Only a few centimeters in, Wooyoung stills, watching the features of Hongjoong's that he's able to see. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong hums in response. Not Wooyoung's ideal reply, but it'll do, given the circumstances. continuing his drive forward, Wooyoung reaches down, hand along Hongjoong's waist to keep him in place as he slowly sinks in. Eyes locked on bitten lips and messy brown hair the whole time until fully encompassed by his body, Wooyoung stills again, swallowing down hard the primal, gut, desire to fuck the boy dumb at the stupefying, warm, tightness.

But he has to be better than that. It's his job, after all.

“How's it feel?”

Throat dry, Hongjoong finally takes a deep breath before answering. “A lot.”

“Yeah, I know. I won't move until you tell me to.”

“I think you should.”

“Are you sure?” Wooyoung questions, tone worrying and unsure.

“Yes, but can you—“ and Hongjoong pulls his arm away from his face, using the same hand to motion for the man inside of him to close the distance between the two. Wooyoung smiles at the gesture, gently readjusting and leaning in so that he lies atop Hongjoong completely.

“Better?”

“I don't know, please move. Do that thing again.”

Wooyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Bottoms are always so demanding, yes baby, as you wish.”

Hongjoong opts to ignore the pet name (a little bit) in favor of focusing on the sensation, and the sensation that he hopes to follow soon once Wooyoung finds the angle with his cock that he had just earlier found by hand, but he's thankful that it doesn't take long at all — and perhaps these are some of the joys of a first time with someone more experienced — that four, five gentle presses into Hongjoong and he's seeing stars all over again as the tip of Wooyoung's length meets that particular bundle of nerves. Toes curling and fingers dancing up and into Wooyoung's hair at the sensation, all he can manage is a breathy “fuck” in response to it.

“Good, right?” Wooyoung toys with him, lips dragging across the hot skin of Hongjoong's neck and jaw as he continues short, shallow thrusts to keep up the feeling that the man beneath him desires so much. “Don't forget to breathe.”

A bit of a funny reminder, Hongjoong finds, once he realizes that he had, in fact, been holding his breath for who knows how long. Wooyoung experimentally withdrawing just a bit further than he had been before driving back in — with it, the first full, resounding moan falling from Hongjoong's mouth.

Wooyoung thinks maybe he shouldn't have made fun of Hongjoong's inability to last just earlier in the morning.

“Do you want me to stroke your cock?” Wooyoung mumbles against skin, already reaching down and between them, and Hongjoong can barely find the breath much less the words to response anything coherent.

“I—I'll—“ is all he can whimper out between faster, fuller drives of Wooyoung into him. Wooyoung knows that he's attempting to say that he'll come, and not wanting to give away the fact that he's not too far from the same, simply nudges him even more towards that inevitability.

“So? you can come,” Wooyoung whispers between kisses and feathery nips into the flesh of his ear and jaw, his own high fast approaching and fingers gripping tight around Hongjoong's slick, pre-cum soaked cock. “You've been so good, take me so good, you can come.”

“Fuck, don't—“ but before he can make a plea, the rush of pleasure is already washing over him, ripping through his body like an orgasm never before experienced in his life — fingers gripping tight into lilac hair and back arching as repeated, whispered expletives drip from his mouth and ropes of cum cover otherwise tan, talented fingers. But Wooyoung is relieved at the sights and sounds, allowing himself the three or four hard, full pumps into the man beneath him before he buries himself in as deep as he can manage and empties himself into the condom with gritted teeth and a loud groan.

Chests heaving, first out of sync but eventually falling into unison, Wooyoung quickly pulls himself together enough to gently pull himself from Hongjoong and roll off of him, removing and tying off the condom before tossing it into the bedside waste bin.

Flopping onto the bed once again to enjoy the post-sex bliss, Wooyoung hesitantly turns his head to look at a weary, sleepy, and fucked out Hongjoong — arm tossed across his face once again and a seemingly unstoppable upward curve of his lips taking his features as he desperately attempts to collect his breath.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong sighs heavily, pulling his arm from his face only to turn his head to meet Wooyoung's gaze.

“I definitely like men.”

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