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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

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The more you hate

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: They say there is a thin line between love and hate. But they never told him crossing that line was dangerous. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Power imbalance, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, he was serving looks for days in Paris that I knew I had to do this 😭 this is an 8k one-shot. I hope you enjoy!

Jung Hoseok’s smile faltered when you entered the dressing room, much to Jimin’s amusement. He was in the middle of a sentence, literally in the middle and the moment you entered, Hobi faltered. This was not the first time. No- this had been happening ever since you became one of the group’s temporary staff. It had been three months now, and not a day went by that he did not flounder when you entered the room he was in.

One may think it was because the main dancer liked you.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Hobi could not stand you. He could not even smile at you. He could not even mention your name without gagging. And yes, he was that dramatic.

Jimin watched his hyung as the said hyung followed your movement with daggers in his eyes. It entertained him to no end. He, together with the other members, could not pinpoint the reason why the seemingly always happy J-hope treated you that way. Regardless, he would take advantage of Hobi’s current state.

“So my take is okay now, right?” Jimin asked slyly, taking advantage of the fact that you were now here and that he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore on another take just because it was not up to his standard.

Hobi nodded absentmindedly, drinking from his water bottle as he kept on watching, well…more like glaring on your form.

“You don’t think I should move a little to the left, right?” Jimin clarified with mischief in his eyes. Hobi blinked before turning to him. He looked at the tablet he was holding where the dance record was transferred for him to review. He frowned before looking down at it again.

“Jimin, I think you should do-“

“Hey guys, back to studio in five minutes,” you passed on the order from the director, your smile pleasant and respectful as you looked at Jimin, and slowly shifted your gaze at the emotionless Hobi who didn’t even lift his eyes to look at you.

“Okay, Y/N. Thank you,” Jimin replied before telling you that they would be there. You nodded your head slowly, glancing at the stoic Hobi before lowering your gaze and going back to the studio. It was no secret to the other staff, and to the members as well, that treated you differently. He didn’t even attempt to conceal it, no. He made it obvious.

He would literally stop laughing when you entered the room.

He would stop talking to his members when he caught sight of you.

Hell, you thought that if could stop breathing just to not share the air you breathe, he would.

Which was ironic to you considering that you were here for him.

And which was a shame, really. You did love his smile.

“Hyung?” Jimin called him for the third time since you left.

“Yes, Jimin. Your take is perfect.”

The following week was the group’s video shooting for their music video. It had been a hectic week for everyone, including you. You were tired, yet seeing the art made by them come to life was everything. You felt like you were part of a masterpiece, despite you working from behind the scenes. Everything was going well, except for the current part of the MV.

If looks could kill, you’d be buried six feet underground now. Hobi was getting distracted with the way you were laughing with another staff. A male staff. How dare you laughed with another man, he thought. You should be serious. You were working. What was more important to you than your job, he thought. He was so occupied at throwing daggers with his eyes- daggers that you didn’t notice, that he missed his cue for the fifth time. The director yelled cut, gesturing for them to go back to their original position.

Taehyung sighed before whining, “Hyung, what is the problem?”

He didn’t say a thing for a moment that younger man thought he wouldn’t reply. Taehyung was about to go back to his original position when he finally said something.

“I need a coffee. An iced coffee,” Hobi suddenly declared, his eyes still trained at you.

“Do you want my coffee, hyung? I barely took a sip from it!” Jungkook quipped up, on his way to grab his iced coffee when Hobi shook his head.

“No, I want a fresh iced coffee,” he replied in a fake sadness that Namjoon definitely didn’t buy. Suga rolled his eyes. The two of them saw Hobi’s eyes trained on you. They knew what he was doing. They weren’t born yesterday. “In fact, Y/N, why don’t you buy me coffee?” He called out to you, deliberately increasing his voice to get yours and the whole staff’s attention.

You blinked owlishly once you realized that he called for you for the first time in months. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for you to move. Hoseok sauntered to you, his smile seemed permanent on his face yet his eyes looked cold as he glanced at the man you were talking.

“You know that coffee shop where we bought our coffee last week?” He asked quietly, his tone pleasant. You couldn’t help but nod- so unaccustomed to his proximity. “Can you please buy me an iced vanilla latte?”

You cleared your throat, “S-sure,” you said before turning to look behind him, specifically to the six other members who were looking at the two of you with varying reactions: Jimin seemed like he was generally having a good time, V looked like he was still confused, JK was pouting that his hyung didn’t like his coffee, while RM looked like he was done with everything, Jin was whispering at Suga, and lastly, Suga especially looked sleepy. “Does anyone else want coffee?”

Suga immediately raised his hand, and at the same time, J-hope who never took his eyes off of you lost his smile. “Nobody else wants coffee, right? She’s just going to buy for me,” he announced, turning to look at them with smile on his face, pointedly ignoring Suga’s raised hand.

“Go along now. I’m craving for something sweet,” he murmured with a smirk before turning to walk back to his position.

“But it’s a one-hour drive,” you realized to yourself, already calculating that it would take you more than two hours to travel back and forth, and waiting for the order. You just prayed that there weren’t a lot of people at this hour.

“I guess you have to run along now, Y/N,” Hobi said cheerily, raising his fist as if to gesture ‘fighting’ to you.

You were running as fast as you could without spilling the coffee you were holding. It was more than two hours, and you were stressing. Your co-worker a few minutes ago messaged you that they were almost done with the shoot. You feared that you were already too late. To your defense, he did send you to buy him a coffee knowing full well that it was a full hour away without the traffic. Your temper was shooting up. You were not the most patient person in the world to begin with. He was not like said this in the beginning. In fact, he was normal with you. He smiled, he laughed, he said thank you every time you did something for him- and then one day he just stopped. You thought you had offended him somehow. It was a good thing that you were only a temporary here. In all honesty, all you just wanted was to repay him for the kindness he showed you when you were at your lowest, when you thought that life and everything good in it left you.

So what happened to him?

Where did it all go wrong?

You entered the studio, seeing only few of the staff remained to pack up. The rest were security patrolling the building before calling it a day. They told you that the members left, but that J-hope might still be in the building. With a sigh that you prayed could provide you the patience you didn’t possess, you went up to his room. But when you arrived, he wasn’t there, and only his assistant was left. And that was how you knew your prayers weren’t answered. You offered her a tired smile before turning around.

“Oh, you’re here! He’s been waiting for you,” his assistant said in relief, instructing you to go to the parking lot.

Which you complied.

You hated how he had you running like a dog. You were starting to think if he was really that man who showed you kindness when you needed it the most a few years ago. Did you play that scene too many times that you started to place more meaning to it? Did you hold on to that memory for far too long that you had started to romanticize that moment?

Still, nevertheless, he did save you that day.

You only wished to pay his kindness back.

Finally, you saw him leaning against his car, his attention focused on his fancy cellphone. He looked serious, his brows pinched together. J-hope was now barefaced, and he was now only wearing a white button down shirt and pants which somehow made him more attractive and manly. Regardless, your patience was running thin and no amount of his attractiveness could alleviate what you were feeling.

You meant, who would order an iced coffee knowing full well that by the time it arrived, all the ice would have long melted by then?! He knew it was a two-hour travel, and yet he still insisted. Your steps were quick, and quite frankly sounding provoked that he looked up before you could even call his attention. You handed him the iced coffee carelessly, the content slushing around and not even the lid could saved him from the escaped droplets. He looked down at his drenched hand, not knowing why it didn’t irritate him. He shook his head with amusement in his eyes before turning his attention to you.

“How’s the travel? I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle,” he lamented in a fake sympathy. He didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting you, why he wanted all your attention on him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason why, and he was too naive to realize it himself.

You knew he was testing you, waiting for you to take the bait. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, no. You smiled at him, about to answer him when he lifted his hand that was now dripping from a little coffee and licked it, savoring in the rich taste of the coffee. All while looking at you.

It was too…sexy(?!) for you that you choke on nothing. You felt your cheeks heated up from that that you forgot what you were going to say for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“Would you drive me home?”

See, why did you say yes? You were just too weak when he was paying attention to you, or when he said please. Or when he looked at you with his soulful eyes that you thought held a little too much emotions, both sadness and euphoria.

Why then did he only let people see his happiness, but never his desolation? Never his regret? Never his weariness?

You watched him warily as you maneuvered out of the basement parking lot. He was sitting beside you, leaning his head on the head rest. He had his eyes shut closed that you could observed him freely. He looked tired, evidenced by his slumbering form.

You thought that it must have been so exhausting to project a happy, lively image every single day.

And so, you told yourself you’d give him the time to sleep by driving as peacefully as you could- which was not easy because you weren’t a good driver in the first place. You thought that it was a miracle you were able to pass your driving test when the examiner looked like he was holding on for dear life. But you knew the road signages, knew the laws, knew the do’s and dont’s, and so by miracle, you were able to pass your exam.

Driving on the main road was no easy feat. You were intimidated by the fast cars, and because of that, you were driving even slower than usual that the less than one-hour drive to his house turned to an almost two-hour drive. The man sleeping beside you was not even aware of what was happening, lost in his own dreams. The movement of the car moved his head to the side, facing you. He was even more angelic when he wasn’t busy glaring at you. He was even more ethereal when he wasn’t giving you meaningless tasks. In the silence of the car, absent of the noise that his world brought, he shone more.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were with him now, that you were breathing the same air he was breathing, that you could see him the whole day when he was just a mere memory of your darkest day- the day you buried your parents.

You were numb, so numb that you could barely feel your tears falling freely from your eyes. Your black, funeral dress was in contrast with the gentle picture that the sunset was quietly painting. You were staring at the ocean, the forgiving way the waves kissed the sand didn’t bring you peace. You thought that nothing could bring you peace anymore, that from this day forward, all you would feel was the cold loneliness from losing the only family you had. You thought that you would ran out of tears now that a week passed since you lost your adoptive parents from a horrendous accident. But the tears never stopped. And your heart never ceased to break.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the sand, you didn’t know how many tears fell, or how you were the picture perfect of melancholy. But Jung Hoseok knew, that day he knew.

Your hair had long fell from its confines, now freely flowing with the wind when you turned to look behind you. There, you saw him. He was sitting on the sand just like you. He was resting his arms on his knees. The young man was looking at the sea. He looked so serene, yet his eyes were troubled.

“I thought you’d never stop crying,” he voiced out. He had been sitting there almost as long as you. He came to clear his thoughts, only to find a young woman crying on her own. It was a difficult time for him. He thought that his career was not going anywhere, that he was wasting his time, that no matter how hard he worked, their group wouldn’t make it. He felt like his dream was a like a punch to the moon- impossible. He was torn between giving up and trying, yet this time as a soloist. To add salt to the wound, he watched as everyone received fan letters but him. Jung Hoseok had problems of his own.

So why then did he choose to stay?

He didn’t know why, but he never had the heart to leave you alone. Something was telling him that he was supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t leave you alone.

That you needed him.

You sniffed at the young man with a kind face behind you. He thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, regardless of the endless pit of sadness you were drowning in. He didn’t smile at you. You didn’t need a smile right now. He wordlessly stood up, walked near you, and placed in your hand a white handkerchief. “Cry more if you want. I’ll wait until you’re done,” he stated. And you did. You cried so hard, you cried so much until no tears fell anymore. All the while, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the crashing waves. He was humming a song you weren’t familiar with, but you found it soothing. You found him calming.

“You must think I’m a lunatic,” you whispered, his handkerchief drenched with your tears.

He shook his head, “It’s not crazy to cry. It’s how you express the love that has nowhere else to go,” he said tonelessly, as if it was just the truth of life. And it was. “What’s crazy is that people stop themselves from feeling when we aren’t made to not feel. If you’re sad, then cry. If you’re happy, then laugh. It’s not crazy to cry. It’s human to cry.”

He finally looked down at you. He didn’t know why he cared so much when he had burdens of his own. But he wanted you to know, “You’re not alone. I don’t think you were put in this world to be alone.”

No one, not even your closest family friends knew what to say to the pitiful young orphan that was you. Their words seemed empty to you. Their hugs seemed meaningless to you. But this young man that you didn’t even know stood by you as you cried. This man was able to comfort you more than anyone could. This man told you that you weren’t alone. And you held on to that. That day was your saving grace.

It was almost a year ago, yet you didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. His handkerchief was still with you, a remembrance of the day you felt like the world turned its back on you. You were walking to your university, enjoying the calm breeze of the morning when you heard a song from the store you were passing.

That same melody.

That same unfamiliar song he was humming.

Without any thought, you entered the store and saw that the owner was watching a performance by an unknown group. And there he was.

That day, you learned his name.

That same day, you wrote his first fan letter.

J-hope opened his eyes. For the first time in months, he felt rested. It was dark outside, he noted. He was still in the car. He turned to look at you, and there you were smiling so gently at him.

“Slept well, sleepy head?”

The car was parked in front of his house for almost an hour. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, and so you stayed with him. He deserved the rest after all the hard work he was putting to their craft. Without any makeup on, he looked just like the young man you met on that day. He looked younger without the stress that was piling up on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. “And why didn’t you park the car inside the house?”

“Well, I can definitely park your car. But I can’t assure you that I won’t scratch your car,” you confessed. You sucked at parking, as pitiful as that sounded. He blinked at you before laughing- a real one this time. He always laughed but it wasn’t always out of happiness that you hated hearing his fake laughters, loathed seeing his fake smiles.

“Cute,” he whispered. He wasn’t able to stop himself.

“What?”

“I said you looked like a shoe,” he scoffed before getting out of his car. He rounded the car, and opened the door for you.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” You pointed out, looking at him indignantly. You looked like a shoe? What did that even mean?!

J-hope smirked, before leaning down and pressing the seatbelt to release you. His face was so near you that you could clearly see his eyes. You loved the color of his eyes, the quintessential blend of brown. You loved his face. You loved how you thought he had the perfect bone structure, how straight he nose was, the perfect size for his face. You loved how he was the perfect embodiment of everything good in this world.

Wait, what? Loved? You meant, you liked his eyes and his face!

He was so near that you could feel his heat. He was not satisfied that he even leaned closer, his arm resting beside your hips while the other was propped beside your head. He was so near that you could smell his manly scent. He looked at your eyes, before whispering, “Get out.”

See, he didn’t even thank you that day.

The end of all the shootings was marked by a celebration party. All the staff, together with the members, were having fun dancing, eating, and drinking in a hotel solely rented by the company. You were exhausted beyond measure, and not just because of work. Specifically, it was because of J-hope that had you running all around the town as if you were his own personal assistant. Not only that but his mood swings drained you. Who knew this person was so moody, you thought.

“You’re a fashion design graduate?” Your male co-staff asked you in disbelief. You chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. “Then why are you working as a staff here?”

You explained to him that you were waiting for the result of your application to work for a brand you believed and supported abroad. You did interviews virtually and now you were eagerly waiting for the response. You couldn’t wait to finally live your dream, the one you had the strength to reach because you promised yourself that day to never give up.

You turned to look beside you and you almost jumped when you saw Yoongi silently drinking his choice of alcohol. How could he move so silently? And how long had he been sitting there?

“Do you want anything else, Yoongi? I’ll get it for you,” you offered politely to one of the members, smiling at him when he shifted his eyes to you.

“So you’re leaving?” He asked instead of answering your inquiries. It was out of nowhere that it took you a moment to realize he heard your plans.

“Oh, u-uhm. Yes, that’s my life plan”

“Hmm,” he thought of the headache that was about to come, seeing as from across the room, Hoseok was already throwing daggers at him with his eyes. “What did Hoseok say about that?”

You blinked owlishly in confusion, wondering why he brought up what he thought of your decision. “I didn’t tell him. But the company knows I’m only temporary here,” you trailed off your explanation, seeing the stoic Suga looked stressed. “No worries, though! I’ll make sure to finish all my commitments before I leave,” you hurriedly assured him, mistaking his silence for his apprehension on work. After all, he was known for being a workaholic.

Suga was certain it was not smart to hide this from Hoseok.

Another hour passed and you weren’t able to keep track of your alcohol intake. Everyone was loose, and the staff you grew closed to kept on drinking more and more. It was bad, you drank more than you should evidenced by your slurred words and your barely focused eyes.

“Noona, you’re drunk,” he noted as Jungkook kneeled in front of you, checking your current state with his worried, doe eyes. In your eyes, there were two Jungkook- two muscular Jungkook that looked at you with concern. “Come on. I’ll help you,” he said worriedly, placing your arm around his neck as he guided you to stand up. He, with Namjoon, had been helping the drunk staff get to their rooms, seeing as they were one of the few sober people here. He was about to lift you up when Hoseok who had been going back and forth about helping you showed up. He told himself he didn’t care, that you were merely a nuisance to him and that your presence disturbed his composure. On the other hand, something about another man touching you just didn’t seem right to him.

He guessed the possessive side of him won that night.

“Jungkookie,” he called the youngest member, clapping his muscular shoulder once. “I’ll take care of her. You go help Namjoon.”

Jungkook faltered once, looking at his hyung with hesitancy in his eyes. Didn’t he hate you? Wasn’t it just last week that Hobi saw you laughing at V’s joke? And that he said that if you had time to joke around and laugh with other people, then you’d have time to take his car for maintenance. That took you two hours. Plus the drive back to the company. Plus he made you drive him to his home.

And then he made you cook him dinner.

“Are you sure, hyung?” It didn’t escape Hobi’s eyes that the maknae still did not let you go. “I can bring her up real quick and then help Namjoon hyung-“

“Jungkook. Go help Namjoon,” Suga ordered quietly, his stance relaxed that he didn’t have any choice but to place you gently back on the sofa. See, how could he slither up to anywhere without making a sound? He was like a cat, Jungkook swore in amazement.

“You know what you’re doing, right, Hoseok?” Suga clarified with Hobi, his voice bored as if he didn’t care either way. But he did. The whole members were at lost with how Hobi was treating you. It was unlike him. He was always the first to smile at anyone, always the first to offer a helping hand, the first to make anyone feel welcome.

So what made you an outlier?

“Because if you don’t, I suggest you start thinking of the reason why you’re like this. And stop playing with her.”

J-hope carried you in his arms, your dizzy head leaning on his chest. This close and you could inhale his musky, manly scent. He did smell good despite the smell of alcohol lingering on his shirt. His body was warm- the kind that was pleasant and felt like home.

Carefully, he laid you on the bed, supporting your head until it hit the pillow. With softness you didn’t know he possessed for you, he placed a blanket on your body after he made sure you drank enough water.

He knew he should leave, he knew he did the decent thing. Why then did he not want to leave you when you were this vulnerable? Why then did he want to stay?

Why then did he falter when all he wanted to do was brush the hair off of your face?

And why was he fighting against himself?

His hand hovered just above your skin, gently tracing the outline of your cheeks, of your nose, of the way your lips protruded.

The way your eyelashes softly fluttered against your cheeks was endearing. The way your brows furrowed in your sleep unknowingly made him smile. You were so ethereal in his eyes, that he made up his mind. With extreme gentleness, he brushed you hair off of your face. This close and he could see the marks on your skin, proving further how you were made so uniquely, how marvelously you were created. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, no longer wondering how soft your skin was because this time, he knew. Perhaps, he was not in control as he initially thought because he found himself touching your lips with his thumb. And at that time, he could have swore he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, to know what you tasted.

He looked so lost, his eyes trained on your lips that he didn’t notice you looking at him. And when he met your eyes, you didn’t say anything. You merely waited, waited so sweetly, anticipating what his decision would be. Yet, for the life of you, you wished you wouldn’t be alone.

J-hope would have stepped back if not for your hand holding on to his. “I don’t want to be alone,” you confessed, seeing the same loneliness that haunted you each night in his eyes. “Can’t you stay?” You whispered.

You didn’t have to ask twice.

He was only meant to stay until you fell back asleep. He only meant to sit beside you, not lie down on the bed facing your slumbering form. He only meant to be here temporarily. He only meant to keep his distance- so why then did you have your hand buried in his chest? Why then did he hold it close to him? Because now, no one could tear him away from you. Now, he was looking at you with as if the truth itself was glaring at him, willing him to finally see what he was desperately misunderstanding.

He sighed with the realization that his hatred for you was a misunderstood emotion, something that he didn’t know he could experienced in this life. The line between love and hate was definitely thin. He didn’t know when he crossed it, he just knew he couldn’t go back.

“Why are you still so good to me?” He asked despite knowing you wouldn’t answer. How could you take all the shit he had been throwing at you? How could you continuously asked him everyday if he was okay, if he needed anything? How could you still smile at him when he had been anything but good to you?

He thought you wouldn’t answer, but you did.

And in your haze, you whispered, “Because you saved me.”

The six members were all gathered in their communal room. They were all looking at each other, waiting for anyone to start. It was apparent to them that J-hope didn’t come home last night. In fact, Jungkook happened to pass by the hallway at six in the morning, looking for food because he was starving when the door to your hotel room opened. And there he came face to face with the disheveled, clothes-wrinkled, Hoseok.

“Do you think…he killed her?” He voiced out his concern, eyes wide as he looked at his hyungs.

Jimin chuckled at the youngest member’s innocence. He was the first one to notice how different his hyung was when it came to you. He was just glad that finally after tirelessly looking at the two of you interacted, his hyung finally made a move.

“He likes her,” RM finally spoke up, his eyes trained on the book he was reading.

“Really?” Taehyung asked in disbelief. How could he not see it?

“Tae, you’re so dense,” Jin bellowed, throwing V the pillow he was holding. “Don’t you have eyes?”

“Shit, he’s here!” Jimin alerted them when he saw his hyung opening the door. “Quick act natural!”

The freshly showered main dancer entered the room. He looked like he had rested well. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. It was apparent to him that Jungkook blabbered what he saw this morning. With a sigh, he looked at the culprit who had his head buried on a book.

“Jungkook, how’s that book?”

“It’s very educational, hyung!”

“Interesting,” he said in a deadpanned voice before walking to him, grabbing the book, and flipping it upside down. “Very interesting. I didn’t know you could read that way.”

He turned to look at Suga who had his eyes closed, his head bent in an unnatural manner that he was certain it was not comfortable.

“Suga hyung, stop pretending to sleep. There is no way anyone can sleep in that position.”

Yoongi cleared his throat before sitting up straight as if he wasn’t called on his lie. “How was your night?”

“It was…good,” he replied with a genuine smile on his face that Suga couldn’t help but mirror it on his own. Hoseok deserved to be happy, that was what they all thought.

He hadn’t slept that well in a long time, but he noticed that whenever he was with you he felt like he could rest. Like he could close his eyes and it would be okay because you were there. Like he could shed the happy persona he was wearing and just be himself. Like he could feel emotions other than happiness he was showing to the world.

The problem now was that he spent all his time antagonizing you that he was sure you wouldn’t give him the time of the day. To which, Taehyung articulated that maybe, he should try being kind to you.

So yes, he did try doing that. But now, you looked at him suspiciously. Just the other day, he passed you a bottle of water because he thought you looked a little parched. You passed it back to him with the lid opened, much to his shocked. Did you think he was asking you to open it for him?!

The next time, he opened the bottle himself and passed it to you, this time you thought he wanted a colder one so you went to fetch him that. His jaw literally dropped when you passed him the bottle. He even bought you flowers, certain that you would loved it. In fact, you loved it so much you put it in a vase only for J-hope to find it displayed in his office. Jin laughed himself to the floor when he saw it.

You were preoccupied with the instruction being disseminated, your eyes focused on the schedule given that you didn’t notice your shoelace was untied. Without much thought, Jung Hoseok leaned down on his knee, his mind focused on the task. You almost didn’t notice that the noise suddenly stopped, and that all eyes were on you. Slowly, you looked down to find his head bent down as he tied your shoelace. His brows were furrowed, engrossed in his task. He looked up suddenly, meeting your eyes. You felt your cheeks heating up from his gesture. He smirked and he thought that you would finally get it.

You didn’t. To which RM advised that he made it obvious this time, to make you actually noticed him, to leave you no choice but to notice him.

The following week was the group’s schedule to film somewhere remote for their segment. It was a three-day trip. You looked around the basement parking, wondering where your co-staff were. Weren’t you all supposed to drive there together? You were about to call them on your phone when you saw J-hope leaning against his car, his eyes trained on you.

“About time you show up. Let’s go,” he sighed. You guessed you were going to have to drive him again. And here you thought that you’d get to catch up on your sleep. You opened the door when Hoseok slammed it shut again, his manly hand beside your head as it rested on the door. Here he was again, standing so near you that you had no choice but to step back. But this time, you couldn’t. You were between him and the car.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…going to drive?” You answered unsurely, breath hitching as he leaned in even further. If you thought he was handsome when he was smiling, the serious Hoseok did things to your heart.

“I’m driving. That’s why I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but why? Don’t I always drive you?”

Why was it hard flirting with you, he thought.

You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the stick gear. He had coffee prepared for you in his car, even a bottle of water for the travel. He was being so uncharacteristically kind and considerate to you that you were becoming suspicious now.

“Your hair looks so beautiful,” he complimented all of a sudden that you almost sputtered out the water you had been drinking. What did he mean? You didn’t even wash your hair today. Was he insulting you? Was he complimenting you? At this point, did anyone know what was going on?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. You seem different now. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

He looked at you with confusion in his face, holding your eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Just because I said your hair is beautiful?”

When you only blinked at him, lost for words when he looked puzzled himself before a shadow of understanding passed through his expressive face. “You don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What night?”

And there it was. He thought that he already made progress with you. And it turned out that you remember none of it.

The members watched as you and J-hope arrived with anticipation in their faces, only for Hoseok to shake his head. He spent the whole three days literally glued to your side. He brought you food, he opened water bottles for you, he sat beside you wherever you were, even going as far as glaring at any man who had the audacity to sit beside you. Most of all, he made you laughed. He listened to whatever you had to say with laser focus, as if you were the most interesting person in the world. And one night, when you all had too much to drink, he sat beside you and held your hand in his in the darkness of the night.

You could admit that as much as you didn’t want to, being this close to him was affecting you. Which was bad. Because you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t fall for him, that you shouldn’t get attached because this would end badly for you. You were leaving. And you were just here to make his life a little bit easier as a repayment to what he unknowingly did for you. And so, you started steering clear of his path for his sake, but also for the sake of your heart. Whenever you saw him, you’d suddenly have an errand to do. Whenever he was about to go to you, you’d suddenly join a group of people so he wouldn’t come. You even went as far as jumping at the last car, which happened to be Suga’s, just so you wouldn’t be with Hoseok. Suga looked at you weirdly before looking at the window, and then sighing. You were only glad that he drove without a word.

“Don’t you like him?” He asked in a bored tone after driving for half an hour. “And don’t lie to me.”

You blushed as you looked anywhere but him. Truth, you found out, was harder to deny once it was verbalized, once it was said. You could hardly deny the truth when you kept it in yourself, what would happen to you then if you say it?

“Can I trust you?” You asked in a small voice. You weren’t close to him, but you knew he was quiet, that he was like a Cheshire cat, merely sitting there quietly and observing, always observing. From the few interactions you had with him, you knew he only had his members’ best interest in heart. He was asking not because he was curious, no. He was asking because he cared for Hoseok.

“You can,” he replied in that deep voice of his. “Or you can’t. It’s up to you.”

You smiled at his answer, this was really who Suga was. And so, you decided to tell the truth.

“I do… but this is not going anywhere. What I feel for him is irrelevant,” you began, your lips twitching as you played with your fingers nervously. “He is a good man.”

Yoongi nodded as he silently drove, lost in his own thoughts. His mind must have been interesting, it must have been too complexed that you wondered how he would act when he fell. You didn’t know if you admire or pity the woman who would have the bravery to fall for him.

“That’s not for you to decide, Y/N. At least tell him.”

You wouldn’t.

You walked quietly after you made sure that he was not around. It had been a week of successfully avoiding Hoseok and you could see that he was becoming displeased with your actions. It was apparent to him that you were avoiding him, much to his vexation. But this ended now.

You were on your way to a meeting, in your hand was your planner. This was your last month, your contract was almost through. Your thoughts were immersed with things you needed to do that you didn’t notice that it was peculiar you were the first one in the small conference room. You waited for the other attendees of the meeting, lost in your own world as you wrote on your planner. The door opened and closed, and you lifted your head with a smile on your face ready to greet whoever that was when you saw him. He entered the room with a blank face, never turning his back on you as he pressed the lock. He walked around the table and sat on it, perching his lap on the edge as he faced you. His eyes looked tired. It took him a moment before he broke the silence.

“You’re avoiding me,” he stated as though he didn’t need your answer.

“I’m not-“ you started denying when he tilted his head to the side, his expression even going more serious. You recognized this face, the expression he used when he was coaching on the dance routines. You looked at your lap, anywhere just to avoid his intense gaze. Yet, you could not escape him. You were too hyperaware of his presence, of his larger than life presence that made you want to say yes to whatever he wanted. His thigh was almost touching your hand that was on the table.

“Why are you avoiding me, angel?” He asked gently, terrified that you’d up and leave like the last few days. You couldn’t even deny when he already saw right through your bullshit. You were afraid to look into his eyes because then he would see, he would know what you felt. When you still didn’t lift your eyes to him, he held your hand, bringing it to his lap. To be honest, he was scared. He hated the feeling of not seeing you, of not talking to you, of not having you near him. “Tell me, hmm? Tell me and I’ll fix whatever it is.”

Your lips quivered. It had been too log since anyone told you they’d fix it for you, that they’d take care of it for you. You had been alone for far too long that hearing that hurt you. What you felt for him terrified you. For so long you looked at him as though he was your savior, and now you were looking at him like he could be something more when you knew you were setting yourself for another heartache- one that you wouldn’t survive. Hoseok lifted your hand to his lips, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me.”

“I-I think,” you began before trailing off. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes trained on his chest. You still couldn’t look at him, still could not f the life of you look at him as you told him the truth.

“You think what, angel?” He repeated gently, urging you to continue.

“I think…I’m falling in love with you,” you finally said as you shut your eyes closed, waiting for his disgust.

Yet it never came.

He was silent, so silent that it terrified you. You were pulling your hand away from his when he tightened his hold on you. It left you no choice but to look up at him…only to find him with a genuine smile on his face.

“Good,” he whispered, his face losing the tense look it had moments ago. Now, J-hope was happy, utterly happy. And it showed. “Because I already fell.”

He tilted your chin further, and slowly, so slowly he leaned in. His jaw was set hard with concentration, his eyes trained on you. And then you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, a kind of kiss reserved for first kisses, the one where one wanted to savor the moment. He kissed you once, twice- and then he leaned back, opened his eyes and looked at you as if asking you if that was okay. And when you nodded, J-hope decided he wanted more. The kiss began to get more heated. Suddenly, he lifted you from your seat and placed you on top of the table. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the growing hardness of his member. You have been kissed before, but certainly not like this. Certainly not by someone as grand as him. Certainly not the kind of kiss where time felt like it stood still. You could feel his tongue inside you, keen on discovering every inch of you. It was too much, it was too many emotions that you didn’t know how to handle them. You felt his other hand possessively around the back of your neck. You thought it was forever before he stopped kissing you. He leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard as he leveled you with his intense gaze.

“You’re mine now, right, angel?” He asked as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.

Were you his?

Could you be his?

It was as if you were awaken, as if the haze that surrounded you was now gone and in its place was the hard truth that you weren’t supposed to be with him because you were leaving.

You shook your head, your hands pushing on his chest. “No. I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears brimming on your eyes “We can’t.”

In his weakened state and shocked, you were able to push him away. You ran to the door without looking back, and left him.

What happened, he thought in confusion. He was about to follow you when he noticed that you left your planner in your haste to escape. He was about to pick up the open planner when something piqued his curiosity.

Your handwriting seemed familiar to him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to remember why this seemed like a piece of a puzzle to him. He racked his brain, trying to remember something… And then he got it. He remembered this handwriting, the same handwriting that he had framed in his office- his first fan letter. He looked at it for hours back when he wanted to give up, and until now he looked at it with gratitude that someone believed in him when he wanted to give up.

It was you. He finally found you.

If this wasn’t fate, then he didn’t know what it was.

It almost buried the hurt he was feeling when you pushed him away. Almost. He was almost okay. But then he saw you marked the date of your last day in the company- and on the next page was the list of things you needed to accomplish because you leave the country. You were leaving the country. You were fucking leaving him.

You couldn’t leave, no. Not when he finally found you. Not when he only felt this way with you. Not when this was fate itself. Not when he was irrevocable so in love with you, not when he couldn’t even begin to imagine breathing without you. No. You cannot leave him. His mind was going overdrive, his heart beating too loud with the thought of losing you.

He needed to do something.

He needed to do it now,

With renewed strength, he marched out the door. His footsteps was hard and fast, looking for any trace of you that he almost ran straight to Namjoon. The leader took a look of his hyung’s state before carefully asking if he got everything under control. To which he replied that he’d only be stable and okay once he was sure that you were never going to leave him.

“Remember to do everything smartly, hyung,” RM advised him as a leader should. But as a friend, he told him where he last saw you. And as someone who also had to do underhanded methods just to get the girl, he stated, “Do what you must do, hyung. Lock her down to you, if you must.”

You almost jumped up when you heard hard, consecutive knocks on your door. It was alraedy closed to midnight, and you were weary. Your eyes were red from crying, something that you had not done in a long time. You were on the floor, surrounded by things you were packing since last week. You thought it was just your neighbor asking for something, and so you thought she would go away. You didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone today.

Yet, the knocks only became more frequent that left you no choice but to open the door- and there he was. Standing tall in front of you was the one you ran away from.

Jung Hoseok had his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed that you couldn’t read him.

“Can we talk?”

And as an answer, you stepped back and let him passed you inside your apartment. You had barely locked the door when you found yourself against the wall, and his lips hovered above yours for a moment, a moment for you to push him away. And when you didn’t, he pressed against your lips so tenderly and yet so demanding. All thoughts about why this was not a good idea vanished. All of a sudden, all that mattered was this feeling. All that mattered was Jung Hoseok.

His tongue caressed yours, while his hand lifted your leg to him, brushing his hardened member on your core. Pressing so gently as though he was on a mission to seduce you that you were left with no choice but to entangle your fingers in his hair, brushing the strands that fell on his forehead. His other hand journeyed inside your shirt. The heat of your skin, the softness of your skin furthered drove him to madness. His palm was hot as he kneaded you through your bra, pinching your nipple with a pressure you never knew.

“If you don’t want this,” he breathed as he peppered kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see. “Tell me now. Because if you don’t, I can’t stop myself anymore, angel..”

You felt his hand on your bare breast, your bra not standing a chance against the man in front of you. His thumb brushed over your nipple repeatedly, earning him a moan you could not stop.

“Do you want this, angel? Do you want me?” He whispered hotly, his eyes now trained on your eyes with seriousness and lust. And you could only nod.

You didn’t know how, but he managed to carry you to your bed. If he noticed your belongings in boxes, he didn’t say a thing. You would be moving, yes. But it wouldn’t be abroad where it was fucking far from him. No. You would be moving in with him.

He moved fast; your clothes were gone while he was still fully clothed. He spread your legs unceremoniously, hooking them over his shoulders, and then his sinful tongue thrust inside of you. Hoseok never gave you the chance to keep up with his ministrations, you had no choice but to moan and fall apart. And even when you did, by heavens he did not stop. His hold on your thighs were tight, fingers digging on your skin as your thighs shook with endless pleasure he was giving you.

You were begging at this point, but you didn’t know if it was for him to stop or to go on. The third time you came, he crawled to you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He showered you with praises about how good you were to him, how heavenly you tasted…how you were his. This time, he did not ask. He knew you were his.

You didn’t know when you passed out. Was it the second time he made you come with his cock? Was it because of the dizzying pleasure he managed to pull out of you? Was it because of his sweet, little promises about possessing you completely? Was it his promises that he’d take care of everything?

You didn’t know.

Hoseok watched you as you slept beside him, his body momentarily sated as he looked at his angel. He admired the marks on your neck, admired the bruises on your thighs. He smiled to himself as he brushed your hair away from your face. How could you think of leaving him when it was this good, he thought.

But never mind that.

You wouldn’t leave. His phone dinged from an email, and he smirked evilly as he read that the person he recommended for the job you had previously accepted was successful. The fashion company replaced you willingly with Hoseok’s promise that he would model one of their collections. You would be sad, though. But that was fine. He did this for you. He did this so the two of you would grow even closer. You shouldn’t worry, though. Hoseok thought of everything. A month from now, you would start your work with a fashion company. But this time, it as in Korea where he could see you, where he could keep you.

See, anyone was replaceable. But to him, you weren’t. You were the only one.

#jung hoseok fic #jung hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n #yandere jung hoseok #yandere j-hope #yandere hobi #bts fic #bts yandere #hobi x reader #hobi x you

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luvkyu · 9 months

Note

Hi! Can I request a poly Bangchan x male reader x Felix fic where they're all cuddled up together and reader is bigger then them and it ends up with Felix koala hooked on to readers back while reader and Chan dance together!

nights like this ( bang chan + lee felix )

chan x male!reader x felix

chan and felix spend a relaxing night with their boyfriend after a tiring day.

content : 0.7k words, fluff, reader is taller/larger than chanlix, bub pet names

( a/n ) thank you for the req :D i hope its what u wanted <3

chan sighed in content, his head laying comfortably in his boyfriend's lap. he'd been watching y/n play video games for a couple hours now. the familiar sounds of the controller's joysticks filled his ears while he relaxed in y/n's embrace.

chan smiled up at him, almost entranced. he loved watching the way y/n's eyes would focus and his brows would knit together in determination.

"are you staring at me?" y/n asked. despite the sudden question to his partner, his gaze refused to break from the tv in front of their shared bed.

"always assume i'm staring at you, yes."

y/n laughed.

"stop being cute. you'll distract me."

chan was about to protest until one of y/n's hands left his controller to gently stroke his hair. chan's eyes closed at the sensation. his boyfriend's fingers trailing through his hair never failed to bring a relaxed grin to his lips.

"when did felix say he's getting off work today?" y/n asked before he brought his hand back to his controller.

"mm, at seven i think. he should be home soon," chan answered.

"he's home now," felix's voice suddenly joined.

both the boys' heads whipped around to see their other boyfriend standing at the open bedroom door. felix threw his work bag aside and flopped down beside them on the bed.

"baby! we didn't even hear you come in," y/n chimed. felix let out a silent laugh before exchanging kisses with both of them.

"how was work, love?" chan questioned, laying his head back on y/n's lap. felix sighed and laid his own head on y/n's chest, all three now cuddling up together.

"tiring. customer service is tiring. i need a night to recharge with you guys.."

y/n looked down at felix with a small frown. he set his controller aside after exiting his game, done for the night.

"what do you wanna do tonight then, bub?"

"mm.. cuddle. just cuddle," felix replied.

"i think we can arrange that," chan joked. "are you done with games, y/n?"

y/n nodded while hanging one arm over felix's torso, the other going back to chan's hair.

"yeah, i'm done. the rest of the night is for my favorite boys."

the opposite two could feel their hearts swell at y/n's answer. it always seemed to them that y/n constantly knew the right thing to say to comfort his partners, even if it was only a few words. it drove the pair crazy in the best way.

a comfortable silence now drifted over the three, with the exception of their speaker playing softly nearby. y/n and felix began to drift off into a light sleep while chan enjoyed the music.

when a calm, classical song started playing, an idea came to chan. he swiftly left y/n's lap to get up and off the bed. his movement brought the other two back to their senses, their eyes shooting open.

"what is it, bub?" y/n asked.

"dance with me," chan said happily. y/n and felix exchanged smiles, obsessed with their boyfriend's cuteness.

as y/n started to get up from the bed, he felt a weight hold him back a bit. he turned his head to see that felix had latched himself onto his back as if he were a koala.

"lix? you gonna dance?" y/n asked the smaller. felix shook his head and adjusted his arms around y/n's neck.

"if i stay here, i'm technically still dancing with you," he replied. y/n and chan grinned at the cheerfulness in his voice. even after a hard day at work, felix still remained their happy boy.

y/n linked hands with chan while felix stayed put, the three soon swaying to the sound of the soft music. nights like this were unmatched in their eyes. losing track of time, only invested in each other, and all the worries of real life forgotten.

#stray kids #stray kids x male reader #bang chan #bang chan x male reader #lee felix #lee felix x male reader #chan x male reader #felix x male reader #kpop x male reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee felix x reader #skz x male reader #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fluff

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boozenboze · 1 year

Text

Tf 141 x Dancer!Male reader

@bunky101

Years had passed since M/n’s last recital.He could remeber how nervous he’d be before having to go on stage with his group.Despite the anxiety of performing in front of others he always nailed it,but after his coach left he decided to do something way out of his profession.

Danseur.....The perfect code name to represent what he used to enjoy.Why would he need a code name...well he needed one because of the new and more risky jobbed he was hired for.The h/c haired male had joined the military.You may be wondering why get a job that may cost your life?Well the answer is simple.There were and are many chances you could injure or be put 6ft under from doing ballet.You could’ve been told to break a leg, that has happened to most, some have even broken their necks because of them not landing properly.Knowing these things gave M/n an unnatural thrill.Knowing that he could get killed from something he loved doing gave him chills.Although he wouldn’t get that chill anymore......well....that was until he had to preform on the field.

It’s been a while since Danseur joined the military.His skills had been known to almost everyone and eyes were always on him.When he was on leave he would be doing his normal stretches in his pointe shoes, before doing a short routine that he remembered doing a while back.After that he’d go on with his day like any normal person.Though something had changed one of those days, a Task Force had heard about him and wanted him to join.He hadn’t known who they were but ultimately joined after doing a bit of digging, on who they were.

M/n had been part of Task Force 141 for a while now.He had been transferred to a new base and to make it feel a little bit more like home he had another studio made at the new base.Besides it was the least they could do, his skills were unseen by anyone else.

When you had first joined,Soap had his eyes on him from the beginning.He was always watching the male, attempting to catch any imperfection the male had.He found none.

Gaz was pretty happy knowing an ex ballet dancer was joining them.He has seen your agility and speed throughout training and on the field so he was impressed.He sometimes comes into the studio to see M/n doing a short version of a recital dance.He’d come in without announcing himself since he didn’t want to distract him.After a while of M/n being one of them he started to get obsessed with the sport and buried himself in tons of videos.

Besides Gaz being in the room, Ghost and Price would be watching from the door for the same reason as Gaz.When you danced you were in your own bubble, and nothing else was to surpass and take that focus away..This leads up to our current fiasco with Gaz and Soap.

“I don’t understand, how could ballet be a sport!”Soap argued with Gaz as the Brit answered

“Just look it up man, plus you can tell it’s a workout have you seen M/n’s calf’s.The mans ripped, if anything he has stronger legs.Soap hadn’t bought the males words as he slurped the smoothie that he had made beforehand.They were still going at it as they made their way to the studio.They noticed there were more people outside than usual, Ghost and Price being among them.A soft song was playing as they pushed their way through the crowd.

M/n had his eyes closed as he preformed an old group dance.As the music got a little more intense, his movements followed i pursuit.A beat drop made him do an ariel, and a low hum made him do a pirouette.Despite how intense and fast the song went, his movemnts never faltered and he remained graceful.As the music began to fade he went back to first position, before going to third position.He stayed like that for a moment before before lowering his arms, the music finally ended as well as the dance.

A whistle and claps were heard as M/n whipped his head around.He waved slightly, embarrassed at the fact he was being watched the whole time.Soap was just staring at the male in awe.He looked so elegant throughout the whole thing, and his muscles flexed under his leggings.The Scottish man was impressed but upset that he was wrong.All sports made you stronger in some way and it seems Ballet played its part with you.

Soap was wrong about Ballet not being a sport, he wouldn’t admit it either.That still doesn’t mean he’ll won’t watch you do your thing.Besides he already had a feelings for you in the beginning.

Side note-I accidentally deleted this :)

#male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #mw2 x male reader #gaz x male reader #ghost x male reader #cod x male reader #gay #captain price x male reader #soap x male reader

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artificial-transmutations · 11 months

Text

Getting into the song

"Oh! My! God!" Evan cried out in amazement over the whirring of fans. Him and his lifelong friend Joel were in Evans basement room, reviving the tradition of their yearly LAN party after a hiatus of several years.

Of course, there was no real need for physical presence anymore, now that internet connections were stable and cheap enough. Still, Evan was a bit of a traditionalist and had begged his best friend until he had finally caved. They had already played for one and a half day, and currently, both nerds were tired and taking a break, surfing the internet.

Joel, the way bigger one of them both, turned around with his hand in the bag of chips and looked at him quizzically.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Starblush is releasing a new album next month!" Evan said excitedly.

"Star...blush" Joel repeated. "That's some kind of band I suppose?"

Evan frowned. "It's not 'some kind of band'. It's *the* very best band on earth!"

Joel had quickly googled the name and rolled his eyes.

"Oh god, I think I remember. Is that this Japanese boyband you're so obsessed about? With that idiot front man?"

"Komori Yoshitora" came the answer at once. "And he is not an idiot, he is just the most wonderful man - on. Earth. He has such a good voice, and his lyrics touch your heart, and..."

"Ookay." Joel raised his arms, with some crumbs falling to the floor in the process. "I admit I overlooked something very important in my opinion. That you are obviously utterly and deeply in love with that guy. Seriously, do you think he writes those songs himself? I wouldn't even count on him singing himself. It's a fricking boyband. The target audience are 12 year old girls!"

Evan was slowly getting agitated. "It doesn't matter if he writes the songs himself. He sings them, yes, no playback, and he just gives the words so much... soul! Why would I care about the target audience? Also, I'm not gay, but that guy is so ridiculously good looking that I would give him a blowjob any day."

Evan turned up his speakers and went to YouTube. "Here, I'm gonna show you one of their tracks. Once you heard it, you are going to love it, I'm sure!"

With that, he started a music video featuring the charismatic Japanese lead singer along with the rest of his boyband, singing a Japanese pop song on stage.

Only a few seconds in, Joel interrupted the singing: "Do you even understand what he's singing? Do you speak Japanese? Because I don't."

"No, I don't *speak* Japanese." Evan replied. "You have to look up the translated lyrics of course!"

Joel shook his head. He did have to admit that the soft, sensual voice of the lead singer didn't sound too bad, although he couldn't understand the meaning of the words. As the track ended, he said: "It's okay, I guess. Still a boyband." After a short hesitation, he added: "Show me another track."

Evan grinned in triumph and started the next song. This one was a bit faster, and the lead singer moved around more on stage.

Joel found himself really digging the rhythm. At first, he only tapped his foot to the song, but quickly found himself moving his massive body to the electronic music, doing something similar to dancing.

Although Joel hated every kind of body movement, getting into the rhythm came surprisingly easy, as if he had heard the song a hundred times before, not right now for the first time. A gurgling noise came from his belly, as his body mass slowly vanished. Before long, he had to hold up his pants or they would fall down. Evan didn't notice, too glued were his eyed to the music video.

It didn't take another request from Joel to start up the next song after this one ended. Between the videos, however, Joel had to get rid of his glasses, because his vision was getting blurry with them on. They were too big anyway, as his face was getting smoother and smaller. Moving his slim body had become easy, natural even. As he moved to the beat of this new song, slowly all body hair, including his beard silently fell from his body, sinking to the ground like snow.

There came the bridge, then another chorus. As the chorus began, Joel started to sing along. He knew the lyrics by heart and closed his eyes while singing, putting all his soul into the words.

As Evan heard the singing, he turned around, only to freeze with his mouth open. There, in his mom's basement, singing and dancing was... not Joel anymore. No, that was Komori Yoshitora, himself! The last few details changed along the last notes of the song. Komori's hair became night black, and his facial features turned delicate and well groomed, with a slight smile on it.

There was a long moment of silence between the two before Komori spoke first in broken English: "So, did I hear that right? You would give me a blowjob any day?"

As Evan nodded, still speechless and still with his mouth open, Komori smiled again and removed his shirt. "Good. I love fans like you that aren't 12 year old girls."

This story was written as a request by a subscriber over at my riot page who chose to make it publicitly available! If you, too, want to request themes or ideas, consider joining the Transformation Titan tier yourself :)

#straight to gay #racial transformation #male transformation

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

Text

Birthday

Wednesday x Kitsune!Reader

A/N: I've been obsessed with this song and dance lately. Please do yourself a favor and watch either the MV or dance practice if you haven't.

Enid squeals excitedly as she and Wednesday make their way to the little stage set up in one of the Nevermore courtyards. There was going to be a talent showcase and it was all the wolf could talk about for a week. She starts to hammer on about the performances she knew about, including yours.

"The choir is doing a medley of classic rock stuff. There's some flag spinning thing, a juggling thing." Wednesday was hardly listening. At least until your name comes up. "Oh! And Y/N! They're doing a dance and oooohhhh it's so good!" Dark eyes glance over at Enid.

"You've seen their performance already?" The implication made Wednesday feel a little hurt, but she wasn't going to show it. She knew you were self conscious about learning choreography. As much as she wants to see your process, she respects you enough to leave you be.

"No... You know how they are with their process," Enid replies. "But I've seen the video of the original performer and oooohhhh man. It's so good." She wiggles her eyebrow at Wednesday. "Really sexy too."

Wednesday scoffs. "As long as it's entertaining enough."

Sexy wasn't a thought she ever had when thinking about you. You were considerate, kind, mischievous, and willing to kill for her. It was all she needed. Yes, you were attractive to her, but sexy? Too far from her mind to even consider.

Before finding seats, Wednesday and Enid make their way backstage to find you. As soon as they see you, Enid heads straight over for a hug. Wednesday freezes, on the other hand, at the sight of you. You were wearing a pair of black, baggy, destressed jeans. Your legs poke out each time you bend your knees or stretch your legs. In contrast, a tight, red tank top adorns your torso, nearly showing the definition of your muscles. Your arms are exposed and bare aside from your dominant forearm, still wrapped in its ropes and beads of your spirit. It was different from your usual style, but it wasn't bad to Wednesday. In fact, it was very attractive.

Very... Sexy?

This was a new feeling for Wednesday. Eyebrows furrow in confusion but she hides it as soon as your eyes are on her. Your smile lights up and you're at her side as soon as you could.

"I'm glad you could make it, dark soul." You take her hand and kiss it. "I know these things aren't your favorite." Her eyes soften only for you.

"Of course. What kind of partner am I if I don't support you as you do for me?"

You spend a few more moments together before the call for showtime is heard. With a smile and quick kiss, you head back to your back-up dancers. Enid joins Wednesday and they go to find seats.

-----+++++-----

The showcase was far too long for Wednesday. Your performance was the last one on the docket. The wait was torture for the goth and definitely not the good kind. While some acts were entertaining, like the knife juggler, others were atrocious, like the so-called comedian. By the time you arrive on stage, Wednesday was near ready to gouge her eyes out. You were a godsent.

You and four others walk onto the stage. You kneel at the stage center and the others, dressed in various navy blue outfits and veils, sit around you. As soon as you take a breath and sink into your stance, the music begins. You lean forward and sweep your arms out in front of you while your dancers breathe in time with the beats. When you're upright again, the dance begins in earnest.

Baby dance, dance, dance

Wrap me up in your devotion

You brought an arm up and around your head, starting there before moving down. The dancers follow your movements with their own bodies, as if your hands controlled them. Then suddenly, you press yourself on the floor and slide yourself over, rolling into your back only to twist around, lift a leg up and body roll against the floor. Your hand reaches out then to grab one of your dancers' as they pull you onto your back and you roll your body once more, using their help to lift your body into the air as you curve.

The crowd reacts wildly at the move, amazed at your body control. As your moves progress into the dance, people are starting to realize that you're also singing the song. Your breathing is getting heavy, but the sound of your voice is still clear. That said, it made your performance that much more seductive. Especially when the dancers crown around you and wrap their arms around your torso.

Enid is practically wiggling in her seat, excited at how well you were doing. Wednesday, on the other hand, was rigid. Her eyes couldn't leave you and the bats in her stomach were going ballistic. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was slightly more labored. On the outside, she seemed unfazed. On the inside, there was chaos.

Pull my hands, hands, hands

When I know you wanna hold them

I wanna be in so deep, baby

Floating like we're deep inside the ocean

The back-up dancers moved to the side stage to let you have your first true solo part. Your dance melds with the beats of the dance, alternating between pops and fluid movements. You then travel up the stage, steps sliding as if you were floating, caressing your own body as it rolls in time with the music. You spin and fall to your knees, before swinging your arms again to roll against the ground once more. When you're up again, your dancers return and circle you for the second chorus.

I've been blinded by you

Baby, you got full attention

So let us take it slow, yeah

I never say this but girl,

You deserve the best

You're alone again at the bridge, your dancers standing still in a wide circle around you. Your dance is more fierce here, your moves sharp and spins quick. In the single point during this moment where you do slow down, it's to roll your head back seductively, exposing your neck to Wednesday, making her lick her lips.

At the end, everyone dances in unison, leaving you to embellish how you want in the center. As the last of the music dies down there is some light tutting before you end the song, staring right as Wednesday as you breath heavily at the performance.

The audience erupts in applause, almost startling Wednesday. Enid shakes her roommate in excitement and gushes over your performance. When you bow and leave the stage, Wednesday is immediately up and heading backstage, leaving her wolf friend behind. As soon as she finds you, she grabs your arm and drags you away from your celebrating friends.

"Whoa! Hey, Wednesday? Wha- Where're we going?"

When Wednesday finds darkness and quiet, she whirls around and is on you like a panther. Her lips hungrily attach onto you as she pulls you towards her. It throws you off enough that you had to brace yourself against the wall behind your lover. A soft hum erupts from your throat and it spurs Wednesday further. She grips at your shirt, trapping herself between you and the wall. There's a need for you to be closer to her and it seems to be never enough.

Air calls for you, but when you part, you duck your head to latch onto the goth's neck. You hear the girl inhale deeply and it makes you smirk.

"Enjoy the show, did you?" She grabs at you and growls softly.

"If you have enough time to talk, you have time to attend to me more."

You let out a soft chuckle and continue your affection. Wednesday claws at your back before gripping it tightly when you suck at her pulse.

"What are you doing to me?" She breathes out. "You will be the death of me." You nip at her skin before trailing your tongue soothingly across it.

"What a death it'll be."

Wednesday doesn't care that she has dark bruises on her neck later. You don't care that your back is streaked with red. It was well worth it.

Taglist:

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @aroaceanxietylemon @tundra1029

#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday (netflix)

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lokisasylum · 6 months

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The article interviewed representative theorists of Korean dance Professor Kim Ji-won and dance critic Dr Lee Chan-ju about Korean dance and its genealogy.

Jimin's mention:

"Jimin (BTS), barefoot and dressed in white, slowly walks to the front of the stage with a soft white cloth draped over his shoulders and his gaze down. Then, for about 1 minute and 20 seconds, he displays the intense movement of throwing, pulling, and caressing the cloth wrapped around his shoulders and arms into the air. This is a performance performed by Jimin titled ‘I Need U’ at the 2019 Melon Music Awards. Although it is said to be a modern dance, Koreans can quickly tell that it is a reinterpretation of ‘Salpuri dance.’ In 2018, Jimin performed an original fan dance on the same stage and received a plaque of appreciation from the Kim Baekbong Fan Dance Preservation Society, saying he had ‘contributed to raising the status and aesthetic value of the fan dance globally.’ There was an uproar among overseas fans who heard Jimin's 'I Need You' for the first time. What on earth is that dance and what does the cloth mean? BTS' video containing this scene achieved hundreds of millions of views."

“BTS' performance is a motif or reinterpretation of traditional dance, but people who encounter Korean dance for the first time will soon want to know what the original dance is and the meaning of the cloth used as a prop.”

“If you look closely at the Salpuri dance, the cloth is not removed at all. In some ways, catching and putting it back , letting go and winding it again are inevitable. I shared affection with all my loved ones, but after losing that affection, there will be regret and obsession, and it seems there will be tearful conflicts. So, I complain to the cloth, and I wrap it, unwind it, and get tangled up again while trying to get myself together for having to live with the loss of the things I love.”

"After hearing this explanation and watching Jimin's performance again, each movement is interpreted in a new way. Professor Kim said that when she was learning Salpuri dance, her teacher said, “Have you never even loved? She laughs, saying that it was only after a long time that she realized the meaning of his words, 'Come back with more love'.”

#Jimin DATA #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #pjm #bts #jiminie #Jimin news #Jimin's dance

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s0fter-sin · 2 months

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so lately i’ve been obsessed with a 141 dancer au

gaz runs classes, has a youtube channel and quickly becomes one of the most sought after choreographers in the music video scene. soap is his dance partner for his classes, he helps run them and does demonstrations with him

ghost is also a choreographer and he’s gaz’s Arch Nemesis

he's famous for never performing his routines, never doing public appearances without his skull mask and being highly exclusive with who he allows to perform his choreo which earns him his name (since he’s a ghost creator). gaz however is a social media darling, his classes and videos regularly doing huge numbers

they both popped up around the same time and are neck and neck in terms of popularity and skill and they immediately rub each other the wrong way

gaz accuses ghost of not actually choreographing his routines himself bc no one has ever seen him dance and ghost thinks gaz is a clout chaser who's just in it for the fame instead of passion

he became a dancer as a way to channel his rage after years of being an underground fighter, the discipline and physicality helping him more than fights ever did. he hates the thought of someone just using it just to get famous when it literally saved his life

deep down they know their accusations are wrong and they have a grudging appreciation for the other's talent but they'd both rather die than admit it

price is a famous dancer turned director they both work with frequently and they always fight over him; trying to get their routines picked for his music videos. he's also the only one in the industry who's ever seen the ghost perform (before he got famous and before the Incident™)

he finally gets fed up with them constantly being at each other's throats and hires them both to work together and choreograph a joint routine. they're both famous in their own right but this video is for a huge artist so neither of them can refuse no matter how much they hate the other

gaz has a gymnastics background but also a ballet background which lends him to a more fluid style whereas ghost’s style is stronger, more masculine with sharper movements so they naturally end up butting heads

then there's soap who has a completely different style altogether, focusing on a more modern, breakdancer style which makes him see everything completely differently

but it also adds to his self-doubt bc he didn't have a formal dance education, he built his entire repertoire by himself. people see him as inferior to gaz who has that very formal, highly disciplined style. his insecurities about only ever being seen as gaz's demonstration partner and that he can only do gaz’s routines so all his skill is just an extension of him instead of being seen as a dancer in his own right forces him to adopt a rigid - destructive - perfectionism in himself and his body

soap meets ghost before the first rehearsal. he gets to the studio early to practice when sees this beautiful man dancing

he has no idea who he is but he moves so seamlessly, almost better than gaz, and he immediately falls a little in love. the man catches him watching in the mirror and he flusters, getting worse as the man just smirks at him and flawlessly completes the routine

soap tries to save face and asks him to teach him the routine he's doing

the man agrees, introducing himself as simon. the style of the routine is familiar to soap but he can't focus on it when simon's hands are on his waist, guiding him through the steps; his chest pressed up against his back. they work together beautifully, picking up each other's body language and dancing together easier and better than they've ever danced with anyone

then gaz arrives and the vibe in the studio immediately changes

simon's easy confidence becomes hostility, pulling up the skull gaiter he'd let hang around his neck as he practically pushes soap behind him to square up to gaz

soap’s shocked when gaz hits back with the same energy until he realises it's the same way he acts whenever he talks about ghost and his stomach drops

he steps out from behind ghost to side with gaz and the betrayal in simon's eyes hurts more than anything he's ever felt

from there it's romeo and juliet; camp gaz versus camp ghost as they fight over every step of the choreo and soap is the poor bastard stuck in the middle

soap tries to channel that “you’re my best friend’s rival, i have to hate you,” mindset but he can’t forget the way it felt to dance with simon

and how much he wants to do it again

#my friend mimi introduced me to gymnast gaz which made me think he grew up in competitive gymnastics and left it to be a dancer #whether his family was disappointed in that decision i havent figured out yet #the Incident™️ was roba getting simon directly from the underground and manipulating him into working at his strip club where price finds h #and pulls him out when roba tries to force him into sex work too #soap earned his name for being such a clean dancer and never making mistakes during performances #which just make his insecurities worse bc now he has to live up to his new reputation as well as fight of the gazs partner image hes gotten #farah and alex are definitely team gaz and i think nikolai would be his manager #then im thinking alejandro and rudy are team ghost with laswell as his manager #then bc soap is the odd man out hes used as tie breaks when they get into arguments about what move should go next in the routine #the pressure of picking correctly and the routine being essentially on his shoulders freaking him out just as much as having to choose #between his best friend who expects him to always side with him and ghost who always has good ideas #this isnt a negative haz au btw i think it would be a good way to explore his arrogance and stubborness #hes decided ghost is his enemy and nothing can pull him away from that #(except for what eventually does but im not sure what that is yet lmao)#i want soap at some point to completely overwork himself and his bad knee swells and gets irritated and finally gives out #and its ghost who forces him to take a break and convinces him that working his body to death wont help him be a better dancer #cue tender wound care and ghost backstory as he reassures soap that he is an amazing dancer #he offers soap a no stress space at his studio if he ever wants it & gaz overhears and thinks soap is betraying him and leaving so cue angs #we’re a team. ghost team #coming out of my cage and i’ve been doing just fine.txt #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #save post #john price #cod 141 #soapghost au

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talkfantasytome · 2 years

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Punk Rock Princess

Cassian is always playing with Nesta's iPod, but Nesta has no idea why.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,141 | Nessian Masterlist

Read on AO3

a/n: This is a throwback to different technological times! To the early/mid 2000s and the first few generations of iPods. For Day 5: Music of @nessianweek.

Nesta walked through the crowded hallway straight to the student center, head bobbing along to the music playing in my ear.

She loved her massive, over-ear headphones. They really did the trick of drowning the entire school out. All she could hear was the music cascading through her bones, and it took a great amount of control to keep herself from starting to rock out and dance in the middle of the corridor.

Do or die, you'll never make me Because the world will never take my heart Go and try, you'll never break me We want it all, we wanna play this part

She made a beeline for the student center, finding a table on the outskirts of the junior section quickly before the other students with an open period started filling up the tables. Gwyn and Emerie weren't free this period, and she had no interest in hanging out with anyone else.

The room was basically a massive square with tables organized into four sections. The sections created a big, open square in the middle of the room that students walked through when traveling to the different wings of the school. From the entrance to the student center, the senior section was first. To the right of the open square was the freshman section, at the top of it was the sophomore section - which was right in front of the cafeteria that was open almost the entire day from about 7:30 until the end of the last lunch period - and then to the left was the junior section.

Nesta picked a table in the far corner, so close to the stairwell to the library it was practically beneath it. The chairs around her were strewn about in a way that made most of them look like they belonged to none of the tables. High schoolers didn't care about pushing chairs in when the bell rang and it was time for class. And the other tables nearby remained empty as the student center cleared out, leaving only the sophomores, juniors, and seniors who had an open period.

The room seemed rather quiet once the bell rang again and classes had officially started. Far more preferable.

She pulled her iPod and computer out of her bag and set them both on the table. The movement caused her earphones to wiggle a bit, and she had to push the connector back into the jack fully.

That had been happening a lot lately, much to Nesta's chagrin. But there wasn't much she could do. Two years prior she'd saved up about a year's worth of tutoring money to buy her forty gigabyte iPod, and she had no interest getting back into tutoring. People could be so dumb and she had no patience for it.

Sure, she'd love to get a new iPod. They now have ones with video capability and go up to sixty whole gigabytes. She probably wouldn't use the video much, but the screens also are in color. And she's always watching that storage bar as she gets increasingly close to being told her iPod is full. But she also loved her current iPod. It's far sturdier than the new ones, and she'd spent so much time working to get one. How could she just throw it away?

Opening her laptop, Nesta pulled open her iTunes and started working on a new playlist. She'd just purchased My Chemical Romance's album 'The Black Parade' and was obsessed with 'Welcome to the Black Parade'. So, of course, she needed to create a playlist themed around that song.

She'd managed to plug her iPod in - it needed a quick charge, it ran out of battery so fast these days - and add that one song to the playlist before a chair was pulled up to her table and a large mass of a boy plopped down into it.

Cassian Laskaris sat there, grinning at her as she looked up from her screen. And damn him, he looked good. It was only the second period of the day, so his hair was still slightly damp from his shower after Monday morning football practice. He left it all down that morning, falling in dark waves to his shoulders, instead of the typical half-messy bun. Nesta had to fight back the impulse to run her fingers through those luscious locks. It would give him the wrong impression.

He mouthed some words at her, but with her headphones still on, she had no idea what he'd said. She pointed to her headphones and shrugged her shoulders to say as much, but Cassian's smile only grew.

Apparently, he took that as an invitation to lean over and pull the headphones off of her. Nesta would've fought against him, but she was frozen by the nearness and the woodsy scent of his body wash.

"I said, 'Good morning, sweetheart'," he repeated, flashing her that damn crooked smile that had her toes curling involuntarily. Gods she hated him.

"I've told you not to call me that."

He chuckled, "You're right. My sincerest apologies. What are you doing? Working on a playlist?"

Nesta straightened her back and looked down her nose at him. "As a matter of fact, yes. I am."

"Cool! Let me see!" He took her computer and slid it over to himself, turning it so he could look at the screen. He also pulled the iPod closer so that it wouldn't disconnect.

"Hey!"

Cassian was always doing this. He shared every open period with her and, without fail, always came to join Nesta…uninvited. And he was constantly stealing her iPod, looking through her playlists, commenting on her music. She wasn't sure why he bothered. He always had the newest model, the joys of being part of one of the richest families in Velaris.

Nesta couldn't help but wonder what that must be like. To always be able to get the newest model of everything. To never have to worry about your gadgets breaking cause you can just get a new one. She'd practically built a bed for her iPod to make sure the back wouldn't scratch too much, and that her iPod wouldn't fall off her nightside table as it charged while she slept.

He started clicking around her computer and Nesta moved to pull it back, but Cassian just slid it away from her further.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just looking. Finally have access to your full library."

Her lips thinned, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "I don't want you on my computer."

"Why? What do you have on here?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her as his lips spread into a stupid smirk. "Something dirty? What are you trying to hide?"

She rolled her eyes and stood, the chair scraping on the floor and letting out a shriek. "Nothing you'd understand. So fine, have fun. I'm going to the bathroom."

It took Nesta at least five minutes to get to the bathroom, use it, wash her hands, and look herself over. She was absolutely in love with the deep blue streaks she'd put into her golden brown hair the week before. They brought out the blue in her eyes, and were a lot of fun. She even matched her American Apparel solid-color zip-up to them that day, hoping it might bring more attention to them. Tomorrow she might have to pull out the deep blue, super tight skinny jeans she has hiding in her closet. Today, she chose her black ones.

Yet, even as she checked over her outfit and hair, every second her brain was focused on her computer and what Cassian might be looking at, what he might find. What if he went into her writing folder and found all that fan fiction she wrote but never posted. No one was supposed to see that. Luckily he couldn't access the internet on her laptop at school, so she didn't have to worry about him checking her browsing history - all that research being done for her new fic…he'd definitely get the wrong idea.

Not that it mattered what he thought of her. But she'd rather he not go tell his friends about whatever he finds. She didn't need the entire football and cheerleading teams knowing about it. Being ignored by them was a far preferable existence.

Bracing herself, she took one last look in the mirror and headed back to the table, where she found Cassian sitting there with her computer closed, his hands folded over it.

He was grinning like an idiot. She didn't like it.

"What?" she asked as she sat back down.

"Nothing."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" His voice got a bit defensive, but his smile didn't falter. "I told you, I was just looking at your iTunes."

She didn't believe him, but she doubted he'd admit to anything. And she really didn't feel like continuing with a pointless conversation. "Whatever."

Nesta had just sat back down when the bell rang.

"Well, see you later, Nes!" He popped up and practically fled the student center. He really was one of the weirdest guys she knew, but it sure was a good view from behind.

She shook the thought away, cursing herself for even thinking it, and then packed up her computer, sliding it into her backpack. She then picked up her iPod and pulled her headphones back on. She didn't yet have her new playlist, but she could just go back to the new album and listen through it again.

She went to click play and pick up where she left off, only to find that she was on the playlists screen, and at the top was something called 'Punk Rock Princess - Nesta's Mix'. That definitely hadn't been there earlier. She'd never once put her name on a playlist.

Class was starting in three minutes, Nesta didn't have time to look through it, so she put her iPod and headphones into her bag and rushed to math. She tried to distract herself with her classes, but her mind kept drifting to the playlist.

It had to have been Cassian. There was no other explanation. Playlists weren't just randomly generated or created by her iPod. She wished iTunes was so advanced. That would make life so much easier.

What did he put on the playlist? And why did he even bother? She couldn't imagine it being any good. He didn't know her music taste that well. It was probably just a joke playlist, maybe a bunch of dumb sounds. Something to annoy her, as he loves to do. Or worse…it might just be Disney Channel pop. A bunch of TV stars autotuned and singing songs written solely to be popular. Gross.

She should just delete the playlist. Not give Cassian the pleasure. But something was stopping her. She wasn't sure what it was, but she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. Not without listening first.

So, the moment the bell rang for her lunch period, she grabbed her iPod and headphones, and headed to the library where she could sit in the stacks and listen in peace. Clicking into it, she found the first song was, in fact, 'Welcome to the Black Parade'. Surprising, but she wasn't going to turn that gift away. She clicked play and then began scrolling through the list.

It was one favorite song after another. Blink-182, Green Day, Good Charlotte, Sum 41, Autopilot Off, Simple Plan. But there was also a sprinkling of stuff she didn't know. In particular there were a couple songs by a band called Paramore she hadn't heard of yet, but damn were they good. The vibes were on point and Nesta was shaken to her core. This was exactly the playlist she'd wanted to make that morning. She wasn't sure how that was possible, since she didn't even know all the songs earlier in the day, but this was it. This was what she wanted.

Nesta couldn't believe it. It was the perfect playlist. How did Cassian know? All he ever did was comment on her music, and ask questions about it. He'd never heard of half the bands he saw on her iPod, at least. So how did he make something like this?

Unless…was that why he did it? Why he was always looking at her iPod, asking her about her music? Had he been planning this?

She skipped around a bit, playing through the songs she didn't know, listening to the ones she did only partially so she could get through it all during lunch. And with just a few minutes left she made it to the last song, "Punk Rock Princess".

Nesta listened to it the whole way through, and for some reason she almost felt as if it was Cassian singing that song straight to her.

a/n: If you don't know "Punk Rock Princess" by Something Corporate, here's what the meaning is as written by someone on genius.com, but it's the interpretation I always had of the song, too: "It’s a classic story of a boy obsessing over a girl who’s outside his circle—Andrew is the classic surfer boy playing small gigs when writing “Punk Rock Princess” but he’s in awe of the coolness and attitude of this punk girl, and wants to find a way into her life." So hopefully that makes sense for the ending. XD

No shame or judgment to those who enjoy music by past Disney Channel stars' music from that time (or now). I owned Metamorphosis by Hilary Duff, and the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack. And I still listen to those cause they had some true bops. I just felt little teen punk rock Nesta might be a bit pretentious about them. Lol

Also, about Nesta not knowing Paramore, and/or questions on the timeline. That band came out in 2005, but didn't become more well known until 2007. This takes place autumn 2006, and while it's totally likely a Nesta-type would know them, I needed something for Cassian to have to make her be like "oh?".

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @lady-winter-sunrise @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @aks18 @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 months

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TROYE SIVAN - "GOT ME STARTED"

youtube

Just saying, we covered "Shooting Stars" all the way back in Two Thousand Fucking Nine. So, yeah.

[6.43]

Aaron Bergstrom: The 2009 Jukebox got this one right the first time around: "Electronic dance that's dressed in inexpensive pastels." "For such a florid production, it's surprisingly withdrawn." "The mosquito riff and use of space find the right balance between serenity and obnoxiousness.""Great little processed twists on familiar riffs that nonetheless fail to excuse a middling chorus and dull hook." If Troye didn't really feel like adding anything to the original source material, I don't see why I should have to. [5]

Ian Mathers: There are specific risks to interpolating a meme song, and "Got Me Started" does so little with Bag Raiders that it's just genuinely distracting. The rest of the song is pretty decent, and then every so often it just stops for me to picture a kid on a go kart flying through space. [6]

Will Adams: Yes, "Shooting Stars" was a hit down under over a decade ago, well before Katy Perry used it in a a video; it's conceivable that an Aussie would want to pay tribute. But for a lapsed YouTuber (and co-writer Leland, Drag Race fixture and MUNA collaborator as he is), there's no way they didn't consider the meme. And yes, it's distracting. The rest of "Got Me Started" is polite, of-the-moment pop fluff, but when that reedy synth pops in, I'm taken out of everything. [4]

Leah Isobel: The first time I heard that fucking sample, I cackled. Troye, my favorite emotionally vacant twink, just as allergic to genuine feeling as ever, just as unable to let something be without putting quotation marks around it. But where past Troye singles made that feel like a flaw he wanted to make up for, "Got Me Started" makes that resistance feel like part of its design. His voice is pitched up and around, part of the track's silvered machinery, so that the feelings he's expressing can separate from his body and throat; "we should experiment even to the detriment of whoever's on the couch" is a perfect pop lyric, stupid and profound and precise. It's the sound of desire entering from another dimension, like a half-remembered song heard on the radio, or in a meme. [8]

Michael Hong: Troye's music has always put well-manicured taste over everything else, so this stupid joke of a sample feels at odds with his approach, its piercing melody overpowers his quiet earnestness. [3]

Oliver Maier: I don't really object to the sample choice, but it's deployed like an afterthought rather than a centerpiece, as if Sivan couldn't write a riff and realised that "Shooting Stars" worked well enough over the chords. "Experiment/detriment" is an unconscionable rhyme. [5]

Kayla Beardslee: I don't know the sample well enough to have the Pavlovian reaction to it that I know some of the other writers do, so to me this song is just a crowning achievement in the possibilities of sensitive and sparkly synthpop. (Shoutout to Ian Kirkpatrick, this is one of the best things he's ever produced.) I'm obsessed with the balance of textures in this track: it's so vibrant and shimmery, but with a ton of depth and movement beneath the pretty surface, and the tasteful playing with vocal delivery grounds the song in little moments of honesty to keep it from sounding too perfect (the subtle crowd noise in the background of the first verse, the whispered "let's go" before the chorus, the ever-so-slightly pitched-up hook, the background vocals echoing the title of the album at the end of the song). Yet there's still enough empty space left between the gentle chords to sit, reflect, and look at at someone the way you would look at a sunset. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The ethos of Sivan's recent work is the primary truth of the physical above all -- yet he can't quite seem to get there on "Got Me Started." He says that he misses using his body, and everything here does feel slightly disembodied. The production is most of the problem: that sample, those nods to UK Garage, every single one of Ian Kirkpatrick's Mura Masa-isms, all adding up to slightly less than what it should be. Troye himself does better; his default inclination of ecstatic, wan yearning continues to work just fine on the dancefloor, but he doesn't quite achieve enough in the joyous lack of subtext here to overcome limpness of the production. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Sivan's Something to Give Each Other is what I wanted Kylie's Tension to be: sexy, groove-riding, not working overtime to be full of hits. You can hear Sivan smiling as he sings! The light 2-step rhythm on "Started" becomes him. Producer Ian Kirkpatrick worked on Dua Lipa's first record, and of course, this has a similar smart & knowing vibe. This is a single that knows just what it's doing. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: I actually dig that having a terrible television show that praises immense abuse and violence doesn't end your career anymore because we wouldn't get this tender, vulnerable song from Xander towards the first man he's met since getting out from under Mauricio and Jocelyn's thumbs, who's charismatic but warm, passionate but empathetic, funny but sensitive, someone you can lay your worries down on without worry about them weighting him down -- wait, his name is Troye? Oh. Yeah, it is kinda weird all the YouTube I watched of him referring to him as Troye never mentioned Xander before this year. Gonna fix th- (gets up and dances, never actually finishes the blurb- [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: "Why does he have my psyche in a chokehold?" quipped SNL. It's a good question. Shirt small as can be, pants as big as they come, Troye Sivan is finally commanding his position in culture, and "Got Me Started" is but one of the tools in his arsenal. If this song can get Timothée Chalamet, the moisturized Machine Gun Kelly he is, to do the choreography on SNL along with Lucy Dacus, Pheobe Bridgers, and Julien Baker; if this song can inspire local drag queens to lean the choreography in one night and perform it the next day at brunch; if this song can have me clamoring for my own Gucci glitter suit; if this song can take a meme and turn it into a supremely danceable sing; Troye might finally come the mainstream pop star he deserves to be. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: A Y2K masterclass. The Bag Raiders sample is relatively modern but evokes the halcyon days of Venga; the "oh baby baby" tag evokes the ingenue days of Britney; the percussion obviously evokes the newly re-beloved days of garage. Everything is just so evocative, and tasteful, trading curated competence for feeling and immediacy. The lyrics actually do a pretty good job of describing the sort of lightning chemistry that yanks you away from propriety ("we should experiment to the detriment of whoever's on the couch" -- damn). But nowhere is that spark found in the song. [6]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: This song sounds like being absolutely blitzed drunk at a pie shop in Collingwood at 2am, a very Australian experience I'd hazard a guess I share with Troye Sivan. I'd be totally on board with this song if this vibe matched the lyrics, but that's not exactly the case here. Also, the Australian-ness of that Bag Raiders sample is completely subsumed by its meme-ness at this point, so it's hard to think of this song as anything other than a minor failure, though a decently entertaining one. [5]

Alfred Soto: That sample is a menace -- couldn't he have found a more complementary sound to play against that lovely electric piano? Maybe he thinks the voice distortion is that sound. Still, Sivan's in fine fey form, and lines like "we can experiment to the detriment of whoever's on the couch" will make Neil Tennant double check his relative pronouns. [7]

Brad Shoup: I have no relationship with "Shooting Stars", so I'm delighted by what Alfred delightfully calls a "mosquito riff". I find it thoroughly agreeable, unlike Sivan's mosquito voice on the chorus, which intrudes on an otherwise chill golden hour. (Blame Ian Kirkpatrick for that.) Otherwise, it's tame fun, a sleepily flirty garage-pop track that suggests Zayn handing "Love Like This" to Harry. [6]

Rachel Saywitz: Feel like one day this will be cited in an academic paper called "The Sexification of Mememology." Also gotta give Troye credit for creating a new meme from the sexifying the old meme. [7]

Josh Winters: If anxiety is the sensation of the desire of the other (as Lacan once theorized), it's a dilemma Troye Sivan seems to run into regularly. It's intriguing to hear the paradox in how he plays it cool while processing his arousal, laying down a level-headed vocal melody between the 2-step beat skittering about and the sample buzzing like a heart monitor on high alert. The bursts of excitement that initiate the choruses help to move the action forward, but it's in the moments where the beat drops out, time hangs in the air for a second, and he taps into his vulnerability to offer it to the other. "Boy, can I be honest? I wanna tell you what's on my mind." Eventually, the many pulses of the present align, and Troye can surrender to the heat of the moment in all of its sexy glory. It's hilarious and frustrating how navigating desire can feel like finding yourself in the same tired situation, but then each experience can provoke something unearthed in us with every new person we come into contact with. And yet, despite the discomfort, it's a threshold I'm willing to push through time after time. After all, aren't anxiety and excitement one and the same? [9]

Alex Ostroff: This is where I hear Damita Jo not just in Troye's lyrics, but also the music. The smooth glide of "SloLove" is all over this, albeit filtered through the current UKG and 2step revival. My ignorance of the sample can't be chalked up to age - we apparently covered it on Jukebox five months after I started writing here - but I'm still protected from the intense meme-related reactions everyone else on the planet seemed to have. Instead, I'm captured by Troye's whispered, "Let's go", as he finds a man in the corner of a crowded house, locks eyes, and confesses, "Boy, can I be honest? Kinda miss using my body", then suggests experimenting to the detriment of the sofa's current occupants. Or by his deep muttered "yeah" at 2:45. The brazen sample is also just tacky enough to disrupt the perpetually chill tastefulness that risks taking over other parts of the album. Neither track we're covering today is the best single from this era - that honour belongs to Troye's fascinating, thorny, pathetic, power tripping, horny, vaguely self-loathing exploration of the appeal of ostensibly straight boys, but "Got Me Started" is definitely the one most likely to get me on the dancefloor. [9]

David Moore: If you're going to pay to jack Bag Raiders so two thousand and late, why would you try to flatten it into atmospheric mush like this, like trying to roll gumballs into cookie dough? Either wrangle with what the thing is or at least chew it up and deface it; for god's sake, Katy Perry was the last one to touch it. It's not some hiding-in-plain-sight gem from a bygone era, it just sounds unfashionably old, like everything from 2008-2010 will sound forever (not sure why this is, some sort of world-historical demarcation point, but subtler than electrification or a world war). And this in turn makes Troye Sivan sound old, even though he's only 28, which I guess must be 40 in Troye Sivan years. Anyway, I just went back to listen to "Whatever You Shoot" from Dirty South Dance 2 to see if that sounded old, too, and guess what! It did. But not as old as I thought it might, and certainly not as old as this one makes me feel. [4]

Taylor Alatorre: Even in the best of cases where a recognizable sample is used as a song's backbone, it's hard to escape the feeling that a bit of cynicism was at work in its creation: they did it because it was easy, or because the label asked them to, or just to flex on us that they could, et cetera. I detect absolutely none of that cynicism here, as it's clear that Sivan is approaching "Shooting Stars" from a place of wide-eyed reverence and awe, and a desire to extrapolate upon the dreamily familiar soundscape rather than crassly exploit it. The transitions between late-aughts indie dance and early-aughts garage aren't totally seamless, but the implicit link that the song draws between online and offline forms of connection is compelling enough to smooth things over. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The sample is an admirable choice, all silliness-turned-serious to match the way love and libido make all things new. Imagine if a celebrity sexted "kinda miss using my body" and a screenshot of that message went viral on Twitter. People would spout opinions about it being corny and cringe. They're right, but isn't that true of anything that involves our body? [7]

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