#Because the first kiss was one hell of a train wreck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hh0320 · 1 year

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𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞;

part four of the velvet opiate series. part one. part two. part three.

pair. rockstar! hyunjin x fem! reader (+ felix, minho, chan) | genre. visual gothic rock band, romance, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s | warnings. profanity, smoking, mature themes, drug & alcohol abuse, violence, descriptions of drug use, mental health struggle, use of petnames | word count. 10k

a/n: i want to apologize for taking so long with this chapter. i had no idea so many ppl would message me about this story, begging me to continue it. i never abandoned the velvet boys, they’re always in my heart, i’m always thinking about them even when i’m not writing. anyway, this one is a wild ride, so i just want to mention that i don’t associate the boys with these behaviors, nor the language spoken. this is purely fictional, these are just characters. one more chapter to go. thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated 🤍

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @adoreweb, @j-0ne25, @streetlight-s.

Hyunjin hadn’t seen you in two and a half months.

Hadn’t had heroin for more than that, nothing to numb him, the pain, the voices, the fucking train wreck his band had become after the ‘biggest rock scandal in ten years.’ So they’d slept with a couple groupies—big fucking deal. But it wasn’t just that, was it, because apparently one of them was now fucking pregnant and demanding for the father to recognize the child, to compensate for his doings.

It wasn’t just that, because it was the slut Hyunjin had fucked. A big fucking deal because Minho has been exposed for his cocaine indulgence, and has had to answer to the authorities, to pay bail and do community service or go to prison for a year. Chan wasn’t talking to them. Felix had been violent with Hyunjin for the first time since they met, beating the shit out of him outside their hotel, paparazzi gathering like crows to feast upon their rotting flesh.

And now Velvet Opiate was going on a national tour, press for before and after their album release. Thirty dates, over the course of winter. The label thought it wise to ride this wave of unprecedented publicity to the cost of their demise. The band was in shambles, Hyunjin was absolutely certain they’d break up before this year came to an end. They’d fucked it all up, let fame get to their head, let the cash control them, lead them to the brink of destruction.

Here they lay, clowns in a circus, with new hair colors, and an upgraded wardrobe, Westwood Spring collection ‘00. A new fucking century ahead of them with nothing to show, the world coming to an end. His mind was a dark place, darker than ever. There was no escape from this, no light at the end of the tunnel. Hyunjin would have to walk in the nine circles of Hell for all eternity, regretting ever being alive. Such was the fate of an unloved child.

No Felix, no you. Just him and his pathetic druggie ways, a vessel full of holes, loveless, poison in human form. You’d know by now, he’s sure, after all, every channel in the country is reporting on the news, another band flying too close to the sun, blinded by arrogance and ambition. A fucking cliché.

A day before they were to mount the tour bus, Hyunjin went to look for you at the club you worked at. If you were even still there, he didn’t know, he wasn’t able to contact you, wasn’t allowed to, and after everything, was too ashamed to try. His angel, his pure girl; he’d tainted you now, had dragged you into his bullshit life, spread the plague, and possibly lost you forever. But you were still his, his lifeline, the only exit, the only beginning he ever had.

Hyunjin would explain, he would beg, he’d get on his knees and kiss the fucking ground if you so desired. If it meant you’d stay with him. Felix saw him leave, bangs covering his tired eyes, leather jacket a few sizes too big on him. His friend had stopped eating a while ago, was now stubbornly relying on nicotine and alcohol for survival.

His friend but always more. The rings wrapped tight around his middle finger, heavy. Ivy luring him deep in its vines, drowning down under. Twins no more, they whispered to him sometimes. Felix would look in the mirror and see black, would think of Hyunjin and dream of a blade digging into his very chest, by his own hand. Honeycomb locks on his shoulder as he cried, as his knees gave out, death greeting him with a cold handshake.

You’re losing something important, his mind would say. You’re letting it slip right through your fingers. Just the night before, a nightmare like no other. The corpse of him lying next to his lover's. A suicide, a sacrifice.

“In a rush?” He calls out to the knife. Let it do its killing—it is fate, after all.

Hyunjin jerks, didn’t expect to hear Felix’s voice. A week had passed like a decade. It had been loneliness rendering him sleepless, lying on a bed that wasn’t his, no one to calm him down, to bring him back to reality.

Hyunjin also had no voice, had screamed it all out in his alcohol induced breakdown, had smoked it gone. He tried to reply anyway, wouldn’t miss the opportunity of mending things with his twin, his best friend. His equal.

“Never—for you,” he rasped, words broken in half.

They move closer like magnets, and the tension suffocates the blonde, makes him want to dip his head in ice water, freeze his brain, shock himself into a heart attack. This is what it feels like meeting Felix in the middle—like electrocuting yourself.

“I don’t want your fucking flattery,” Felix snarls, but he means none of it. Pay attention to me always, come to me at long last, no more of this torture.

Hyunjin flinches, fidgeting for a cigarette. “What do you want, then?” It is a whisper, because it is the question that matters most.

It is the truth that will ruin or make him.

They stare at each other, light and dark, black and gold, and a single moment passes before they both reach for each other, fingers grabbing onto fabric, pulling closer. Hyunjin’s bruised eye still hasn’t healed, and his cut lips sting as Felix presses him own on them. The fight is evident, because it’s them and they will never truly attest to this, to what runs between them, cocks too proud, bond stronger than bodily pleasures.

Still, hands push, mouths devour. In public, for anyone to see, under security cameras. Does it even matter at this point in their career, so beyond fucked over by their choices and decisions?

“What will your girl say about the bitch you knocked up?” Felix mumbles into the kiss, and Hyunjin growls, pins him against the wall between their rooms.

“Keep her out of your jealous fucking mouth.”

“What will you do, Hyunjin?” And that’s it. Like nothing happened. “You can’t keep her; you can’t let her go. Don’t go.”

The taller boy pulls back, straightens his jacket, lights a cigarette. Black stares, lips swollen, angry, hurt.

“If I don’t see her, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay clean this time, Felix. I say this to you as a cry for help. So no one can say shit to me.”

His friend sighs, and wipes at his mouth. Hyunjin looks at the rings on his finger, then at his own identical ones. “What if she refuses you, then? You’re gonna have to marry this girl, Hyun, do you understand how fucked this is?”

“I can’t do this right now, Lix.” With a press of his forehead against his twin’s, Hyunjin turns and goes straight for the stairs, descending in a hurry.

The more time he wasted, the less likely it was you’d forgive him. Felix kissed him, that was all that mattered—one good fucking thing in the world. He wishes he could say the same for the itch.

It was back. And it was stronger than ever.

Red Lights remained the exact same, an aching constant to Hyunjin's stormy life. In reality, nothing much had changed, nothing at all—except him. Drunks still occupied the bar stools, powder was still being snorted off the sinks in the bathrooms rendered in neon hues, the booth he frequently reserved was empty, off limits to anyone but him and his chosen company. His manager still paid a percentage to the club, the bartender still asked if he needed the ‘White Lady.’ Out of habit, perhaps. Hyunjin knew better than most—habits were fucking hard to break, even harder to quit.

“It’s our favorite guitarist, everyone!” You exclaim from behind him. “Jisung, give him a shot, quick. He has plenty to celebrate these days, it seems.”

He can’t turn around fast enough, and you give him no time to do so. You ignore his outstretched hand, ignore everyone’s gasps as they recognize the familiar face that’s been playing on every TV in the country. Jisung gives him the clear shot hesitantly, eyes drifting between the golden-haired man and the waitress he’s worked with for the past year. He’ll be damned. But it doesn’t matter; none of it does. You’re all red and black, smoky eyes and sweaty skin—furious with him, and understandably so. All he wants is for you to look at him, to give him a chance to explain.

Hyunjin feels very much like the prey now, standing in the middle of the bar as you circle around him in your leather skirt, the same skirt he’d fucked you in all those nights ago. You carried a different light then, you seemed brighter, more innocent. A sweet angel trapped inside the wings of the Devil. This time there were no wings, no sweetness about you. He’d cut his own freedom off and had sucked you dry—what he does best, what ultimately ended up happening to the one person he tried so fucking hard to keep clean, good.

He sensed the red poke under his skin, bleed onto him, take over his mind. He drank the strong liquid, tasted it on his chapped lips. His eyes followed your every movement silently, like a small child waiting to be reprimanded. Be angry with me, angel, yell at me, hit me, kill me if you must—anything but this. Please.

“Give me my bag, won’t you, Han?” you address the brown-haired man again once you come back from the table you’re serving. The music should drown you out, but Hyunjin has never heard anything clearer in his life. He’s clinging to your words by a thread—the cursed lifeline.

When your gaze falls on him, he almost breaks down right then and there. “Come on, Hwang Hyunjin, soon-to-be father, and a married man I’d assume. Let’s end this once and for all, shall we?”

“Angel, for fuck’s sake, don’t do this—”

You’re the biggest storm he’s ever had to endure. Your eyes are lightning that strikes him dead. He’d die by your hand, he’d die. He would. He knows this, he swears it.

“I’m going on break,” you call out and turn to walk away towards the back door. Hyunjin is out of breath, scared out of his body, doesn’t know what else to do other than follow.

So he does. Hitting the nails on his own coffin, delivering the eulogy for his funeral. Knife, the song he wrote for you, the title track available everywhere at midnight, the lyrics repeating in his head, a mantra, a wish, a prayer. He was never religious, but if one single God was willing to listen—let me keep her, let me keep her, let me have this one thing, this one girl, please, the only girl that matters.

You pass the threshold of the exit door first, Hyunjin holding it open for you, the proximity of your bodies stirring the darkness inside him. He’s been unfaithful to himself, not just to you. Even if nothing had been official between you; he’d proved you right, the words you threw at him that first night. He broke your trust, and didn’t even have the goddamn decency to, at least, tell you. The fact he’s getting any sort of ending is a fucking miracle. Mercy from an angel that could never belong to him.

“You changed your hair,” you comment coldly, keeping as much distance from him as possible.

He closes the metal door behind him slowly, leans on the coolness of it, the wet pavement glistening underneath his boots. He swallows, biting on the inside of his cheek. Then his fingers reach for the cigarettes again. Fucking habits.

“It wasn’t me,” he replies, and he wishes that’d be enough for other things too.

The man that fucked that girl, it wasn’t me. Anything that’s ever happened to him because of his addiction, it wasn’t him either. It couldn’t be. The lead guitarist on stage that tries to be cool, cigarette smoke clouding his vision, any time he’s doing interviews and says all that pretentious shit he’s rehearsed a thousand times over—he’d never be Minho, or Felix, or anyone besides a fake. A clown. An actor in a bad movie.

But the boy who paints alone in his temporary rooms? He likes to believe that’s him, or it could be. That somewhere inside, he had the potential of leading a peaceful life, with small happy moments like finishing a sketch, or writing a song. The person that came up with ‘Knife,’ the person he is with Chan and his notes, when they write melodies in the older members' makeshift studio. That’s who Hyunjin wishes most of all to be, to become. Someone worthy, someone able to provide happiness for others, not just for himself. Even a little.

“I wrote you a so—”

“I’d got you this to celebrate the conclusion of your recordings. Before… everything.” You move towards him to give him a black box, the familiar cross-topped orb surrounded by a ring logo he’s been wearing for most of his career staring back at him. You move back before he can keep you there, close, closer.

You slip away, again and again.

“(Y/N),” he looks at the box, then at you. The smoke burns his eyes. “Please, I can’t accept this.”

Despite your hard facade, he notices the slight flinch at his words. You turn your face away. Hyunjin panics, thinking he’s somehow offended you, so he quickly opens your gift, balancing the cigarette between his teeth. The silk encase contains a heavy metal chain with a locket hanging in the center of it, his name engraved on it.

“No,” he mutters, unable to control his body anymore, unable to control fuck all for that matter. “Angel, no, listen to me—”

You’re relentless, frozen in that fucking place of yours, so far away, suffocatingly too far. He forgets about what he should do, how he should respect your boundaries, your wishes. He lunges forward and grabs your wrists, turning your palms to him. He gives you the locket, as if the mere box touching his fingers burns him, gives way to fire and ruin. It does. It does.

“Put it on me,” he pleads, gripping at your delicate skin. “You got it for me, give it to me properly.”

You shake your head, and there are tears falling on his knuckles now. He sees them roll away, scorch his fingers, seep through his pores. Hyunjin shakes you, doesn’t know how else to convey his want. He wants to kiss you, wants to take you away, slip inside you, forget the shitshow that won’t stop happening, even then, especially then, because that means he’ll have to come back from it, from the special place, a place he never wants to escape from, the peaceful place he’s been dreaming of all his life.

Your fingers open the clasp as he leans forward, hands wrapping around your waist, and he inhales your scent, wishing this chain could interlock with another, so he can in turn wear it around your delicate neck and keep you close to him forever. It doesn’t last long, this daydream. The lock falls heavy against his sternum, and you pull away slowly, avoiding to touch back, to feel how real he feels under the tips of you. Because he is—real. He has been since the first day he locked eyes with you. You brought him to life, pulled him in, showed him his own heart.

The bag hanging from your shoulder drops to the ground, the thud of it a closing, an ending. He doesn’t accept it, he realizes he’s hurting you, that he should fuck off, leave you alone, he’s embarrassing himself, he’s pathetic in his attempts–Hyunjin has never fought for someone to stay. Has never had to, his life so full of people willing to leave, birds lingering on his branches before flying off, a moment of rest, somewhere to lay their burden, before they’re gone again, free, weightless. He’d accepted his fate, had made his peace—before you, all of it before you, and for every day after that never the same, nothing after you.

“I have no hold over you, rockstar.”

He blinks. For one goddamn second where human nature takes over and his eyes close—you jerk away from his touch and drop something in his hand. A small thing, something so mundane. A key. He blinks again, but it’s blurry this time, everything is. His heart has stopped, it seems, shop shutting down, system hijacked. Out of service. Hyunjin is crying. And it’s a first in the way that he’s never cried for love, not really, has never really known what it is to weep for it, even with Felix, because that was a different love, not this, not you, not you, not you—

“No,” the heaviest word he’s had to push out his lungs. “No, you’re wrong.” He searches for your eyes, he tilts his head, your gaze, he just needs that small connection with you, his body is on fire, his soul is decemating, he will die tonight, it hits him like a ton of bricks. If you walk away from him, he will die.

And it’s not blackmail, it’s not a manipulation tactic to get you to stay—you won’t know this, you won’t be aware, he won’t do that to you. You know nothing about that part of him, you never will. You’ll leave him behind and go back to bleeding red, and he’ll remain there, as he was, with his key and his engraved name and the itch that will take over once and for all. Maybe this time no one will find him, no one that can bring him back to a reality where he has no other escape other than death; no twin, no music, no band, no you. No you no you no you, fuck him fuck fuck fuck fuck—

Hyunjin doesn’t register his feet moving, his boots splashing in the rain puddles. He must look fucking insane, but he runs with all his might, as fast as he can—and then he throws that goddamn key away, never to see it again, never to be rid of this locket, of this weight that signifies your existence to him, whatever ounce of love you’ve felt for him. He wants all of it to lay on his back and push him to the ground, shove his fucking face in the mud and scream at him—I was here! I was here once and you shunned me away! You don’t deserve me.

An inhuman voice tears from his throat, a sound alien to him, he doesn’t recognize it. He looks around, surprised, awakened. He can’t breathe, and when the fuck will he stop crying? It’s two weeks ago all over again. He’s out of control, mad with grief.

“Hyunjin, you’re scaring me. Please stop. Stop!” Your hands on him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

There is no gravity holding him, nothing tying him down. He kneels, neck exposed to you, your gift. He stares at your stomach, as all fight escapes him. Nothing to lose, already lost. He sings, the lyrics that bloomed inside him once, now sung barely above a whisper—

I tried counting her smiling pain… I’ve lost my dreams and my love; lashed by the rain, I’m crying, I’m crying, I’m crying…

“What do I need to do, to be able to live as I am, without dressing myself up?” Hyunjin stops and looks up, at your tear stained face, a mirror looking back at him with nothing to say. He’ll say it for you, he’ll admit to the one truth he can. “I’ll wear this till the day I fucking die. I swear it, angel.”

Your beautiful face scrunches in pain, trying so hard not to break down, wanting to let him go, but holding on to him for dear life. “You don’t owe me anything,” but it’s not true. It’s not true.

He’s never been more sure of anything else— “I owe you my fucking life.”

Can you lose yourself two times over? He’ll never apologize for feeling so intensely, for getting fucked over for his heart. This is his show, his little play up on that stage he put himself on, and the curtains aren’t drawing just yet. The last act hasn’t yet began.

He doesn’t see you again until his birthday, half a year later.

Minho wipes at his nose.

Take his pixie dust away and he’ll resort to his absolute last option—pills. Anxiety pills, to be exact, forcibly prescribed by his former doctor for his unhinged nerves; former because the son of a bitch thought he’d try his luck with the ruthless bassist. The only way he’d be able to finish the tour, and go the fuck back into hiding at once, away from all the goddamn crazy people—their supposed fans—and their accusatory fingers.

If there was one thing, Lee Minho never pretended to be anything other than what he was. Who he was. An orphan. A loveless person, someone that had lost all hope, not just for himself but for everyone else, too. Part of him had died in that accident a few years back, and the rest of him had no intention of trying to revive whatever remained. There was no reason.

So, crushing and snorting Lexapro had become the new normal, the temporary solution to making it through shows and press. Getting rid of all evidence was proving to be quite the task, though, and it was taking a major toll on the purple haired man, only second to his and his band mates’ insomnia problems. The cause—obsessive stalker fans that seemed to monitor their every waking moment, waiting for a sliver of an opening to bring them down, to destroy them once and for all.

It’d started with a fucking mistake. As most things do. A split second of weakness, a lack in judgement. He should’ve known better, as should’ve Hyunjin. Because of this, all were to suffer until their heads were on flaming spikes on national television for the world to witness. Minho would rather slice his wrists open and bleed to death in the crammed tour bus bathroom, than answer to the public for his private life.

He was hurting no one. And he was certainly done with slip ups. One more show, he kept repeating putting on the outfit laid out by the stylist for tonight. One more show and I’ll be free. He thinks this until it’s time for soundcheck, and the lead guitarist is nowhere to be fucking found. Minho doesn’t even have to look at Chan to know.

The arena was empty, stretching enormous from ground to ceiling, the echo great and deafening as the staff tuned the instruments in the background. Rows upon rows of empty seats, exit lights shining brightly on each side. Felix sat on the second aisle, smack in the middle, boots propped in the seat in front of him, red plaid pants with buckles and zippers making him stand out amidst endless grey.

“Why fucking bother?” He calls out to the drummer, words resounding. “He does this shit every single day.” Black strands of hair fall in his eyes, and Minho doesn’t miss the bitterness of his tone.

“People paid to see us, Felix,” Chan replies, making his way from his drum set. His bulky biceps flexed as he pushed his hair back, the black sleeveless shirt accentuating the muscles further. “We owe it to them to at least have all four members on the damn stage.”

“Do we now,” Minho mutters under his breath. Fleeing, lately, had started to sound like a sane idea. A small mercy, even.

“You tried the waiting room?”

“I just came from it.”

The bassist clears his throat, descends the stairs from the stage. “Someone’s providing him with it—I’d check the staff’s bus’.”

Chan whips his head towards him. “I thought Joon had checked every motherfucker during the hiring process.”

“Rats can slip through cracks, Bang.”

Wasn’t that the truth. It was, after all, how he’d managed to survive all those years. He knew better than most about sneaking around; killing yourself with the help of others—people that would benefit from your downfall, because that way they could sell you out, make profit out of your misery.

Velvet Opiate fed on misery. They relished in it.

Minho was about to call for security to go and find Hyunjin, discreetly and without fuss. As was the way of such awful situations, where no one particularly wanted to get their hands dirty—or find a rotting corpse in a random parking lot in a city entirely too far from home. He informed them of the alleged whereabouts, but just as the two men were walking away, Chan cursed loudly and smacked his hand on the back of a seat, expression furious, exhausted, worried.

“I’ll go my goddamn self. Fuck this.”

Felix shot up immediately, hand reaching to halt his older friend. Chan avoided it swiftly, and walked determined to the nearest exit, set on figuring this out on his own—again. How many chances till they pronounce you a lost case? Minho wonders. A cursed battle.

“Chan, wait!” Felix tries to follow.

Minho holds him back. “Don’t. You’ll only make it harder for yourself.”

The boy’s eyes were wide, anxious. In love. For the longest fucking time, and despite, which was a curious thing. What we can do for it, suffer endlessly in loops—for someone to hold our hand, wrap themselves around our bones. Minho had it, once. Never again after that.

“He doesn’t know how to deal—”

The bassist sighs. “And you do? Yongbok, you insist on this torture and for what? You’re soft and blinded by selfishness. Love,” he chides. “Hyunjin doesn’t need someone like you.”

He sees the pretty hands balling into fists, the snarl of the younger’s lip, the hate burning in his button eyes. It does nothing for him.

“You’re wrong,” he spits, and there’s pure venom laced in his words. “None of you understand him, you’ve never tried to. He shoved needles in his fucking veins, Minho, do you think he cares about himself when he does that?” Tears gather, and fall. Minho remains silent, bites his tongue. “Motherless, lost in the world, clinging on a girl that’s long abandoned him… what the fuck, man. What’s it gonna take!”

He’s running before the older boy can stop him again. Pushes the heavy door open and disappears into the bright sunlight, leaving the bassist behind. The only one unshaken by the possibility of the events. It wasn’t indifference or coldheartedness that kept Minho grounded in the arena; it was calculated compassion. No one wants to hear a story twice—how he, too, was motherless, lost in his mind and in the goddamn world, clinging onto remnants of a girl half forgotten—no one cares, because a story told too many times is fucking reality, it’s been-there-done-that, it’s no big deal.

But Minho wasn’t someone that complained a whole lot, if ever. And he isn’t letting his friend die because it’s a hassle to get involved; he does it because addiction doesn’t stop unless there’s no one around to grab onto. No help, no second third fourth fifth chance. Hyunjin needs a fucking wakeup call harsher than nearly OD’ing. No one coming. His worst fear slapping him in the face.

“That girl of his figured it out faster than his own band,” he muttered bitterly to the emptiness staring at him.

The bass greeted him in melancholy.

Outside, Felix caught up to the leader, eyes panicked, searching the parking lot maniacally.

Chan’s anger was calmer, a sea storm felt deep within him, bubbling but contained for the meantime. It took nothing for him to lash out at strangers, but to family? He had the patience of a hundred old oak tree, unyielding, the roots having roots, having roots…

They took upon searching the buses themselves, Felix climbing up the stairs and yelling at everyone to tell him if they’ve seen Hyunjin. Some were still getting ready or having a late breakfast, but all looked at him dumbfounded, confused.

“He’s not with you?” A light technician asked dumbly.

Felix rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came from, ignoring the musty smells and disgusting underwear on the floor. “No, I’m asking ‘cause he’s right outside.”

“Are you giving me snark, boy?”

The black haired boy turned around so fast he saw stars. Two men standing near him widened their eyes and backed away in surprise, but the older man only pressed further, his nose stuck high in the air.

“Do you wanna fucking go?” Felix asked, riled up. “Cause I’ve been itching for a fight, bro, so don’t fucking play with me.”

No one expected it to escalate that fast, but before anyone could even blink, the two men were at each other’s throats, punches midway. Everyone jumped in just before the assistant stage manager could land his fist on the rockstar’s face, and that’s when Chan showed up, his loud voice making the singer stop and look.

“What the fuck are you doing?” It boomed down on all of them and shook the walls of the bus. “Are you fucking serious with this bullshit?” Breathing labored, stare wild, sweat dripping. “Come help me find my goddamn friend!” He barked. “All of you or you’re fucking fired, you hear me?”

And with that he stormed out, not caring to diffuse the situation, whatever it was. He couldn’t give a shit at that point. Hyunjin could be dead, and everyone seemed to care for their ass and their fucking pride. Fuck out of here.

“He’s not here,” is the only thing he’s heard so far, but just to be sure, he personally took a look around the bunks and in the bathrooms, keeping an eye out for any drugs or alcohol while he was at it. They’d been warned against any harmful shit for this tour; one strike and you’re out, special orders from the drummer. For their sake, it was a good thing he’d actually found nothing.

“I’ll call the hotel. Maybe he somehow found his way back,” Felix says and moves away from him, phone against his ear.

Chan doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to check. “I’m losing hope here, Hwang,” he mumbled to himself, quietly praying the tall boy would magically appear right in front of him, safe and sound. Highly unlikely; matter of fact, the possibilities of that happening were so slim that he wanted to laugh at himself for even considering it, but the desperation was so far etched in his brain, that he seemed to be hanging firmly from some sort of daydream. ‘October men and their maladaptive dream states,’ he had a girl tell him once, and he’s never forgotten it since.

“How’d you know when I was born?” He’d asked stupidly, as if this chick wasn’t a fan that had just attended his concert.

Her smile was the sexiest thing on her. “Hon, you wear ‘please love me I’m a good boy’ on your forehead.”

“Found him! Fuck, Chan!” Felix’s voice took him out of the bittersweet memory.

What did the brown-haired boy expect to see—not this. Anything but this. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out, could come out, and his head turned the other way immediately upon witnessing his bandmates state. Felix was on his knees next to him, completely on autopilot—Chan could see it from his dead eyes, doing what he did the last time he found him like this. Calling an ambulance, his other hand on the barely responsive guitarist, shaking him, keeping him awake.

“Fuck you for doing this to me twice, Hwang Hyunjin. Fuck you.”

Honeycomb hair over dilated, dark eyes, the pale man smiled a Cheshire smile, back sliding off the wheel of the bus. The leader actually whimpered seeing him do that, so completely lost in his high, his mind tripping over itself. The boy he knows used to be quiet, yes, introverted and thoughtful, but creative—so fucking creative, and animated. Full of life. Not this, whatever this was. Never this, and God fucking damnit when did it happen; when did he lose his best friend, the boy that came to him with a guitar and said he wants to play in a band? It all just seemed such a fucking lifetime away now.

“They’re saying they’ve already dispatched a vehicle to our location—” Chan sees Joon running up to them, a few of the staff he saw earlier in the venue behind him. It was only then that he noticed the siren going off in the near distance. “What do you mean, this is my first time calling you—”

“Minho called them,” Chan concluded, arms hugging his chest sadly. His cheeks were wet. “He already knew this would be what we’d find.”

The singer paused, looked up at him. Chan nodded sympathetically. Hyunjin’s head was dropping towards his twin again, but his lips were moving, his expression relaxed.

“The fucking asshole.”

“A realist,” the leader corrects. “Truly, Felix what did you think? That he’d be off buying us waffles or something? It’s his birthday and he’s falling off the side of a fucking bus, needle in hand. I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

"How much time do we have?" their manager asks roughly. "I told you, Bang. I told you if I ever found him doing this shit again, he's out!"

The drummer felt fire rush through his body, his fist rising in the air, all eyes on him—before connecting with the man's jaw, knocking him back, the sound violent, breaking. And fuck, did that feel good. It was a long time coming, the last fucking straw. He was done with it, the entire goddamn thing, taking orders, getting yelled at for situations completely out of his hands, the micromanaging, the sacrifices that lead to nothing—

Everyone was miserable. Everyone was hurting. Everyone wanted out.

"I'm sick of you putting words in my mouth. Sick of your fucking watch ticking like we're always running on your schedule. Look at him!" Chan croaked, the rage in his voice unbearable. "Fucking look at what your isolation did to him! Own up to your goddamn mistakes, you fucking coward!"

"Chan..." a dissonant sound behind him, coming down on him like a loved one from Heaven. "You got my back, Chan. Don't you?" a raspy laugh, not quite all there. "You got my back..."

Felix moved away, a supportive hand at the back of his twin's head, watching him with a crumpled gaze. Was the euphoria passing? If so, the best of the high was over. A life wasted for fifteen minutes of numbness. Of chemical happiness. The singer couldn't seem to keep the tears from running—and they ran, those useless things, hot, stinging, burning. What good did they do? Look at his love, watch as he's ruining himself on the dirty floor. He wasn't strong enough to even touch that goddamn needle, always hated getting shots, ever since he was a little kid. How could he bear taking the only thing that provides relief from his better half? His mirrored self? Even knowing it's a dead thing, even knowing it's not really that, that does the hurting.

It's the heart. The stupid heart.

"Why don't you kill me, then?" the honey dipped boy asked, paralyzed. Adrift. Broken. "Why don't you kill me?" A tear. Another tear. A pit of Hell, a mimicking nothingness. "Let me die, Chan..."

There are some words you don't say aloud. That make the monster real, that shatter the illusion. The leader could face the cold, hard truth—that the best guitarist he's ever known, the one that puts his soul in his music, in his fingers, his delicate hands—that person is a drug addict. That he uses needles to inject his liquified powders, and that his highs usually last three hours. That his friend has the deepest dark circles for a person who sleeps the most out of all of them. Sometimes, he has to slap him awake, force his eyes open. These are all truths, easy to digest, not-so-scary sentences that he's used to by now. That he's had to live with, in order to keep his band together.

But this? The fact of it? Who can face this? Who can be the bearer of the cross?

"Not me, Hyun," he replies, devoid of any emotion but sheer will for life. "Try in the next fucking life. I like having your sorry ass around a little too much."

Kintsugi, the Japanese called it. Repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. It treats breakage as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. There was no fixing Hwang Hyunjin. But maybe they could start to respect that, instead of desperately trying to cover it up, to get angry with it.

"Huh..." A crack of a smile, much like porcelain. "Is it still my birthday, Lix?"

Felix sniffled, rubbing at his nose, huffing out a devastating laugh. "It is, you goddamn menace."

A sheepish nod, soft golden bangs hiding beautiful, closed eyes. "Then we have a concert to attend, don't we?"

"I think so. You need a cigarette?"

A hand falling on top of his. An eclipse, the moon and the sun meeting, at long last. A celebration of the dark side.

"You know it." Then a hum, as his soulmate in male form lights the stick for him, taking a drag to get it going, then putting it between his fingers. A hum that turns into a familiar melody. "I just went through so much hell, went through so much, darling... I'm the warning, burn...burn..."

Chan nears his friend, extending an arm for him to take. The younger man peeks an eye open to it, inhaling smoke until his lungs know nothing else. He assesses the gesture, knows it means no more sulking on the pavement, no more gut-wrenching pain. Alone no more. Perhaps never alone, though not always clear.

He took it.

"Cancel the ambulance, don't let the crows anywhere near," the drummer tells a security guard. "We don't need this. It's our last show today."

As for Velvet Opiate, the curtains were drawing. Indefinitely.

Felix would love to say that their last concert was a hit, a success by label standards, and that everything went according to plan, but—well, that would be a fucking lie, wouldn't it? The setlist consisted of twenty songs, excluding the encore, most of which fell on him to pull through, and with twenty-nine shows on their back, plus countless radio shows and interviews for the album, his voice was completely and utterly fried, hanging on by herbal tea every night, and vocal rest—never. He liked to believe he took care of himself, definitely better than the others, but was that really true, or just default when pitted against an addict, an almost convict, and an insomniac?

It wasn't judgement. It more so felt like pity. What was Lee Yongbok's thing? What did he offer except deep, cave-like vocals and front man looks? Wasn't that just the bare minimum? What set him apart, what was the deciding factor for his status in the Rock scene? The poster outside the arena had him positioned in the center, newly dyed black hair pulled back in a half ponytail, standing next to Hyunjin, resting an arm on his naked shoulder as the guitarist smoked a cigarette and looked down at his Ibanez RG550. Always together, never apart. Out of everyone, it feels like he believed it the most. Is he worth nothing besides this? He didn't want to be petty anymore, have this green intent to turn everyone away from his moon, because he knew it wouldn't realistically get him anywhere. What was his twin above all?

Straight. To Felix, the line would always be bent.

Alas, he wasn't a realist. But he also wasn't an asshole. As soon as that spotlight shone on him, he noticed you in the first row, still as death, big arms wrapped around you, a man much taller than him hugging you from behind. Did you come to haunt? A ghost unable to find its way out of the body, destined to float about the living world until someone set it free? Was it closure you were seeking, so many miles away from home, and on the day Hyunjin had decided to play ridiculously fucking high?

If so, why rub salt on the wound? Why bring hemlock to a man so willing to die? He wished for many things then; for Hyunjin to go blind and never notice you, ever again. For that padlock to magically open itself and fuck off back to where it came from, because where Chan had never heard the blonde begging to die, Felix had to physically stop him from ending it all, that night he came back from you. He still remembers stealing all sharp objects from his room, and locking the boy in the bathroom, hearing his banging, his pleading, his tears through that white door, relentless, haunted haunted haunted, until the early hours of the next day.

When would Hyunjin escape the ghosts? Jesus, fuck.

"Good evening, we're called Velvet Opiate," he spoke in his baritone tone. The one he had to force. "Welcome to the Knife Tour. There's nothing left to fucking bleed. Let's go!" he screamed, as the intro to 'Liar' played by Minho, a bass-heavy tune that he'd written himself.

During the first three songs, Chan kept his eyes entirely on the lead guitarist. He wasn't quite stumbling, just sort of...balancing on his legs like they were sticks, with that famous cigarette that never seemed to burn out. He made no mistakes, kept up with the tempo, and generally looked fine, so the drummer decided to return back to his instrument and quit babysitting.

The first bottle was thrown when Hyunjin locked eyes with you. It smashed right next to him, and nearly scraped his cheek. Felix froze, but continued singing, turning momentarily to check on his bandmate. If he saw it or not, it wasn't written anywhere on his face, instead seeming to be entirely hypnotized by the inevitable standing mere feet away from him.

"I saw your face, I saw your face...and the light," the singer drawled dreamily, as security found the person responsible and dragged them away.

There seemed to be a group of them, all gathered on Hyunjin's side, and some of the fans took notice of that, yelling and pointing at them. Felix showed the problem area with his hands to the remaining staff, but not before a different person managed to throw another one, this time hitting the microphone stand. He maneuvered around it, grabbing the mic and walking to the other end of the stage, crouching to sing to a fan that was screaming her lungs out, reaching her arms out to him.

“I’m gonna please you, please me, please you, please me.” The lights turned a deep red color, staining everything in the arena, as Felix jumped to the barricades and sang the words close to the girl’s mouth, staring into her eyes. She went ballistic and started crying immediately, so he petted her hair and moved away quickly, hand in the air to collide with open palms.

On the stage, Minho was studying the crowd coldly, waiting for that one last fucking straw that’d make him lose it and get on the first plane back to Tokyo. He’s had enough—of this forsaken tour, of the aggressive fans, the bullshit that came with fame. They’d sold one million copies in their first week, for fuck’s sake, why do they need to tour the entire nation? It was a goddamn cash grab, nothing but a circus, and they were only getting forty percent of it.

Well into the set, Hyunjin looked like Hell. While Felix had taken it upon himself to speak and interact before introducing the next song, the guitarist sat down by the stairs and lit a cigarette, his naked, sweaty torso glistening under the intense lighting. Minho watched as he took his earpiece out and motioned to a staff to come to him, leaning to say something, before the person ran off to do whatever he was instructed to. The blonde hair was sticking to his neck, but it also blended in with the paleness of his skin, making him appear angelic, or something close to it. Ironic, considering, the bassist thought.

Still. Something was bothering him; it was clear to see. And it wasn’t the high.

“Every time I remember…nails dig into my heart,” Felix sings, then pauses, hearing the rest of the words being sang to him. “Oh, what lovely voices! But do they sing it as good as our lyricist?” He turns to the boy on the stairs, currently hunched over smoking, guitar on his back, his eyes never leaving your figure, as yours don’t either.

A man? In his show? While he’s bound by your chains? How cruel of his angel.

“Oi, Hyunjin. You wanna sing this one? My throat is fucked, lover boy,” the main singer waits for the request to register in the guitarist’s ears, before a sound person appears out of thin air to pass him a microphone. “Doesn’t he look fuckable today? Such a shame there’s no one to warm his bed…”

Twenty thousand voices joined to yell, “I can!” Even Minho couldn’t help chuckling to that.

Hyunjin checked to see if the microphone worked, shyly, taking the cig out of his mouth slowly, exhaling smoke like a goddamn fireplace, before bowing his head slightly to the crowd, and introducing himself.

“Hello, I’m Hyunjin of Velvet Opiate,” he mumbles, pushing hair out his eyes with his thumb. The fans went insane.

It was no secret he was the most popular member, despite never wishing to be. The label always promoted him as a sort of Jim Morrison character, brooding and quiet. Which he was—but not because of reasons the public might think. He was surprised no one had picked on the fact he was high as a fucking kite. Himself, he thinks he’s about the highest he’s been in a long time. Nothing spins, yet everything moves.

“His first baby,” Felix meant the song, but Chan inwardly facepalmed. “Most likely,” he added, humor to lessen the tension. “Acapella, Hyun?”

“No,” he replied. “This is ‘Knife.’ For the girl that breathed life into me then broke my fucking heart.”

The eerie melody started playing, the musician they’d hired to be on the keys specifically for this song following after. Taking a deep breath, and a long drag of nicotine, Hyunjin joins in a gentle, hard voice, a reprimanding tone, watching his girl in the arms of someone else—

“If I can have something from you… I have nothing, I’m so sad…I can’t take being alone. Every time I remember, nails dig into my heart…”

They must hate him now. Or resent him. Once the adrenaline of the concert, of the music passes, they’ll turn against him once more, prey for their headlines and magazine articles. Just a product made specifically to be taken apart, forced to turn itself into a thousand pieces so there’s enough for everyone. He’ll gladly be their doll, he thinks. You seem to hate him too. In fact, you do, don’t you?

Something he can’t take. He won’t.

He got up and walked down the remaining steps, all the while keeping the same breathy, heartbreaking tone that had you limply hanging from your date’s arms, gasping for air. He wasn’t the best singer, he was nowhere near one, to be completely fucking honest, but no one could sing that song better than him, in that specific moment, as you’re staring at his face like he’s the one that tore you apart.

The lock is still around my chain, angel. Until I die. I told you.

“Let me hear your voice more, I tried so hard to bear with it…the knife turns, my heart spills, blood mixed with tears…it must be my love. Here lies my love…”

Chan brought the drums to a crescendo, while Hyunjin gave his mic to a sound staff standing nearby, and brought his guitar around, feeling the strings under the tips of his fingers, eyes falling closed, his only purpose in life taking ahold of him, guiding him through, keeping him afloat. The rush is the same, he muses bitterly. Strumming chords, being in your presence—it equals his spoon, his lighter. His needles. Every time his soul is empty, he simply picks another addiction.

How truly fucking pathetic.

He plays for you, then. Stands right in front of you and that fucker, and pours his cursed, goddamned heart out, until nothing is left—the last of the poison outing, finally, finally, ridding him of humanity, of the filth and the shit, and his own weak attempts at pretending to understand life, and living, and why that fucking thing just has to keep…beating.

For what? So, he can witness with his own two eyes that for the one time that truly mattered—that he cared, that he loved, whatever the fuck that meant, he was abandoned? Again? And again, and again, and again. Lead guitarist/songwriter, Hwang Hyunjin, they’d said, is caught up in another scandal. Sources say the girl, twenty-year-old so-so, was receiving treatment at so-so hospital, when a pregnancy test came back positive. She alleges, that the baby belongs to the superstar, member of the controversial band Velvet Opiate.

A baby. His karma for betraying an angel. He expects to be buried six feet underground and never go anywhere, neither up nor down. Scum of the earth, and so he will remain. For his bones to decay, for his flesh to rot.

“How cynical you’ve become, my beautiful boy,” his mother would say, before leaving him alone once again.

Are you proud of your boy now, mom? He asked the crowd silently, fingers creating sound, creating art. His legacy of dust. Beautiful but never loved. Talented but immobilized.

“I tried counting her smiling pain… I’ve lost my dreams and my love; lashed by the rain, I’m crying, I’m crying, I’m crying…”

Bangs cover wet eyes. Fingers bleed on the smooth wood of the guitar, Ibanez RG550, always, but Hyunjin feels none of it. Not the heartbreak, not the injury. What does he feel?

Jealousy. How heavy his lids are, how sweaty his chest is. Unusually. Almost…painful?

He looks down. There’s blood everywhere. There’s glass all around him. He looks up. You’re freeing yourself from the arms, you’re screaming at him, you’re jumping the barricade. High as a fucking kite, huh? Must’ve been one of those beer bottles from earlier. Keep talking, Hyunjin, keep thinking, keep thinking!

A big noise on the stage. Minho smashing his guitar to smithereens. Minho walking out. On them. On him. On him.

“Who the fuck threw that?” Felix’s deep voice vibrates through him. “Who the fuck threw that?!” Louder. Angrier.

Life played out in slow motion after that. Like in the movies Hyunjin would watch as a kid. The lights would whirl, twirl, move move move, the people’s faces would melt off, their voices like a rewinding cassette, and his body would be floating, above all, nothing happening to him, nothing at all. He’d like for something to happen to him, he thinks, for once. He’s been too isolated, too cuddled.

Even dying requires a pass, a question for every attempt, hand raised, waiting patiently for something that never comes, that is never allowed.

The soundtrack to his life? His own digits playing the intro to their next song, unaware that he’s bleeding out in front of thousands of people, one member down, at long last the much-anticipated clown circus, coming in your town!

Don’t miss it!

He jostles out of sleep, sitting up at once, eyes wild, searching in the dark, chest heaving, needing air where air cannot be found. He'd blacked out again. He rubs his face, comes back to life, focuses on the one fixture of light, a bright hope on the other side of the tunnel. Hyunjin squints, tilts his head, tries to understand how a lamp has a head, and arms, and beautiful legs.

It walks, too. The light looks a lot like you, he thinks. Am I still high? Or am I finally... has the time come? Am I dead? Am I dead? He realizes he says this outloud, but his mouth doesn't stop moving, the shakes won't wear off for a little while still, and his cheeks are wet again.

When will he stop being so weak? He saw an angel and begged for death, instead of redemption. He's sick to his stomach, he can't stand himself. It's you, it's you, there, right there, coming over to him like you'd never left, never turned away, never abandoned—like a mother would come for her child, except he knows nothing about that, not how it feels, not how it looks.

Hyunjin jumps from the bed, long legs clad in black kicking off blankets, limbs reaching out, strands of yellow covering his vision, shielding him from reality, holding him in the in-between, a place where he gets to hold you again. To hold you. He's sketched your body so many fucking times, a hundred, a thousand, a mess of paper and coal, fingers stained for weeks, and then he's brought the drawings close to his heart, closed his arms around it, held it and prayed for sleep, cradled you, shushed you, sang to you, eyes closed, empty rooms. Always alone. Always half-mad.

When his bony arms wrap around a corporeal body this time, when there's flesh under his touch, a rush of blood, a beating pulse—he hugs it tight, God, he hugs it. You. The lifeline, the angel, the sweet thing that wanted to see him again, and again, so long ago now, it seems. For whatever damned reason, somehow, you've deemed him worthy enough to come back for him, and won't you please take him away this time? Won't you end his misery, stop refusing yourself to him?

"Your wound!" You exclaim, but there's no wound for him, no pain in your presence. Only pure euphoria, the brightest kind. He's overwhelmed, intoxicated, harnessed.

He bumps you against chairs, against desks, and smashes lamps, never once leaving you, never once caring for the destruction, the consequence, only wanting to be part of you, skin of your skin, the breath inside your lungs, so that he never has to part from you again. And he cries; he cries hard, ruinously, like a little boy would, and you let him, because he looks like he's travelled through Hell and back, twice over. He's pale, malnourished, injured, and hurting. So visibly hurting, despite his numb reactions to it. If you wonder, or if you know, you never say. You hold him back, because he leaves you no choice. Because there is no other choice.

When the heels of your shoes hit the nightstand, he collapses on his knees, and takes you down with him. He doesn't mean to, you see; to sink so deep, every time, to bring you too, but he can't help it, he doesn't know any other way, any way out. He really just wants out, and could you show him? Could you at least tell him? He's missed you. He's missed you so fucking much.

"I can't do this, Hyunjin. I'm not."

"I wanted to see you," he says quietly, like he's ashamed. In all of the rain and the thunder, this one thing, he whispers it. Like he's afraid to disturb it.

"God, it doesn't matter," you croaked, but you were crying, too. You wept with him, for him. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter..." you repeated, shaking your head against his shoulder, losing oxygen.

He was squeezing the life out of you, he was everywhere. His blood was on your clothes. Make it stop, make it easier, make it last.

"Your song," he pulls back just to stare at your face, to search, to see. "Did you hear it? I wrote it for you."

You nod, and you smile, but it's a sad thing. Your hand caresses his cheek softly; your porcelain boy, trapped in a living body. "I did, rockstar. I did."

The genuine curve of his lips made you hide your face, your tears. You couldn't break. If you broke, it'd be ten times worse for him. But how to be strong, when your heart still beats the same for him? When you've never been a good liar.

"Happy birthday," you sniffle, and wipe at your eyes. "I brought you a gift."

His gingerbread eyes look at you like you've just told him something incredible. You're not sure if you want to know what it is.

"You're the gift," he mumbles, playing with your hair. His touch burns you. You want it as much as you want nothing to do with it.

"Hyunjin..." You reach up, at the desk, and pull your bag down on the floor with you. He watches, angel features in full mode, and you think blonde hair suits him a lot. "I went back to find it. I searched for hours."

It was the key he'd thrown away. His expression shattered at once. You rushed to explain, scared, terrified he's misunderstood—

"I know you don't want it, but I felt so bad about how it ended, that I just... couldn't leave it alone," you pressed your lips together. "So, I put a chain through it. I thought if you were to wear the padlock forever, I should do the same thing with the key. I wanted you to wear it on me."

His fist closed around your open palm, and he smashed you against his chest with one arm, breathing in your sweet scent. He'd never be alone again. That one thought was enough to get him through anything. There would always be someone out there holding a piece that can unlock him, a piece more important than death. I love you. I love you with whatever's left of my heart, and my soul. I'm yours entirely. All he had to do was seek them out, like he'd promised.

His fingers unclasp the necklace, and you hold your hair up and out of the way, exposing that pretty neck he tasted once, a million years ago. The taste on his tongue never faded, he never let it. He swore to himself he wouldn't touch another woman, ever again. He'd do his duty, and suffer silently, as he was meant to.

But seeing the key fall above your breast, it was too much. How would he let you go this time? You'll take everything. Everything.

"The band is going on hiatus," he admitted. "The girl is about to give birth; I bought her a house outside of the city. It's—I'm having a boy." Where the fuck were his cigarettes?

"I bet he'll be beautiful," you comment, putting a finger under his chin to lift his face. "Like you," you smile. "But you need to stop, Hyunjin. You need to stop."

You wait as he looks for his pack, as he brings the lighter close to his mouth, as he inhales, and drops his head again. "You knew?" he asks, embarrassed.

"Not till today." You gently lift one of his arms, the damage on the skin answer enough. "I can't get back together with you, rockstar. But I'll be there, if you need me."

Hyunjin huffs out a laugh, smoke coming out of his nostrils. "I'll always need you, angel."

You grin, bumping your knee against his. "Then I'll always be there."

There they were again. The angel eyes. The ones from your first meeting. They looked straight through you, those. Watercolor eyes. God's eyes.

"You have cursed me, sweetheart. I can't see anything but you." Full circle, with an open ending.

Like his words from before, they cut deep. They made a house in you. You would never separate from him, you think, not ever.

Love tormented, love purple and blue.

#straykidsland #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #skz scenarios #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #kpop scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hyunjin #skz fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hyunlix #mine.

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inchidentally · 4 months

Note

It’s giving engineering student Oscar on the first day of his Motorsport internship!!!!!

(BFBFFBFBFB he's lucky he's so gd beautiful bc he rly said 'let me find the most boring backdrop I possibly ca--ooh is tha empty tarmac? perfect')

dj!escort!Lando is booked at MTC for a gig to unveil their new car and decides to scroll their socials while flying back from Vietnam w Martin. first he sees Oscar posing stiffly in the new odd shirtdress race suit and decides why not zoom in on it. who he at first thought was just some kid turns out to have a beautiful slim waist and mile long legs under the suit. pretty little hands too. oh and the face... is very good. defined jaw and cheekbones, cute nose, pretty brown eyes. the kind of soft hair you want to run your fingers through after sex. the mouth is more intriguing than he'd first thought. pretty pink lips and sort of pouty. would probably turn hot pink after being kissed for an hour. maybe even a blood red after blowing Lando in the-- damn. Lando has to adjust himself and close out the photos.

so maybe he spends the rest of the plane ride ignoring the rest of the guys by going to this Oscar Piastri's accounts. gets absolutely stuck on a picture he'd posted that day with a middle aged emoji and terrible photo composition. but god if the pretty face and mussed soft hair doesn't more than make up for it. he looks like he's had nothing but vanilla sex, safe amounts of alcohol and the only excitement in his life is driving F1 cars. which to be fair looks fucking amazing.

but Oscar deserves to get wild sometimes. deserves to get absolutely wrecked. because from what Lando can tell, the guy almost never takes time off unless its to visit his family Australia. if he's not racing then he's in the simulator or he's in meetings or training. and god, the body he has under those team issued clothes. lean and strong in the arms and legs and waist but surprisingly thick and curvy in the ass and pecs. Lando can picture all that pale skin stretched out on his hotel bed, turning pink wherever Lando's big tan hands grope him. how embarrassed he'd get when Lando squeezes an entire pec in his hands and draws a nipple into his mouth. the cute way he'd flush up and probably throw a hand over his eyes when Lando slung each of the boy's knees over his shoulders and gave him a perineum beard burn he'd feel for days.

Lando startles when one of the road crew knocks over an entire bottle of champagne. by the time he looks back at the awkwardly smiling photo of Oscar out in wherever the hell he was, doing testing or whatever, Lando feels almost ashamed about what he has planned for this nerdy kid who clearly has no idea how hot he is.

but when he finally meets Oscar in person and realizes the boy has at least three inches height on him - most of which seems to run in his legs - Lando gives him a sharktooth grin, a thorough once over that has the boy blushing pink, and ignores everything the weird American dude is saying to him.

#inchreplies #momsforfishsticks #lola alert #my fic #(It's not fic obv but filing it there)#ohhhhhhh you made me do this !!! you can't just send me these things and not expect this !!#my writing

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

Text

Zolu as Taylor Swift lyrics

"All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret." — peace

This is literally Zoro in Thriller Bark willing to die and keeping it a secret from everybody. I want to throw up. They make me mentally ill.

"Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. Change my priorities. The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury. [...] Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending. Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups. Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff. Baby, all at once, this is enough. And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for. King of my heart, body and soul." — King Of My Heart

King Of My Heart is so Zolu coded, not only because of, y'know, Luffy being literally the King of Zoro's heart, but because of the devotion and the feeling that nobody else compares to Luffy. Also, the feeling of young love and possessiveness between them is so good with this song.

"And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all." — Lover

Zoro is in love with the future king of the pirates. Everybody wants Luffy. Of course Zoro is going to be jealous.

"Wherever you stray I follow. I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man. You know that my train could take you home, anywhere else is hollow. [...] Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. Show me the places where the others gave you scars." — willow

The devotion. Zoro willing to follow Luffy to hell. Luffy wanting to know Zoro better, deeper. Knowing every detail about his scars and dreams. I'm going insane.

"And if I'm gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love. [...] Everyone wants him, that was my crime." — Slut!

Ah yes, being possessive and an alcoholic. Zoro's best character traits.

"'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this. You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless." — Fearless

This is very early Zolu but honestly could just be them being silly and Zoro following Luffy's silly and impulsive shenanigans.

"My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon: I was enchanted to meet you... Please don't be in love with someone else... Please don't have somebody waiting on you." — Enchanted

Sabaody angst haunts me at night.

"You made a mess of me. I pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street. [...] Oh my, love is a lie, shit my friends say to get me by. It hits different. It hits different this time." — Hits Different

They're so... The one for each other. Their love hits different. For both of them.

"So you were never a saint, and I've loved in shades of wrong. We learn to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts. But this love is brave and wild. [...] These are the hands of fate, you're my Achilles heel. This is the golden age of something good and right and real." — State of Grace

They're each other's Achilles heel. I'm gonna cry.

"Time, mystical time, cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? [...] Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you." — invisible string

Thinking that they were destined to be together is cheesy af but I don't care <3

"I see how this is gon' go, touch me and you'll never be alone. Island breeze and lights down low. No one has to know. [...] Every lover known in comparison is a failure. I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now. Never be the same now." — ...Ready For It?

Once again saying that they're the one for each other. And also this song is just the vibes. They have these vibes. I don't want to explain it because I got tired of writing this halfway.

"Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night. Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright. Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings." — Paper Rings

They're so clingy so sappy so cheesy I don't care what dudebros think.

"You were so magnetic, it was almost obnoxious. [...] I didn't come here to make friends, we were born to be suburban legends. When you hold me, it holds me together. And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever." — Suburban Legends

Luffy has always been, ever since they met, magnetic to Zoro. And it kind of bothered him at first, but now Luffy has changed his life forever and he will never love somebody else the way he loves Luffy.

"And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other. In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met... [...] 'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine... We would've been timeless." — Timeless

Once again saying that I love thinking they're soulmates. Because they are. Argue with the wall.

"I'm yours to keep, and I'm yours to lose." — So It Goes...

I love codependency.

"But we might just get away with it. Religion's in your lips. Even if it's a false god. We'd still worship. We might just get away with it. The altar is my hips. Even if it's a false god. We'd still worship this love. I know heaven's a thing. I go there when you touch me. Honey hell is when I fight with you." — False God

Zoro worshipping Luffy like a God will never not be extremely romantic and passionate. Luffy also sees their relationship like this, kind of. They're each other's world!!! Going crazy!!!

"Put your lips close to mine as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, 'til the gravity's too much. And I'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands." — Treacherous

This is just them pining over each other and being extremely intimate and willing to do anything the other says. I love exaggerating everything.

"They said the end is coming. Everyone's up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. [...] And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more". To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it." — Sweet Nothing

I honestly always think about Sanuso with this song because it's way more Sanuso coded- HOWEVER!! I do think Zolu has this domestic and genuine energy whenever they're clingy and don't really ask anything from the other except just being together.

"Big reputation, big reputation. You and me, we got big reputations. And you heard about me. I got some big enemies. [...] I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me. And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul. It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold." — End Game

Do I really need to explain this one when everybody knows they're literally dramatic pirates wanted by the law? And they're very very in love?

"All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life. And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch." — Electric Touch

When OPLA!Zoro said that Luffy had changed his life. That changed me.

"We blocked the noise with the sound of 'I need you', and for the first time I had something to lose." — Holy Ground

Once again this is about OPLA!Zoro but obviously works with our regular Zolu. Zoro was so lost without Luffy I'm gonna cry.

"One night he wakes, strange look on his face. Pauses, then says: You're my best friend. And you knew what it was. He is in love." — You Are In Love

This is the perfect way to describe a relationship between aroaspec people. Also, this is giving Sanuso too but this is not a Sanuso post I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so-

"Don't blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right. Lord, save me, my drug is my baby, I'll be usin' for the rest of my life. My name is whatever you decide, and I'm just gonna call you mine." — Don't Blame Me

I don't need to explain this one.

"My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War." — The Great War

I always think about ASL and Marineford with this one but tbh it is very Zolu too.

#i hope y'all like this bc i spent like 2 hours listenting to taylor for this #not that i'm complaininig tho #why are they so dramatic and poetic i am going to die #gay people and their dramatic songs about devotion huh #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #one piece #zoro x luffy #luffy x zoro #taylor swift

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jennycalendar · 5 months

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i am actually genuinely obsessed with amy kissing the doctor and how it's treated by the narrative. i remember being mad at it when i first watched, but now i cannot help but be CHARMED TO PIECES, because it is HILARIOUS. what an absolute train wreck of a girl!!! it's established over and over that she is categorically in love with rory, that when given the choice she will ALWAYS choose rory, that in a world where she has been left by the doctor she's given up on him but never on rory, and yet she is Pulling This Nonsense Shit because she's traumatized and self-sabotaging and has no idea how to cope with a love that is too big for her to understand. she doesn't want to admit that she needs comfort from rory so she flings herself into the comfort of her imaginary friend. she would rather have a fleeting comfort than the real constant love she knows she will have forever, because one of those things is something she knows and one of them is scary as hell.

AND THEN at the end of it all the show canonizes that she did this basically entirely because The Doctor Was Around during a particularly emotionally vulnerable moment of hers. this is essentially amy's sci-fi equivalent of picking up a random childhood friend the night before her wedding, not telling him she's married, going "hey, wanna go on a road trip???" spending three days doing weird shit with him, and then telling him she's about to get married RIGHT BEFORE trying to have sex with him. this is an iconic mess of a move.

#celia watches dw #putting this in the tags. but this is indisputably a jenny calendar move.

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forlorn-crows · 1 year

Note

Sunny/Dew. You can decide the scenario. Just give me the wild chaos twins fucking each other silly.

CHAOS TWINS T4T 69ING BABYYYY

dew is such a mess. im not sorry.

Dew moans around a mouthful of Sunshine’s dick, thighs already quivering where they bracket her face. Sunshine grabs his asscheeks and spreads them roughly, tonguing into the entrance of Dew’s dripping cunt with filthy accuracy. Dew keens with every press of her nails into his skin, every lick against his sex, every pulse of her length against his lips.

"Mm, bet I could make you cum like this,” Sunshine mutters against him. It’s a completely true statement, one Dew would like to vehemently deny despite it all. But he can’t. He’s happy as a clam to be perched on top of her, taken apart by her skillful tongue.

Instead, he begs.

"Oh, Sunny,” he whines against the side of her length. “No, please.” It's a token protest, especially when he clenches around nothing and squeezes another drop of slick onto Sunshine’s lips.

He can feel her smirk. "Why not, baby?" She peppers little kisses to his folds, skirting where he wants it most. Dew digs his toes into the sheets.

"Want you inside—want you to—ah—” He’s cut off as she once again sucks his clit into her hot mouth. She bucks her hips against his face, wordlessly teasing him for dissolving into panting and whining against her cock.

She pulls off with a wet plop. Dew groans into her skin. "But this is much more fun," she purrs, running a manicured finger softly around his entrance.

“Please,” Dew begs again, high and reedy.

“You do look pretty empty,” Sunshine muses. She teases his clit with the pad of her finger before dipping back into his folds, pushing the digit inside his cunt just up to the second knuckle.

Dew moans so light and airy he has to clamp his hand over his mouth at how embarrassingly feminine it sounds.

“I should fuck you with just my fingers if you’re gonna make pretty noises like that. What do you think?” She pushes her finger all the way in and strokes along his slick walls.

“Mm hhmm,” Dew moans through his palm.

“What was that?” Sunshine pushes a second finger in next to the first, the sound of it lewd and wet.

Dew lets his hand fall away, grinding against her hand. “Fuck.”

“That’s it,” she smirks. “Gonna cum on Mommy’s hand, just like this?”

It’s a punch to the gut with a white-hot hand of pleasure, like her words are the ones physically fucking into him. “Oh oh S-Sunny noo,” he whines, hips twitching, seeking friction. Again, it’s a token protest with the heat coiling rapidly in his belly, a string pulled taught by her clever fingers.

“I think you are,” she sing-songs. He’s eagerly and shamelessly doing half the work for her now, thrusting himself onto her fingers. “You still look a bit empty to me though. Think you could take more?”

“More,” he parrots.

“More what?”

“More, please . . . m-mommy.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Her tone is devious, scheming even. Dew barely has time to register it before she’s leaning up to spit on his hole, pulling her drenched fingers from his cunt and sinking one of them into his ass. Dew makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat, immediately clenching around her. His next moan can’t even be properly vocalized either, because she’s sinking the remaining three fingers back into his cunt with the same enthusiasm. And, in the middle of Dew’s wrecked and wordless gasp, she’s sneaking her free hand down to press on his clit.

“Oh fuck oh fucking hell—” is all he can say before he’s spasming against her, orgasm ripping through him like a freight train. And Sunshine, bastard as she is, scissors her fingers just so and presses right above his mound with the other hand, on that spot that makes his brain go immediately offline.

“Sun—ng—uh—” His eyes unfocus and he’s squeezing his thighs against Sunshine’s ears, gasping as he gushes warm liquid over her hands.

“That’s a good boy,” she coos, working him through it. She can’t help the way her cock kicks at the sight, all wet, warm, and throbbing. She runs her fingers through it, over his clit, over his folds, over her own chin, before planting it wetly back on his ass. The moderate force sends Dew flat on his chest against her with a groan, completely boneless.

“Sunnyyy,” he whines, slightly muffled by the meat of Sunshine’s thigh.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warns. “I’m not done with you yet, droplet.”

#cackling evilly #ask #comet #fanfic #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ficlet #ghost fanfic #transfemme sunshine #transmasc dewdrop #sunshine ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #sunshine x dewdrop #dewdrop x sunshine

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tmnt-tychou · 2 years

Text

First Kiss Head Canon (Bayverse)

@thelaundrybitch requested this head canon. I wasn’t sure what to write at first, but then I woke up at 5 AM and this just wrote itself. Enjoy.

Mikey

He has been thinking about kissing you since nearly the first time he met you. But it's something he's kept on the back burner while he gets to know you. He absolutely does not want to put you in the position of him asking for something you don't want/are not ready to give.

He will be the first to ask/initiate, but he's going to make 100% sure you want it. He's going to look for all the signs, watch your body language. When he notices you're always touching him, always moving into his space. When he sees how you watch his mouth, how you bite your lip, because he's mouth-watching, too.

He's eager, but he also wants that really good first kiss, so he may wait for what feels like the right time. If you're the first one to lean in, he will meet you half way and then some. If he's initiating, he will ask first. It will be hesitant at first; he's never done this before. But once he feels you kissing him back, it is go time.

That first kiss is followed by many other kisses. He can't hold back now. It feels like he is trying to steal the breath right from you. You both have to stop so you can get in some oxygen. But you're both giggling breathlessly and touching each others' faces, touching foreheads. It feels right and you both have been wanting to do it for a while. There will be many more make-out sessions to follow.

Raph

If you want to kiss this boy, you are going to have to tell him. He wants to, but he is so afraid of fucking this up. He's never done this before and, if he's honest, he has no idea what to do. If you two wanted to live your lives without ever kissing, he's okay with that. Just so he's not risking you laughing at him or making it so awkward you never want to see him again.

If you want some kisses, you have to go get them yourself. Catch him off guard and give him a quick peck while he's talking. This poor boy's brain is going to explode. He will stop in mid sentence and not move for the longest time. Raph.exe has stopped working. Then he's going to get the biggest, goofiest grin and it's not going to go away for a while. His brothers are going to tease the hell out of him and he doesn't even care. He's too busy floating on cloud nine.

When he takes his turn kissing you for real, that's when it might get a little awkward. He is legit bad at it the first time. Too much mouth, too much tongue. His timing is all off. You hated to do it, but you had to pull away because this was a train wreck.

He's immediately embarrassed even though he had a feeling he was this bad at it. He had warned you. He understands if you don't want to try it again. The two of you don't have to kiss. He will still be content to just be around you, hold you in his arms. That is, if this isn't a deal breaker for you.

Your response floors him. “I guess we're just going to have to practice more.” He's frozen again, but you're climbing on top of him, cupping his face, holding him still. Gently guiding him as you touch your mouth with his, showing him how you want to be kissed.

You two get a LOT of practice in and he is very eager to learn. It isn't too long before the student becomes the master. He turns into a bomb-ass kisser. Like knees-to-jelly, panty-dropping type kisses. Raph is very proud of his newly acquired talents and will use it to his advantage to win arguments or just get you to shut up and make out with him. You've created a monster. But he's your monster.

Donnie

When it comes to you, Donatello has learned that being patient and letting things run their natural course is the way to go. He's tried to control when and how things happen. Tried to plan everything up to the last detail and it never works out. He has to let things happen between you organically.

Communication is the cornerstone to this relationship. He has informed you that if you want something from him, all you have to do is say so and he will make it happen. You tell him you want him to kiss you and he pauses. Then he puts his hands on your shoulders and leans in. The first kiss is a bare whisper of a kiss. It is hesitant and experimental. He doesn't know what he's doing; afraid of doing too much too soon.

Before he can fully pull back, you grab his face and tug him back in for a real kiss. You press your mouth firmly to his. He doesn't react at first, then slowly kisses you back. You two engage in a slow make-out session that's sweet and exploring.

Donnie is never super big on kissing. He is more into nuzzling. He wants to put his face on your skin or in your hair and just breathe you in during the intimate moments. In the rarer times when he pulls you in and starts kissing the hell out of you it's because he's been in the mood and thinking about you all day. Those types of kisses are a prelude to a very long night of him absolutely wrecking you.

Leo

Leonardo is a turtle of two thoughts. One, he is extremely patient and will wait for as long as it takes for you to be ready. Two, he wants—needs—to kiss the absolute life out of you.

He feeds both wolves.

When you give him every indication that you want him to, he is on you. He is cupping your face, pressing his mouth to yours. It's gentle and controlled at first. But then you find out this cold-blooded reptile is one hot-blooded turtle. He is suddenly backing you against the wall, pressing his whole body into you as his kisses turn ardent and needy.

He doesn't stop until your lungs are screaming for air and then he reluctantly pulls away, panting and trying to control himself while he rests his forehead on your shoulder. He had been waiting to do that for a WHILE and you were his catharsis. After he's gotten that out of his system, he's more in control. But a heavy make-out session gets his blood boiling every time.

This man is an absolute fool for kisses. If you inform him you intend to give him many smooches, his brain just goes: asdfkjwlekr. Sit in his lap and slowly kiss his face all over and you will have an absolute happy pile of turtle goo on your hands. All the content churring. He will be useless to his brothers for at least an hour afterwards.

#tmnt #ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #many smooches #request

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grapefacegrfa · 2 years

Note

I just finished lfls and I cried. Could I get some leo x gn reader fluff just some cuddles? something cute. my heart needs happy leo

As someone who is way too scared to read that fic solely because it shatters my heart to see my comfort characters in any sort of negative situation, I'd be more than happy to!

"Cuddles [I, yet again, felt too lazy to think of a better title]"

Scenario: Some high quality cuddles from an even higher quality boyfriend :) [Headcanons]

Pairing: ROTTMNT Leo x GN! Reader (Romantic)

Warning(s): Just some good ol' fluff. Not necessarily direct comfort involved, but if it comforts you, then yeah! :D

☾ At first, Leo was actually too nervous to initiate any physical contact. He was always comfortable enough to give you casual side hugs, but he'd have to hype himself up to hold your hand or anything more than that. notice how i said "at first"

☾ Eventually, Leo becomes much more comfortable with more romantic gestures. If you're comfortable with physical touch, expect this goofball to always be close to you. Even if it's just an arm lazily wrapped around your shoulder, Leo's always touching you in some way.

☾ As far as cuddles go, the overall experience may depend on what kind of day either of you had. However, I can assure you that cuddles with this goober are always lovely (okay, maybe not literally always because it would kind of depend on your definition of "lovely cuddles").

☾ If either of you had a rough day, he'll usually be laying down while facing you with his chin above your head, but he tends to move around and shift every now and then on a good day or if he has trouble sleeping. Leo's comfortable with just about any cuddling position though. Big spoon? Great! Little spoon? Sweet! An absolute train wreck of tangled limbs? Hell yeah!

☾ Although his favorite has to be when you're both facing each other and he can see your lovely face as he's falling asleep and waking up. He's such a mush for you ajfhekdjdndkfh

☾ Facing you may he his favorite, but being the little spoon makes him melt (not that he'd ever admit that out loud). Being in your arms at all really is just absolute heaven for him. Poor boy just needs to be held in general.

☾ Bonus points if you tell him sweet words of affirmation while the two of you are cuddling. Call him your champion even once and he's putty in your hands. Does it feed his ego? Absolutely. Does he need it anyway? Yes.

☾ If you've had a bad day or just aren't feeling well emotionally, this boy treats you like royalty. If you allow him to, he'd carry you to his room himself (he literally had half a fridge on his chin in one of the episodes; holding you is like a bag of grapes) to cuddle. After grabbing some water and some snacks, Leo lays down next to you and wraps one arm around your waist as the other runs through your hair. He'd place soft kisses on the top of your head as he mumbles soft words of encouragement along the lines of: "I know things have been hard, but I'm so proud of you for pushing through it." "I'm so lucky to have you in my life." As well as many gender-specific compliments if you're struggling with gender dsyphoria.

☾ Overall, 9/10, would definitely recommend [totally not being bias]

Man, I'm glad ya gave me this request because I needed it too abdjsodnskfjdjsk

#rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt leo x reader #rise of the tmnt movie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #grapeface written works

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year

Note

Write for Leon Scott Kennedy coward 😳

The End - Leon Scott Kennedy

notes - THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR MAKING MY BRAINROT WORSE! You get a long fic now tee hee. This was so satisfying to write tbh. I loved RE2 and love Leon, so I was very happy to write this <333

word count - 2,756

WARNINGS - blood, SPOILERS FOR RE2, not proofread lolol

Wounds from Lickers, Zombies, spare glass shards, and god only knows what covered your body. You looked like a wreck who was tired and a little dead inside, but it was over. You made it out of that hellhole they called Raccoon City and were now onto a new, and hopefully better life.

"I could really use a shower," Claire laughed, picking a stick out of Sherry's hair.

"Tell me about it." You agreed, wiping what you couldn't tell was dirt or sewage off of your shoulder. You felt disgusting, but you knew that whenever you got to a shower that it was going to be the best shower of all time.

You and Claire were lucky you could still be laughing and smiling after everything that happened. And Leon... well, he had been through hell and back with it being his first day as a cop and all. You felt bad for him. He went through loss after loss and you had no clue what to say.

He was sitting in the corner of the train cart, crying. You wanted more than anything to go cheer him up or something, but how on Earth were you supposed to do that.

Apparently though, Claire saw that you were eyeing the crying cop and nudged your arm with her elbow, signaling that you should probably go talk to him. She and Sherry decided to head to another cart to look around a bit.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the blonde boy, putting your hand on his back. "You were very brave out there," you told him in a soft voice, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He looked up at you a little shocked, tears staining his puffy red eyes. "No way. If anything you were the bravest here. Me and Claire were kinda prepared for anything, but you? You were just living life and got sucked into this shit."

"But I'm okay now. And you're okay! We did great out there!"

Leon just nodded and stared off into space, little tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked.

Leon turned to you again. Seeing him cry was about to make you cry.

"It's my fault she's gone."

"Who? Ada?" You had stuck with Leon his whole mission helping him through stupid puzzles and beating the shit out of psycho dogs. Ada was someone you met on the mission and immediately got a bad vibe from. You knew she wasn't FBI when you met her, you just didn't have the heart to tell Leon. He really seemed to like that girl. And it didn't matter how jealous you were in the little tram where she kissed him.

Leon nodded, tears welling back up in his eyes. "I could've pulled her up if I didn't get so hurt. She's gone now... because of me."

You put your hand on Leon's back. "Leon, look, she was a crazy mercenary, there's a huge, like GIANT chance that she's okay. She probably had a grappling hook in her bra or something."

That actually made Leon laugh a bit, which surprised you. "How's your arm?" You asked, wanting to quickly change the subject.

"Better." He stretched out his arm, which took some work, but he barely winced.

"Good!" You smiled and gave Leon one more check over to make sure he wasn't in any more need for medical attention. "It looks way better!"

"Yeah, well injuries always look better than they feel." Leon chuckled and sat back to be more comfortable. None of you knew where this train was going to lead, but you were just happy to know that you would be out of that awful town.

"You're really strong, you know that?" Leon told you.

You were shocked to hear that if you were being honest, so you turned to Leon with red cheeks. "Where did that come from?"

"I mean, I already explained it earlier, come on! You've been through a lot with me. Thanks for that."

You just nodded, still thinking about Ada. You were never the jealous type, but all of the sudden you were and it was pissing you off. I mean, you couldn't blame all the ladies around you for liking Leon as much as you did because oh my god, he was perfect. He wanted to protect everyone, was kind, empathetic, and cute as fuck. He was everything anyone wanted in a partner and you were just mad that Ada got her hands on him first.

"I can't wait to get some nice clean clothes." Leon sighed, pulling you out of your mind.

"Right?!" Even thinking about the warm embrace of a blanket was making you cozy, but clean clothes? That sounded like heaven right then.

"I found a crap ton of money at the station and that should be enough to get us a couple of hotel rooms and some clean clothes until we find something better." Leon pulled out wads of cash and your jaw dropped. You knew that some of the zombies would have cash on them and you had to admit, you did take some, but you weren't expecting Leon, the cute cuddly rookie, to take any.

"Leon, did you steal that?!"

His face flushed bright red. "I-I.... They.... I just.... We needed it and uh...."

"I'm just playing with you, Kennedy." You playfully slapped his back and he cleared his throat, a little embarrassed.

"Hey guys?" Claire stuck her head back into the cart with a smile. "Sorry if I'm interrupting your flirting, but it looks like we're about to come to a stop. Looks like we're outside of Raccoon City too!"

You laughed at Claire and turned to fine Leon blushing, which made you blush too. "Alright, we'll get prepared."

"You better," Claire winked. "Because clean clothes and a bed sound like heaven itself."

The train came to a halt in an unknown area, but when you got off of the train, the world looked happy again. It was no longer the dead of night and was now early morning, where the air smelled fresh and you could hear birds chirping. It was fantastic and you didn't mind the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. The train took off behind all of you with a loud whoosh and you were now somewhere new, hoping that you wouldn't hear anymore zombies.

"Come on you guys!!!" Claire ran off to a city that was off in the distance, grabbing Sherry's hand. "Let's go!! Are you seriously gonna wait all day?!"

You and Leon looked at each other with a smile and ran after Claire to the city. Stepping in there any other day would probably be hell, with people cussing each other out and pushing each other around, but when all of you stepped in there, it was amazing. There were living breathing humans just doing their every day normal routines. It was like everything was back to normal.

You clung to Leon's arm and smiled. "Leon, can you believe it?"

He was smiling like an idiot before running into some random Target. People were looking at you like you were crazy, while others whispered about hearing what happened in Raccoon City, surprised there were survivors.

You didn't care either way, it's not like you were paying attention. Instead, you just grabbed everything you needed. Water, food, underwear, shoes, socks, clothes, normal everyday items that would be so regular to everyone, but seemed like jewels and riches to you.

You walked up to Leon with a stacked cart and a smile. "I'm about ready to check out!"

Leon looked at your stack with wide eyes. "Damn, you really went ham down those aisles, huh?"

You nodded. "I'm just thankful I had a crap ton in my savings so you don't have to pay for any of it. Thank god they have an ATM here."

"Oh, awesome!" Leon was looking at a few shirts and you pulled one off of it's hanger, handing it to him.

"You would look good in this. I'll meet you outside, okay? Tell Claire the same!"

Waiting outside in a Target parking lot wasn't ideal, but it felt heavenly out, so you weren't mad in the slightest. Honestly, you didn't care at all that you looked pathetic, you were just happy this wasn't Raccoon City.

Claire quickly ran out of the Target with her arm in Sherry's. "Let's go get that hotel room!!!" She quickly darted off and Leon ran out of the Target, limping.

"Dammit, Claire, hold on!!"

You grabbed onto Leon's arm and chuckled. "She's fine, Leon. We'll catch up. She pointed at the hotel she wants to stay in, and it's not too far off. I'm just glad she has the energy to take care of that kid right now."

Leon nodded. "Same. I can barely walk without feeling like I'm going to pass out."

You and Leon walked to the hotel, laughing about the memories you had of Mr. X trying to follow you around. Even though those scared the shit out of you in the moment, you couldn't help but laugh now.

The hotel was nice. It was bright white and covered in fancy red carpets. You looked like a bunch of homeless people.... well, you guessed you were now.

"Me and Sherry are gonna share a room," Claire said, grabbing both sides of the girls shoulders.

"Then I guess that means y/n and I will have separate rooms. I'll go pay."

Your heart dropped and immediate panic filled your body.

"W-Wait." You pulled Leon off to the side, your heart pounding for some reason.

"What's wrong?" Leon looked at you with concern and held your shoulders.

"I... Can we share a room?" You looked up at him and he smiled.

"Of course."

"I just don't know if I can sleep alone after all that and we've already been through so mu-"

Leon placed his index finger on your lips and giggled. "I don't need an excuse from you, y/n. I understand."

You waited eagerly and patiently for Leon to get each of your rooms.

"I'm gonna shower so hard, you don't even understand." Claire said, stretching, each of her bones making a small pop sound.

"Me too." You sighed, imagining the warm water running down your back.

"Here's your key, Claire. Don't lose it."

Claire snorted. "As if. Of course I'm not gonna lose it. Let's go Sherry!" They ran up the stairs, getting odd looks from other patrons and staff, but they didn't seem to care.

"You ready, y/n?"

You nodded, taking the elevator with Leon.

"I'm so glad that's over." He smiled, clicking the elevator button.

"Me too."

"I still can't believe how amazing you were back there." Leon gave you a little pat on the back.

"Well, for it being your first day, Kennedy, I'd say you killed it."

"Literally."

You both burst out into laughter. You were surprised you could still do that, but very happy about it.

"You're amazing, Leon." You set down your target bag on the elevator floor and pulled him into your arms.

He sighed, tickling your neck a bit and held you by your waist. "You're amazing."

The elevator dinged, interrupting your hug, but you couldn't help but bolt out of there and down the long hallways.

"You're going the wrong way, y/n!" Leon called out, pointing down the other end of the hall.

"Which room is it?" Before Leon could answer, you glanced at the key and took off, finding the room rather quickly. You waited like an impatient puppy and bobbed up and down as Leon opened the door.

Leon opened the door to a nice clean room that smelled slightly perfumey, but much better than rotting zombie.

As you were searching the room, you were satisfied with everything. It was cozy, roomy, had a TV, a clean bathroom, and...

"Leon?"

"Yeah?" Leon was already quick to unpack his stuff, and stuffed his mouth with chips.

"There's only one bed."

His face flushed pink. "Y-Yeah... I.... I thought it would be nice." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look.... I don't want to be that far from you, okay? I don't know why. I still feel like I have to protect you and-" You interrupted him by placing your index finger on his lips this time.

"I don't need an excuse, Leon. I really don't mind. Now, I'm gonna take a quick shower. Sorry you gotta stay musty for a little while longer."

"Eh, it's fine. It'll make the shower more worth it."

Worth it was definitely the right words to use. When you stepped into the shower, ignoring the dark red that poured off of you and the black water that formed at your feet, it was really heaven. It was the best shower you had ever taken, and you have never felt so clean in your entire life.

When you stepped out, you immediately tossed out your old clothes and put on something fresh and some pajamas that made you feel cute. It didn't really matter since you were about to pass out soon, but feeling nice was something you enjoyed and something you actually needed after all of that.

You stepped out of the bathroom and chugged some water, not even noticing that Leon had run straight past you to take a shower himself. He really deserved it though, so you didn't blame him.

You laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. What a goddamn day. You really couldn't believe you survived all of that. It was a shit show, and for a while, before you met Leon, you didn't have anything but a metal pipe to beat the zombies off with. If not for that rookie cop, you wouldn't be here right now.

You were more thankful than he could ever know.

"Holy shit," Leon stepped out of the bathroom, drying off his hair with a little towel, in a giant shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. "That was the best shower ever."

You sat up with a smile. "Wasn't it?!"

Leon smiled when he saw you, throwing down the mini towel on a nearby table before jumping on the bed next to you. "You know," he told you, getting comfortable on the bed. "You're actually really cute not covered in blood. Wait, that came out wrong... You were cute with the blood... but uh.... shit, I messed up, can I restart?"

You giggled. "Go ahead. Restart."

"You know," Leon looked at you with the most loving smile ever. "You're really cute."

You blushed. "Says the cutest guy in the world."

"Aw, shucks, you don't mean that, do you?"

"Of course I mean that, Leon."

He smiled at you and pulled you into his arms, laying back with you on the bed. "I'm glad I found you out there." He said softly.

"I'm glad you found me."

You two sat in silence for a while, just laying in each other's arms. After being through all of that, you didn't realize how sore you were and only now was it kicking in. But thank god you had a bed.

Breaking the silence, Leon wrapped his arms around you tighter. "I never want to let you go, y/n." He whispered in your ear, placing a kiss on the lobe.

"But...." You hated yourself for asking this. "What about Ada?"

"What about her?" Leon sat up a bit, letting go of you.

"I.... You two kissed. It seemed like you really liked her."

"Ada kissed me," Leon reminded you. "We weren't that close. I knew you for longer, even if it was a couple of hours. Plus, Ada betrayed us. She was using me. You, y/n, you really care about me. I just want to protect you.... at all costs. If you'll let me."

You cupped Leon's face in your hands and smiled. "Of course I'll let you. But know I want to protect you every now and again."

Leon couldn't help himself, he pushed forward and planted his lips onto yours, pushing you right down on the bed. You quickly smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer until he was right on top of you.

He placed kiss after kiss after kiss onto you until you both passed out, snoring.

You didn't care what was ahead. As long as you had Leon, you would be fine.

~~~~~

resident evil masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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gemini-sensei · 1 year

Text

Hawk Moskowitz x Rebellious!LaRusso!Reader

Chubby!Fem!Reader ○ NSFW included but not too much ○ unedited ○

The moment she sees him, she knows it's a bad idea, but that's exactly what draws Reader to Hawk in the first place. She's at the beach with her friends, he's there with his, a chance encounter by all means because if she happened to be with her sister, they wouldn't have stayed. Cobra Kai left a bad taste in Sam's mouth, but Reader doesn't care as much. It's not as if she knew they were going to be at the beach anyway.

And of course she knows who Hawk is, she was at the All Valley tournament; she watched him fight. While she isn't into the whole karate as a sport thing, she can't deny that watching him excited her. He captivates her in a way no one else has before and he's absolutely intrigued by her. They gravitate toward each other like magnets, and once they touch, they can't seem to stop.

So when he comes over to flirt with her, few words are exchanged before they're making out under the sun. His friends are snickering while hers roll their eyes, but for the most part they are left to their own devices. He pulls her onto his lap and most of the day is spent heavily making out. She gives him her number by the time they're leaving and tells him to call her.

They hang out a lot after that, so long as he's not at the dojo. Dates consist of more making out and a ton of giggling. He teases her about her dad finding out he's a Cobra and she just rolls her eyes, saying her dad can eat it because this is fun. While it's thrilling to bring it up from time to time, it doesn't take up much of their relationships. It's mostly a stupid joke for a while.

Their relationship is undefined some time. She doesn't want to say she has a boyfriend if she can't run around yelling it at the top of her lungs. Essentially she hates the idea of being in a secret relationship, that is until her dad passes her off one day and she storms out of the house. When asked where she thinks she's going, she angrily huffs about going to her boyfriend's house.

"Boyfriend? What boyfriend?" Daniel turns to Amanda and Sam who watched the train wreck. "Did you know about this?"

At the shakes of their heads, he's only pushed further over the edge.

It's then Reader realizes she can push her father's buttons with this. He tries to parent her by being the authority, but she just doesn't listen. He wants her to invite her boyfriend over for dinner, she takes Hawk out for sushi instead. He wants to talk about her boyfriend with her, she gives very short and vague answers. He asks for the boys name and Reader says Eli because she knows her dad only knows him as Hawk at the moment. She has so much fun pushing him to his limits and it amuses her to no end.

Hawk is having fun too. He likes the sneaking around, the thrill of it all. After a while, the wild and heavy make outs are accompanied by actually getting to know each other and deep conversations. He's falling for her so hard in a matter of weeks.

He invites her over one day while his parents are out of the house. They hang out in his basement, just watching TV but soon become so involved with each other that TV is the last thing on their mind. They're just making out and grinding on each other. Their clothes are still on and they're just moaning into one another's mouths hotly. It only ramps up when he starts kissing her neck and he starts dry humping her, causing her to make a lot of noise and get her panties damp. They keep at it until they come in their pants and are panting heavily.

When she gets home, her dad has a conniption fit over the big, dark purple bruise on her neck. She acts like he's over exaggerating but she doesn't actually see it until she's in her room. However, all it does is turn her on and make her want Hawk even more, and want to mark him up too.

Meanwhile, Daniel is fuming and borderline losing his goddamn mind. He starts ranting and raving, raising all Hell the next time he sees his daughter. She just laughs at him and says "it's not like I'm gonna get pregnant," and walks off.

Daniel thinks he's gonna have a heart attack at this point. Poor thing.

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overlydramaticinephile · 2 years

Text

Head over heels in love.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (no physical descriptions)

Summary: Steve goes with Y/N to an admissions college party and things don´t go exactly as they expected. (Yep, keeping it vague bc i suck at summarys)

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Based in the beginning of season 3. Arguments, fluff, and a tiny bit of angst. Steve is one year older than reader. Some curse words. (English is NOT my first language)

A/N: Hi! Tbh I thought I would only write one fic but I got super motivated to do like a whole different scenes from Dawson´s Creek and incorporate it to Stranger Things somehow…so yeah- hope you guys enjoy! <3 thank you so much for reading my other fic too!

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

Steve found himself outside of Hawkins High waiting for his girlfriend to come out so they could hang out, it's been a while since they had their fun, you know, with Y/N worrying about her college applications and Steve working full time at the new mall.

When Y/N didn't show he decided to go inside what could be described by many as the hell hole. Steve was a little nervous, but he had to do something, so, he walked in and started looking for the Y/H/C girl. After what seemed like an eternity of looking and asking around, he saw her going down the stairs by herself and he thought it would be the perfect time to surprise her.

“Steve! what are you doing here?”

Steve moved very quietly to where Y/N was now standing and picked her up from behind causing her to yelp for a moment until she realized what was happening. They both started to giggle in a way that would make lots of people throw up. It was way too adorable.

“Well, Missy, you took a while and I decided to come to look for you”

“Right…sorry, I was looking at the last details for the party on Saturday night.”

Oh, yeah, Steve remembers 'the party'. “Do we have to?” he whined.

“Yes, Steve, we have to,” said Y/N for what felt like the tenth time.

“Well, have you thought about hiring an escort? Because from what I'm told you can't take me anywhere.”

“I called around, but they're all out of socially-presentable man-meat.”

“What if I just broke up with you? What would you do then?”

“Look, do what you have to do. You're still coming with me.”

“Fascist.” Steve sighed.

“Scaredy-cat,” said Y/N with a dramatic shocked voice.

“Are we at least gonna have a good time?” he said hopefully but deep down he knew it wasn't very likely.

“My guess is no.” Why sugarcoat it?

“So why can't we just say “Nay” to the whole idea of hanging out with the prep school contingent, and go over to Dustin's party?”

"Because, Steve, that would severely diminish my chances of getting into college," she said a matter of factly.

"Well, when you put it that way--"

"Stevie?" she started doing that pouty face that melted Steve's heart. Every. Time.

"Yes." he looked down, it was hard to look at that face and stay in check with your initial argument.

"You know how important this party is to me."

"Yes, I know," he said in a whisper-like voice.

"And being in a relationship means that sometimes you have to do things that you don't particularly enjoy for that other person."

"Yeah."

That made Steve finally look up. "Oh, hold on. Do you think that I enjoy those dinners for one second? For the record, we could stop those at any time." his voice becoming more excited.

Y/N decided to continue to prove her point. "You know, for me, that would be Sunday dinners with your parents."

Steve chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I really am. Is it working?"

Y/N could read his intentions. At the end of the day, she knew him better than anyone. "I know you're still trying to get out of this party."

"It's like watching a train wreck." She deadpanned and gave him a kiss on the cheek with a grin on her face.

Later that week

The couple started walking with arms linked to each other. Y/N was wearing a simple black dress that cut at the knee with some sensible black heels. Steve, on the other hand, was wearing a suit, which Y/N haven't seen him in since his graduation day. Let's be real, he looked extremely handsome, with his perfect hair and that smile that could cure disease.

"You know, we can always just turn around. Which would, of course, be incredibly cowardly."

Walking through the stairs you could tell Y/N was nervous by how she kept furrowing her face making her look worried. Steve like always, noticed that.

Y/N breathed out. "Yet sounds incredibly appealing." she let out a nervous laugh.

By this point Steve couldn't take his eyes off her, he felt truly lucky to be able to call her his. Lost in thought he couldn't help but smile.

Y/N looked at Steve with confusion in her eyes, yet his face also made her smile. "You're grinning like an idiot."

"Yeah, I know. I can't help it," he said with such a gentle voice.

"Why?" She was beginning to get nervous. What could he possibly be smiling about right now?

"Because…I'm the only guy at this party who gets to walk in with Audrey Hepburn on his arm." Yep. Steve in love was a total sap. No one can convince us otherwise.

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

"You've certainly been quiet tonight, Miss Y/L/N."

Steve and Y/N sat at the table with Walter, the head figure of admissions. Making Y/N even more nervous if that's even possible.

Y/N chuckled awkwardly. "Just soaking it all in, I guess."

"Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?"

Damn, could this get any worse? "Um...there's really not much to tell. I'm pretty much your average teenage girl," she said with a tender smile that she hoped would hide all her insecurities right now.

By now Y/N was hoping for a miracle that would make things less awkward.

"Having reviewed your application, I hardly think so. I seem to remember a certain fondness for art. Have you been to the Guggenheim?"

"No, but I have always wanted to go to New York..."

"Well, the building itself…It's really the most amazing feat of construction. It's an extraordinary combination of intersecting shapes. It's an architectural epiphany."

Steve could tell how uncomfortable Y/N was, she had this embarrassed look on her face so he thought it wouldn't hurt if he cut in on the conversation.

"Nah, I don't know. You ask me, the thing just looks like a big artichoke."

Y/N turned to him in total shock and so did the other guests. Silence overcame the table until of course Steve kept talking.

"No, I'm serious, it does."

Walter looked intrigued by his comment. "Oh, so you've been?" you could tell it was a genuine question with genuine interest.

"Well, no, but my parents, their big architecture buffs, and they're into those coffee table art books. So, I've seen all the pictures, and I'm here to tell you, it looks like a big artichoke."

After what felt like the most awkward tension they had ever lived, Walter started to laugh, making everyone laugh with him like some type of clockwork.

"Big artichoke. You're right. It does look like an artichoke." he seemed to not be able to control his laughter. Y/N smiled confused and gave a little laugh at the scene.

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

"So, then the Rabbi says, “Rectum? I damn near killed 'em!”

Y/N seemed to not be able to make a profound conversation like she hoped to make the best impression. She just sat there contemplating what she could do to make this better while Steve here was making Walter have a great time with his funny little comments. Y/N knew Steve had always been a social butterfly, he used to be “King Steve” for a reason. But she certainly wasn't expecting him to enjoy this so much after the crap he gave her earlier this week about the event.

Walter kept laughing the entire time. "Good one, right?" said Steve with that smile.

He was nearly choking by how much he was laughing at this point. While Y/N just could help but be a little jealous of Steve's social skills.

"It's very good. Y/N, I had no idea your boyfriend was such a charmer."

She gave a fake smile that only Steve could read. "Who knew?"

Walter got serious for a moment. "Emerson could use a young man like you, Steve. Why haven't you applied?" Well, this got interesting.

Y/N saw this as an opportunity to get some time in the conversation. "Yeah, Steve, why haven't you? She knew the answer, he didn't get into any college yet and his parents were trying to teach him a lesson by making him work his ass off.

Steve got quiet for a moment trying to think of an answer. "Well, I-- To be perfectly honest, uh, both of my parents are real big lefties, so for me, it's Yale or nothing."

"Well, that certainly is our loss." Walter seemed genuinely sad at that answer.

Y/N had enough by now, she didn't understand what the hell was happening right now.

"Hey, Steve, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah sure." he seemed very calm.

"Outside. Excuse us." she faked a smile again.

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

Y/N started to walk as fast as she could, and she looked pissed.

"Steve, I can't believe you just did that."

"Just did what?" he didn't see any problem.

"You lied!" she got more and more desperate by the second.

That's when Steve started to understand where she was going with this.

"Hold on a second--"

"After that whole pseudo-motivational diatribe, you flat out lied."

"Y/N/N, can I have the floor for just a second--" he really wanted to explain what was going on inside.

"Why are you trying so hard to impress these people?"

"Are you done yet?" he deadpanned.

She seemed to not be able to stop saying all her thoughts making it impossible for Steve to explain himself.

"I don't even know who you are right now." she sighed.

"All I'm try-"

"Excuse me, Steve. Excuse me. I would love for you to meet the dean. Do you mind, Y/N?" Walter seemed very excited.

And of course, with their luck, they were interrupted. By Walter of all people.

What was Y/N supposed to even say to that? "Course not." she fake smiled for the third time that night.

"Sure," said Steve, looking at Y/N with an unreadable expression while he turned the other way.

Walter started to chuckle. "He's a great guy. An old friend. I'd love for him to hear the, uh…"

"Two Rabbis."

"Yeah." He laughed.

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

Y/N sat at one of the benches outside and couldn't help but cry. What happened tonight? It clearly didn't go as she wanted, and sadness took over her while she sobbed. She didn't even notice Walter coming back outside.

"Hi, Y/N," he said with an understanding tone.

Shit. Y/N thought. She wiped her tears and acted like he didn't see her crying her eyes out just a second ago. "Uh, hi, Mr. Kubelik, um…I'm sorry, I…I think I need to apologize."

He was confused but calmed. "Really? Whatever for?"

Y/N sighed. "Well, I think I blew it tonight. And it's just, um, this is kind of a whole new world for me, and I, um, I don't really know what to do or what to say, and I know that I don't fit in very well--"

"Y/N, you didn't blow anything. Your academic record stands on its own. You're a stunningly bright young lady. No one is grading you on your social skills.

She looked a little more relieved. Like she could breathe again.

"Be that as it may, you couldn't ask for a better character witness than that boyfriend of yours."

Y/N looked up into his eyes confused and wanting him to elaborate on his last comment.

"Seriously. He just talked the dean's ear off, all about you. How you've changed him, how you've helped him. How he couldn't imagine a better life than one with you by his side. What a rare gift, to have someone say such things about you."

She couldn't help to smile a little and get all shy about it.

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

Finally, the party was over, and Y/N joined Steve after she said her goodbyes to some people at the event. Even though the last time they saw each other they didn't see eye to eye, the moment they looked at each other, they felt the need to be in each other's arms.

"Apology accepted," mumbled Steve.

Y/N removed her head from his shoulder. "I didn't apologize, Stevie," she said while furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Well, no, but you were going to."

Y/N gave him a smug smile. "I was?"

"Yeah, you were going to apologize for bitching me out earlier." he was being pretty forward about the whole situation, you had to give him that.

Y/N started to match his energy. "And what about you? You're the one who lied."

Of course. Steve looked deep into her eyes so she could see his honesty. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was doing that all for you?"

Y/N's eyebrows shoot up. "And how, exactly, do I benefit from your distortion of the truth?"

"Well," he started to stroke her hair very delicately and continued with all he wanted to say earlier.

"Maybe I just wanted these people to see you through my eyes just for one night. To see this girl, this woman, who has more class and intelligence and beauty and grace than anyone else who's walking the face of the planet."

Y/N's eyes started to water; she opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it again when he kept going.

"And maybe things like this just come tumbling out of my mouth because I happen to be head over heels in love with you, but the really scary thing is--is…I think that they're true."

Y/N's heart melted but at the same time, she started to feel guilt and embarrassment because of her reaction earlier.

"Sorry, Steve. I just wanted to impress these people so bad, you know, to fit in, and I completely froze."

Steve cupped her face and with the softest voice, one could ever imagine he said. "Hey, that doesn't matter."

She took a step back from his embrace. Anxiety took over her. "Yes, it does! I've never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. And you--you just fit right in better than I ever will."

So that's what this was about. "Because there's nothing at stake for me here, Y/N/N. I have nothing to prove to these people. And Y/N/N, this world, is opening its doors to you. And when you step through, you are going to be such an amazing part of all of this. And wherever you choose to go, you're doing them the favor, not the other way around.

"You know, your mom should get a medal."

Jeez. Y/N truly was tearing up with a small smile. She would never get used to Steve's love words. It made her heart do flip-flops, to say the least.

Well, Steve wasn't expecting that, but he went along with it. "Mom? Really, why's that?"

"Because she raised the perfect boy. And maybe things like that just tumble out of my mouth because I happen to be head over heels in love with you, but the scary thing is, I think it's true," she said with the biggest smile.

Steve pulled away for a second, staying very close to her."Mmm. What do you say if you and I take our little mutual admiration society on the road? Please, can we go someplace we both fit in?"

They couldn't help but chuckle at each other's words making them have the most passionate yet tender kiss that day.

"Yeah. Let's go."

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things #joe keery x reader #joe keery #fanfic

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sortofanobsession · 1 year

Note

For your presumed dead loving heart: Jaime is a no-show for training and not answering his phone, everyone is annoyed and Roy is pissed, until the police arrive asking help in identifying a body. Roy and Ted go and it's this whole ordeal thinking Jaime's dead, and being relieved it's not him. Meanwhile Jaime is alive but sunderground on the tubes with no service. When he finally gets to Richmond everyone is beside themselves, he's confused, Roy promptly grabs him and kisses him, chaos ensues.

A/N you guys love putting these guys through hell, don't you? And I am here for it! Love the drama. Love it all. Keep em coming! This one is a little shorter than most of the others but it's not the only one I plan to finish today. So, might have another post today. Not sure. Stay tuned.

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Word count: 3k+

Paring: Roy/Jamie, Jamie & AFC Richmond Himbos (platonic)

Content Warning: car wreck, police detectives, death (some random dude), grief and loss, angst (happy ending), fear, mentions being sick/vomiting. Swearing, lots of swearing

A Very Bad Day for AFC Richmond Off Pitch

"This is not like Jamie," Dani says, his tone filled with concern.

"Well, not the newer Jamie, old Jamie maybe," Isaac says.

"But that Jamie is long gone. Our Jamie never misses," Dani Insists.

"And he usually tells someone. Did he train with Coach this morning?" Sam asks.

"I guess, but had to bail early. Said he had something to do before training," Colin states. He'd already asked. Now the coaches were sequestered in the office with the door closed. And that did not sit well with any of them.

"Coach Kent seems very angry," Jan states what they can all clearly see through the window. "He thinks Jamie is going back to old Jamie."

"Can you read lips?" The others ask.

"Helps learn languages faster. It unites verbal and vocal cues to memory faster," Jan says.

"Huh, what are they saying now?"

"That Jamie is still not picking up, and Keeley, I assume it is Keeley-" Jan says.

"Keeley, yes, he said it again," Richard agrees.

"Right, that she has not heard from him. And then Ted said that they can't just assume something then he looked away."

"Maybe they mean-" Richard goes to say but is cut off as a nervous-looking Higgins leads two men none of them knew into the locker room. Higgins hurries to knock on the gaffer's door. Then everyone silently waits. They can't hear what is said, but Roy goes silent and it looked like his anger drained right out with him as fast as the blood seemed to drain from Ted's face.

"Gatver," Jan curses. Richard unleashes a litany of curses in multiple languages. Dani goes pale.

"What?" Colin asks. "What happened? Who are they."

"Detectives," Jan says.

"Like Scotland Yard? Did they say metro or-" Colin is cut off when the office door opens and Ted and Roy leave.

Coach Beard looks at the team.

"What's going on, Coach?" Sam asks, hoping his friends were wrong. "Is it about Jamie?"

"We're those really detectives?" Isaac asks.

"Is Jamie okay?" Colin asks.

All three questions were asked at the same time. Beard holds his hands up. They go silent.

"First, yes they were detectives. Second, They don't know for sure yet but-" Everyone starts talking at once, and Beard looks at Higgins.

"Shut it!" Isaac shouts. "Let them finish." Beard nods at Isaac.

"It may or may not be about Jamie," Higgins says.

"How do they not know?"

"Because the car they found belonged to Jamie Tartt, but they couldn't ID the…" Higgins looks pained as he struggles to say it.

"They couldn't identify the driver," Beard says. His arms crossed over his chest.

"Was there an accident?" Sam asks, now very worried for his friend.

"If they couldn't identify him, then he is either dead or close to it," Jan states. Dani does the sign of the cross and mutters a prayer.

"The driver did not survive," Higgins finally says.

The room erupts into chaos.

"BUT IT COULD STILL BE SOMEONE ELSE!" Beard shouts. The team goes quiet again.

"Jamie has a very recognizable face," Dani says. "How do they not know? It is Jamie, or it isn't Jamie. Cannot be both."

"Roy said Jamie mentioned taking his car somewhere. That it had an issue. We don't know anything yet," Beard explains. "You boys can go home if you want. Training is-"

"We're not going nowhere, til we find out if Jamie is okay, right?" Isaac says, looking at the others who all adamantly agree.

"Well, then get comfy, might be a long wait."

"I should inform, Rebecca-Ms. Welton," Higgins says. And Beard nods as he goes back into his office in case someone calls.

"This cannot be happening," Dani says.

"Let's hope it isn't," Isaac says. "That is some sorta mix-up."

It goes quiet. No one is sure what to say, and everything feels wrong.

Roy doesn't even look at the team as he goes into the office and sits at his desk. Ted goes in and says something no one can make out to Beard before going back out to the oddly silent team. All of them just waiting for him to say something.

"Wasn't Jamie," Ted says. Shockingly direct and blunt for the usually verbose gaffer but the relief is palpable in the room. But everyone goes quiet again when Ted still doesn't look happy.

"Then what's wrong?" Sam asks. "Where is Jamie?"

"We still have not been able to track him down, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. He could just have a broken or dead phone. It is possible that there was a family emergency, or he got called away for something and didn't have time to let anyone know. We don't know anything except that someone had Jamie's car."

"Do they think someone took it from him, like violently?" Colin asks. He was too good at coming up with worst-case scenarios.

"No way of knowing yet," Ted says.

"So what? We just wait here until they tell us if Jamie is even alive?"

"Assuming they can find him," Bumbercatch says.

"Not the most positive of possibilities,” Ted says. “But we can only hope for a positive outcome."

"What does Roy think?" Colin asks.

"He hasn't said much other than that was definitely not Jamie," Ted answers honestly. "And I don't suggest asking him too much."

"Why not? He spends the most time with him," Jan says. Roy gets up and goes to the hall, slamming the door as he does. They all wince.

"Oh, I see," Jan says.

"He is taking this rather hard, it seems," Ted says.

It is quiet for a moment before Ted excuses himself to go talk to Rebecca and Higgins. And Roy, if he hasn't gone far, but Roy was already gone. So, he headed upstairs.

Roy let himself into Jamie's flat with a spare. He had told Jamie he needed to hide better, but Jamie had clearly failed to move the key. It was amazing no one had broken into his flat and- Roy was suddenly very concerned about what he might find inside. He called out for Jamie and was met with silence. Dread pooled in Roy's gut as he closes the door and made his way into Jamie's home. He looked around the floor before going upstairs and checking the first floor. Nothing. No Jamie. No sign anything was wrong. Absolutely nothing. Roy sat down on the edge of Jamie's bed and tried to think about every detail from their early morning training session. Jamie had seemed fine. He was his usual determined and annoyingly chatty self. He didn't seem worked up about anything other than his car having a light out or something. He was annoyed that he had to actually do something about it but not angry or even worried. It was eating Roy up that he hadn't stayed to find out more. Or offer to go wherever Jamie had to go with him. Fuck, why did it feel like he should have never left? Jamie is a grown-ass man. He didn't need Roy to hold his damn hand for everything.

"You sound broken," Keeley says when Roy finishes telling her what he knew.

"Fuck!" Roy shouts to the empty bedroom. He decided to keep the key and headed back to his car after locking up. The last thing he needed was for Jamie to come home to find his electronics missing or some shit. Roy ignores the tiny voice in the back of his mind that points out Jamie might never come home again. Might never do anything again. And it makes his knuckles go white as he grips his steering wheel and his breakfast threatening to make a reappearance for the second time that day. The first was right before they pulled the sheet back at the morgue. That moment when he thought he might actually have had to look at the cold and lifeless body of Jamie Tartt in the morgue. And fuck, that had nearly destroyed Roy. He had a moment of absolute relief when it was obvious that the body wasn't Jamie's. The face might not have been recognizable, but Roy had just seen Jamie. He knew Jamie's tattoos, and those were different. He knew Jamie's ring. Even his stupid fucking earrings. And the body had none of them. They hadn't taken any of them from the body. Roy actually knew a lot more of Jamie than he even realized he did. He could close his eyes and see the man in vivid detail. For better or for worse, Roy knew Jamie better than most people did. They spent hours talking about mundane shit during early morning runs and training. They even had breakfast on occasion. And Roy had enjoyed every fucking second of his time with Jamie. He drove back to Nelson Road, but before he got out of his car, he called Keeley to update her.

"Fucking feel broken," he admits.

"Is it because you care for Jamie more than you actually want to admit, or is it because you finally did admit it, and now you are scared you won't be able to do anything about it?"

"The second one," Roy says. "Fuck, Keeley, if something's happened and he-"

"You are going to work yourself into a mess with what-ifs, and when he does come home, you're going to make him worry or, worse, feel guilty. So just breathe and go be with the others. Call me if you hear anything, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Keeley," he says before hanging up. He takes a few deep breaths and goes inside. He waves off anyone that tries to ask how he is. He tells them he went by Jamie's flat, and he wasn't there, and nothing seemed off. Everyone just settles in to wait for some kind of answer.

Jamie rushes through the door, verbally apologizing for being late, but the train was late. When he notices that it is eerily silent despite the locker room being what had seemed like it's usually chaos when he came in. He looks up. And the room feels fucking off. Dani looks like he has been crying for who knows how long. Colin looks like he's seen a fucking ghost. Sam looks absolutely shook.

"Who fucking died?" Jamie means it as a dark joke, but when Colin's gaze snaps to Isaac like he expected their captain to explain. Jamie realizes it might not be a joke. "Wait, what-" but he is cut off by a body hitting his. And it knocks him breathless for a second. When he inhales, he gets hit with the overwhelming scent of Roy fucking Kent, and Jamie's brain might have to reboot because when he looks at Roy's face. The man looks fucking shattered, and Jamie is about to ask what was going on when Roy's lips are on his. Jamie swears Roy's hands shake as they grip the sides of Jamie's face. The striker drops the bag he was still holding so he can grip Roy's sides. He has no idea what is going on, but if Roy is kissing him, then he sure as shit isn't going to miss the opportunity to kiss Roy fucking Kent. 17-year-old him would have fucking lost his shit if he could see this.

"Not that I'm complainin'," Jamie says once he gets air back in his lungs. "But what the fuck was that for?"

"Where the fuck have you been? And where the fuck is your phone?" Roy asks.

Jamie's brow furrows despite the fact Roy still has a grip on his face. "Phones in me bag," Jamie says. "Some prick smashed me tail light. Told ya earlier had to drop it round the shop. Fuckin day for it. Seems the tube system is fucked today. Took fucking ages, and there's never any service down there, or I'd have let you know I'd be late. Shoulda got a loner. Ya gonna tell me going on? What happened?"

"They said you was fucking dead, bruv," Isaac answers him. Roy fucking tenses but doesn't pull away. “Then you weren’t, but still could be.”

Jamie is pretty sure Roy is not a PDA guy, but if what Isaac said is true, Roy's reaction made a bit more sense now, but still, what the fuck?

"What? Who?" Jamie asks and shifts to actually hug Roy, like an actual comforting hug. The right move based on the fact Roy moves one hand to the back of his neck, and the other goes around his shoulder.

"A detective dropped by and asked us to come identify a body," Ted answers. "Was a tense ride to the police station. I can tell you that much. Thought ol' Roy was going to pass out or throw up. And not cuz of the dead body. Obviously, wasn't you, since you're here. But whooey were we glad it wasn't you. I'm sorry for whoever it was and hope their family will be alright, but never been so glad NOT to see one of you fellas."

"Fuckin hell," Jamie mutters. "Ehhhh…can you guys…umm."

"Right!” Ted claps. “Now that our boy is here, time to train."

The team grumbles, but they go. Once everyone is gone. Jamie focused on Roy.

"I'm fine, Roy," Jamie says. Not coach, boss, or some joke about his age. He says his name. And that has something twisting in Roy's stomach. Good or bad, he doesn't know. "Really, I swear."

"Fuck," is the first thing Roy manages to articulate, and that earns a nervous laugh from Jamie.

"Yeah," Jamie grins because he can feel Roy start to relax. "Makes a lot more sense why I had like a hundred messages and voicemails. I just thought you all were just mad I was late. Not like late for me next birthday, kinda late." Jamie winces at his own dark humor joke. It earns a grunt from Roy, and he finally pulls away to actually look at Jamie.

"You have the worst fucking humor," Roy states.

"Yeah, that one’s a bit dark, innit?" Jamie laughs. "Probably not me best timed one either."

"Fuck no," Roy grunts.

"But a bad joke is still a joke, and can't tell many of those if 'm dead."

Roy nods in agreement.

"You right enough that I can get me kit on? Or do you need another hug?" Jamie genuinely asks. He's not about to rush anything, even if it is just letting Roy process the fact Jamie is very much still alive. Roy seems to weigh his options. He studies Jamie before pulling him in for another kiss. Jamie gives him exactly what he wanted. Once they pull apart again, Roy tells him to hurry the fuck up and get out on the pitch. Jamie just laughs.

He is lacing up his boots when his phone rings, and he answers it.

"Fucking hell, Jamie. Are you alright?" Keeley asks. She seems almost as stressed as the team was, and Jamie realizes someone must have called her trying to find him.

"I'm fine, still very much alive and late for training," he tells her.

"Roy was losing his fucking mind," Keeley says.

"I know, he…well, I'll tell you later. If I don't get out there, the whole damn team might come looking for me. I promise I will tell you the full story."

"After training," she says.

"Right, after training," he agrees.

"I'll hold you to it," Keeley says. "Oh, and I'm sorry about your car, but you can always get a new one."

"Wait, what about me car?" he asks as he finishes lacing his boots.

"Uhh, ask Roy. He can give you the details. And help you pick a new one," she says.

"Right, okay. Gotta go, yeah?"

"Text me later, babe. Now go on."

Jamie grins as he hangs up and heads to the tunnel.

Roy looks over at him as he reaches the pitch.

"You good? Took you a while," Roy looks him over, but he looks fine.

"Keeley called," Jamie states.

"That would do it," Roy nods.

"She mentioned something," Jamie says. Roy is suddenly very concerned that Keeley said something Roy hadn't had the nerve to say out loud but was pretty sure Jamie had figured out based on the fact Roy had nearly knocked him over and kissed him. Fuck that was- his thoughts are cut off when Jamie speaks.

"What happened to me car?" Jamie asks, and Roy grunts.

"Totaled. Some prick took it for a joyride and got themselves killed."

"Fuck,” Jamie says. His car was just a car, but yeah he can see why the police and shit got involved. “And you guys thought it was me?"

"Until Ted and I told them that the dead guy was not you."

"You had to…fuck, Roy. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, well, better us than your mum having to drive four hours to do it."

"Don't even joke. That would kill her," Jamie grimaces.

"Wasn't exactly a fun time for us either. But I knew it wasn't you," Roy says.

"How?" Jamie is actually curious.

"Because I know you, Jamie. I know you better than I do most people. And I know that for a reason."

"Oh yeah? What is that?"

"Because someone has to make sure you do shit, like move your damn spare key," Roy says, holding up the spare key to Jamie's flat. "I told you to do that weeks ago. It was way too obvious. And you are too famous to be that-"

"Stupid?" Jamie offers up, eyeing the key.

"Reckless," Roy finishes. "Fucking hell, Jamie."

"Just keep it, then I won't have to hide one," Jamie shrugs.

"Are you serious?" Roy asks, absolutely shocked.

"I mean, you show up at my house like every morning before dawn. Might as well make it easier on both of us and keep it. Besides, I have a feeling you'll be using a lot more now that-" Jamie is cut off by Roy kissing him. They get catcalls and wolf whistles from the players on the pitch. Jamie blushes and ducks his head when they pull apart. Roy just flips everyone off and tells them to fuck off and take a lap. They laugh until they realize he wasn't joking. Jamie joins them. After the lap, there is a lot of hugging, especially between Jamie, Dani, and Sam, before training actually starts in earnest. Jamie may need a new car, but he is sure as hell glad he has his coaches and his friends, especially Roy. Roy was easily becoming a bit of everything. His coach, his friend, and now something more. Yeah, Jamie could live with needing a new car for this outcome. He can live with that.

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minisugakoobies · 2 years

Text

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter 6

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: mentions of weapons - blades, mentions of blood/bleeding, stabbing, explosions, fighting (hand-to-hand combat), flesh-eating bacteria, a plane nearly crashes, switching POVs, kissing, grinding, Vitality gives in to temptation, Yoongi and Hobi give in to their instincts

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: We're upping the ante with the battles this chapter! The lines are really starting to blur for our superhero and villains alike.

The chapter title comes from OK Go's Here It Goes Again:

I guess there's gotta be a break in the monotony But Jesus, when it rains, how it pours

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don't be a silent reader! 🥺 My inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter Five ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Chapter Seven

Chapter Six: Jesus, When It Rains, How It Pours

As far as weeks go, you’ve had better.

Monday started off with a bang when half of midtown was ravaged by a gila monster the size of a jumbo jet that escaped from some mad scientist’s lab after getting into some horrifically effective secret growth serum. Tuesday you took down an entire team of disgruntled ex-military men threatening to blow up the city if the officials didn’t meet their demands for, uh, actually, you never asked what they wanted, you just defeated them before they could do anything other than terrorize a whole building full of innocent hostages.

Wednesday was nothing but meetings and team building exercises - honestly, worse than the giant lizard and the mercenaries combined.

And here it is Thursday, and you’re once again fighting Yoongi. He’s really been on one lately, and you’re getting a little sick and tired of seeing his face. Especially when he won’t stop throwing those fucking blades at you and ruining your plans to spend the day relaxing for once. Well, relaxing as much as you can for a superhero busy constantly saving the world. So, like, eating banana Choco Pies and maybe binging a few episodes of All of Us Are Dead in between training sessions.

“Heads up, pretty bird!” Yoongi grins as another dagger hurtles through the air. You spin, avoiding the sharp projectile, and aim a high kick at his head. He manages to duck, dropping to his knees. Two more daggers slip from his sleeves and he chucks them as he laughs gleefully.

His plan is going fairly smoothly today. It was so easy for him and Taehyung to break into the high containment lab where the government’s Disease Control department stores the deadliest pathogens on the planet under lock and key. Even easier to incite hysteria when he threatened to release a vial of flesh-eating bacteria into the water supply. He so loves to watch leaders scramble about like helpless ants, just waiting to be squished under his big black boots.

Not to mention how much he enjoys the thrill of causing a total meltdown amongst the public at large. It’s too easy to manipulate people. They’re so dumb and panicky.

How he loathes them.

But as much as he’d love to actually release some of these vicious viruses, he’s really only here because he knew you’d come. And now he has you trapped in an enclosed space, surrounded by vials filled with instant death, making it impossible for you to use your powers. You can’t exactly blast him to hell if it means you might accidentally smash some of these tubes and release the doom stored inside. Especially since he and Taehyung destroyed all of the room’s defenses meant to keep any breaches safely enclosed within.

“You won’t get away with this!” you hiss as you knock one of his daggers out of midair with a well-timed kick.

“Are you sure about that? Seems like you’re fighting with clipped wings, pretty bird,” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Careful! Wouldn’t want to let any of these icky germs get out, now would we?”

Lunging forward, you tackle him to the ground, pinning his arms down so he can’t release any more blades. You still don’t understand where the fuck they all come from - is he conjuring them out of thin air? Or does he have a whole bunch of them strapped to his body at all times? Is his pale skin just a collection of scars under his pinstripe suit?

“What exactly is your plan here? Release the bacteria, and then what? What do you want?”

What does he want? You, writhing underneath him, begging for mercy. It’s all he desires.

“I want chaos. I want to bring the world crashing down around us, until the streets run red and only the strongest survive. This world needs culling, and I am the reaper!” His eyes flash as he rants, fidgeting, trying to rock you off of him as you straddle his chest, keeping his hands pressed against his sides.

“You’re the reaper? No, you’re a disease, and I am the cure!” you snarl, fist curled, winding up to deliver a knockout punch.

Yoongi cackles wildly. “You’re the cure? Be honest–did you just come up with that, or did you rehearse that before you got here?”

Well, not that he needs to know, but yeah, you’d rehearsed that since the moment you left headquarters. As soon as you realized you were headed to the infectious disease vault, you knew exactly what you wanted to say for your finishing quip. Stupid fucking superhero banter.

“Fuck you!” A little more pithy than witty, but it’ll get the job done. Just as you’re about to smack him six ways from Sunday, there’s a stabbing pain in your shoulder. With a wounded shriek, you reach behind you and remove a dagger, point dripping with your blood.

Taehyung stands in the doorway of the vault. Goddamn it, you forgot all about the sidekick. All the supervillains you fight always have a loyal lackey just waiting to step in and prove their mettle. Yoongi must’ve trained him to handle his blades.

His presence distracts you long enough for Yoongi to wiggle his arms free, throwing you off of him. Yoongi reaches for the dagger but you manage to keep a strong grip on it, and the two of you begin to wrestle, limbs tangling as Taehyung suddenly shouts.

“Hyung! Look out!” A vial sitting dangerously close to the edge of the counter suddenly topples onto its side, glass shattering. “Don’t let it hit your skin!”

It’s the flesh-eating bacteria. Your tussling with Yoongi has brought you right next to the counter, and your back slams into the solid cabinet doors. Time seems to slow to a crawl, every second stretching to an eternity. You glance at Yoongi before you look up, staring in dread as the contents of the tube begin to drip towards your face–

THOCK

A burst of wind ripples past your head and suddenly there’s a dagger sticking out of the wood, directly between your face and the oozing strain, catching every drop that dribbles down. Startled, you whip your head around to gawk at Yoongi. He’s frozen, arm still raised, a fierce look on his face.

“Don’t just sit there, fucking move,” he growls, and you snap to, quickly jumping away from the counter as the lethal microbes run down the blade and trickle onto the floor where you had been a mere millisecond before. You lie on your side, panting, bewildered. Why the fuck did Yoongi do that?

Yoongi’s stunned. Why the fuck did he do that? You were this close to becoming a bacteria buffet. If he hadn’t saved you, you’d be dead. He hadn’t even thought about it, just reacted on instinct, tossing a blade to protect you.

Fucking hell, once again he really needs a minute to think. But now isn’t the time for any self-reflection, not with sirens blaring and Taehyung screeching in his ear that they need to leave before you shake off your shock and capture them both. He allows his confidant to pull him to his feet, and then he’s running, as fast as he can, away from the lab, away from the building, away from you and the expression on your face of total confusion - mixed with the one emotion he hates above all.

Hope.

Hobi’s made a slight miscalculation.

This thought occurs to him as he stumbles out of the cockpit of the jet, which is gradually diving towards the ground.

See, his brilliant plan this week was to trap you on a jet skimming the upper bounds of the atmosphere and force you to fight him without your powers. After all, it’s an enclosed space about 6,000 miles above the ground. Since you can’t fly, why would you put yourself at risk by tearing a hole through the cabin or blasting one of the engines into smithereens?

The thing is, no matter how many times he had Jin sift through the scenarios and crunch the data, he completely forgot to take one factor into consideration: you’re kind of a compulsive idiot.

“The controls are completely shot,” He hisses as he stalks across the cabin to where you’re standing, staring at your own hands. “As you in fucking shot them with that last blast!”

“I didn’t fucking mean to! Obviously!” you shout, snapping out of your shock. You’d been trying, really trying not to give in to the urge to just blow this asshole out of the sky, but he wouldn’t stop throwing punches and you just wanted to stun him, wind him enough to knock him down and pin him, except you forgot how fucking slick he is, how he moves like water when he fights, lithe body bending in ways you couldn’t even dream to, and with one smooth side step he’d avoided your blast.

And now there’s a giant hole in the instrument panel and you’re going to die.

Hobi should’ve prepared for this eventuality. He should’ve packed at least one parachute.

Add it to the list of things he’ll go to his grave lamenting.

“So what do we do now?” you ask, spinning around the empty cabin of the plane, looking for something that might help. Not that you have a fucking clue what would help. This isn’t a situation they’d trained you for when you’d started with the company. It was always assumed that if there were an air battle, one of the flying heroes would handle it.

“We fucking die,” Hobi hisses. For once, he wishes he had Jin in his ear to tell him everything will be alright. But his communications are on the fritz thanks to the gaping maw that used to be the front of the jet. “Unless one of your stupid coworkers is about to swoop in here and save us?”

One minute, you were on your way to a charity event, dressed to kill in your bright red strapless sequined gown, slit cut halfway to heaven up your right thigh, most decidedly not wearing the headpiece from your uniform despite your PR rep’s insistence because you think it’s tacky as fuck (and besides, it clashed with your dress something horrible), when your driver suddenly keeled over, blood spurting from his mouth, and the car went off the road. Before you could free yourself from the wreckage, you felt that invisible pulsing again, and everything went black.

Now, as the train of your dress trails behind you, tattered from your fight, you wish you’d worn that stupid ugly-ass headpiece after all. Damn you and your fucking pride. There’s a locator beacon in the headpiece, which would really be handy right about now. You know Doc will track you eventually, but you’re not feeling very hopeful that he can do so before you become a superhero pancake.

“Save us?” you sputter, spinning around the empty cabin. “Who is this “us?” If anyone were to get saved, it would just be me, you fucknut! No one is coming to save you!” Whirling again, you aim a high kick at his head, scowling as he ducks. You chase him down the aisle, angrily tossing punches left and right, your throws getting sloppier the more irate you grow. “And you probably had that fucking radar-evading tech on again, just like you did in Argentina, right?? So no one knows I’m here and no one is going to find me until they dig my body out of the rubble!”

Hobi catches your clumsy right cross and yanks you towards him, intending to restrain you, but the plane suddenly dips further and he ends up flat on his back, tugging you on top of him.

You huff furiously as your nose brushes his. From this close, his eyes are molten lava, burning into yours. His skin scorches you where it touches you, as though his entire body blazes with heat beneath you.

Hobi is out of ideas. Out of brilliant plans, out of in-the-nick-of-time maneuvers. He knows his henchmen won’t get to him fast enough, no matter how swift his jets might be. So, for the first time in a very, very long time, he lets the panic take over. He stops thinking, and moves on instinct.

Wrapping a strong hand around the back of your head, he pulls you down, crushing your mouth onto his.

There’s brief shock on your end, before the impending doom of your current situation floods your brain, sweeping all rational thought away in its wake, and you thread your fingers through his dark hair, cradling his head as you kiss him fiercely. You’re about to fucking die–why not live a little first? Go down happy. Or at the very least, anything but scared.

Of course his lips would be so plush. Of course his tongue would taste like sugar. Why would his kiss be any less irresistible than the energy flowing through him? Because it’s calling to you, again. Like a sweet siren song, an inviting melody only you can hear.

This time, there’s no reason not to give in.

As Hobi licks into your mouth, blindly needing to feel something, anything else right now, other than fear, and finding himself quite surprised that he is, you curl your fingers into his dark shirt and feed, pulling his energy into you.

Hobi’s eyes go wide at the first tug. What is happening to him? It feels like something surging through him. His eyes roll shut in ecstasy. Holy shit, whatever it is, it’s fucking amazing.

You groan into his mouth, overwhelmed by the pulsating sensation of Hobi’s energy entering you. God, is this what it’s like to feed from a human? Jesus, why did you wait until death’s door to try it? You settle against him, thighs straddling his, and your eyes fly open (when did they close??) as you realize he’s hard as a rock between your legs. Is it from the kiss? From the fighting? Or could draining him of his energy feel as good for him as it feels for you?

The force building inside you is so intense, stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before - even more powerful than that nuclear warhead you’d disarmed one time by draining it dry. It’s extraordinary, how fucking good it feels, how fucking good Hobi feels, and as the sensation overwhelms you, you break the kiss, arching your back and letting go, releasing all that rippling energy in one big blast.

The jet explodes around you, disintegrating into nothing.

Hobi’s eyes widen in shock as you destroy the plane. Acting on instinct, he wraps his arms around you as you hurtle towards the earth in a freefall. He tucks your head into his neck, as if to protect you.

Or maybe just to hold you close during the last few seconds of your lives.

That’s when a strong hand suddenly grasps and yanks him out of midair.

“Shit, Vi, what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?” an irate voice demands, and then Hobi blinks and he’s zooming through the air as your flying teammate holds you both tightly and zips you towards the ground below.

As soon as you’re standing on solid earth, your teammate throws Hobi down, pinning him to the soil. You drop to your knees, thankful to be on the ground again, breathing deeply as your heart continues to hammer frantically. Your teammate starts ranting about your “little stunt” fucking up his day off (as if you kidnapped yourself!). But you don’t respond, glancing at where Hobi, who lies with his hands cuffed behind his back, peers up at you. His dark eyes are turbulent, unsettled oceans churning wildly, and you know your own gaze matches his.

Neither of you speak, and before long, he’s being whisked away by the containment team and you’re alone, staring at the dirt under your knees, marveling at how you survived but still feel completely wrecked.

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haruhar-u · 7 months

Text

the first chapter of that book thing I’m talking about

CWS for this chapter: None

CWS for the series:

Series summary:

Falling From The Stars is about the band Ametrine’s rise to fame and their fall from it.

A/N: wrote this in February so the writing style will be slightly different

Beta read and edited

That’ll be 12.50.” An obviously overworked woman who looked like she worked multiple jobs by the look of her eye bags says from behind the counter.

I rummage in my jeans pocket, pen cap without a pen, crusty pennies, old candy wrappers, then finally crinkled 20 dollars bill. I must’ve looked like a disorganized train wreck to any passerby. Luka you’re 22 put yourself together. You probably look like a fucking train wreck. I put the 20 dollar bill onto the counter and the overworked woman hands me the food I ordered.

“Uhm keep the change.” I say just loud enough for her to hear. This was my friend’s dad’s restaurant, I want to help out somehow.

The food felt warm in my hands as I walked through the busy streets of Manhattan. There was a mix of tired locals and overly excited tourists. Then I drove about 5 minutes back to my apartment to give my fiancé the food I brought.

He’s so studious that he barely takes care of himself enough. I went up, opened the door and threw the leather pouch I carry to the side.

“Oh hey Luka.” Rui glances up from his work, eye bags quite noticeable (probably his pharmacist school stuff) then looked back down and continued working. I lean over him to take a look at what he was studying, his jet black red streaked hair was greasier than ever. Do you even wash it anymore?. He had recently overworked himself to the point where he caught a cold. He still wasn’t fully recovered, I could tell from him sniffling and the amount of tissues he had surrounding him. It was exhausting looking after him then to say the least as he would never stay in bed without study material for more than 5 minutes.

I put what I had brought him on the table. “I think you should take a break and eat, plus you’re still sick aren’t you?”

“I’m fine, I swear, thanks for the food I guess.” He doesn’t even look up. His voice sounded deeper which usually is a tell tale sign to attempt to convince him to go to bed early tonight.

“Explain the tissues.”

“I just still have a runny nose.”

I nod, I guess I believe him, his explanation lines up with the timeline. I just hope he learns that A grades aren’t everything, because they aren’t. My friend Tian basically lives by that saying. I think should point out that Tian and Rui are pretty much opposites when it comes to that though.

“I think I should probably head over to Micah and Tian’s. I told them I’d be there at noon and it’s half past now.”

“Alright, bye. Love you.” Rui mumbled, again not glancing up.

“Love you.” I gently placed a kiss on the top of his head, grabbed my small leather pouch —which I keep important stuff in such as my keys, inhaler, credit card— and headed out.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･

I pull into their driveway. It was a pretty nice house, a garage where we keep our instruments, decently sized, 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms I think. Micah brought it when he was only 18. I’ve always wondered how the hell he was able to afford it right out of high school and after moving from Australia to New York City. Then again I presume he’s quite rich from his posher Australian accent, one of the ones that sound almost British.

Tian moved in with him 2 years after Micah originally bought the place and I think Micah likes the company since he seems a lot happier now.

I walked up the front door and opened it with my key. To us it wasn’t weird that I had their key and they had mine, it’s like when you’d give your key to a close relative. The house was half messy and half clean due to Micah messing up the house and Tian’s attempts to clean up after Micah. I walked into their garage where we said to meet.

Micah looks up at me from tuning his bass. He had his shoulder length hair dyed amethyst purple which was different from his previous colour “You’re a bit late.” I was almost an hour late.

I sheepishly ran my hand through my hair, embarrassed. “I had to run an errand.”

“Ah! Understandable, have a nice day!” Micah had that goofy grin on his face that he was quite known for. “Also you forgot your guitar here since last time”

“Oh that's where it was. Also, did you dye your hair again?”

“Mhm. I thought the amethyst colour would suit the band since it’s called Ametrine”

“It suits you, also, where's Tian?” I glance around the garage, his drum set was still there. Wait no that’s stupid he wouldn’t carry that thing out, he wouldn’t even attempt it, he’d rather leave it here and play video games upstairs later.

“Hmm.” Micah puts a hand on his chin, “probably asleep behind his drum kit. I think he was playing Valorant all night. Wait, actually I think I heard him aggressively drumming along to Chop Suey at 3 am. ” He then put his bass back onto its stand.

Both of us looked behind the drum kit to see Tian sitting on a pillow, playing something on his Nintendo switch with noise cancelling headphones.

“Tian!” Micah calls as a weak attempt to get Tian’s attention. “Tian Wu!” He even attempts using his full name as if that’d change something

Somehow that works and Tian looks up at Micah, “What is it Micah Torres” he said with a smirk, probably deciding to humour Micah using his full name. “Oh, Luka’s here.” He nods his head as a greeting which I nod back. “Give me a sec. Gotta save”

“Luka, I tuned your guitar for you already, fyi. Thank me later!” Micah tells me, literally saying FYI.

“Alright, thanks. I’ll tune your bass for you next time.”

Micah put a hand on my shoulder and grinned again. “No worries! Run your errands instead!” He grinned again.

“Are you sure?” I felt like I was in debt to him. He definitely didn’t need to tune my guitar for me but, he did anyway.

“Yeah! Of course mate!”

“Alright, are we just jamming today or recording a cover?” Tian asks, standing up then plugging in his switch which he had in the corner.

“Uhm..” Micah goes over to the wooden table in the corner and grabs a black notebook off of it and flips to a page somewhere in the middle “We have Under Pressure on our cover list, Luka do you think we’re ready to record yet?

“Hu-huh why are you asking me!?” In my opinion just because I’m the lead vocalist that doesn’t mean I get to make all the decisions. I was texting Tian earlier and we both agreed Micah has the best judgement out of the 3 of us and should be leader anyway.

“You’re our front man and lead vocalist. That's why!” Micah declares, handing me my guitar and picking up his bass again. “Also, Tian what is ‘Those Three Words Unsaid’? You wrote it under ideas.”

Tian turns slightly red in the face, “Oh it’s nothing really…I uh yeah.” He glanced the floor and wouldn’t even look Micah in the eye. “I uh I-I was drunk when I wrote that.”

“Uh huh.” Micah’s expression shows he’s quite skeptical (Tian doesn’t drink) however I think he could probably tell Tian was uncomfortable with answering, and decided not to question him any further “Luka? Your thoughts on whether we should record or not?”

I attempt to remember what our last practice sounded like I can’t completely remember, thanks to me having the same memory as Dori the fish. “I suppose we should practice it once and see where we’re at from there.”

“I don’t think we should record today.” Tian pipes in. “I mean I’d have to bring down the camera and all the mics from upstairs and then we’d have to repeatedly reshoot to get it perfect , I also don’t think I got the drums correctly yet.”

I nod in agreement, “I think our 300 YouTube subs can wait a bit.” I’m fine with just our 300 subscribers, they didn’t really comment other than the occasional thumbs up emoji usually from Micah and I’s parents . I can tell Micah on the other hand wants the attention, he wants to be famous and he wants to perform for large crowds he deserves it too, meanwhile I feel like I’m holding him back, he’d be able to live out his dream if he wasn’t stuck with me, but oddly I can’t bring myself to leave either.

“We could run through a few songs then go out to eat or something?” Micah suggests

“Sure, where?” I ask

“How about Tian’s dad’s restaurant. Maybe Tian can get us a discount.” Micah chuckles

“No. I uhm I had too much Chinese food recently…” Tian responds nearly instantaneously. This usually happens whenever his dad is brought up. I don’t bring up his dad anymore because of it.

“The last time you had non-western food was when my Abuela came over from Australia and made you tamales. That was a month ago.” Micah points out

Tian looks up at Micah with widened eyes like a puppy begging for a treat. “Maybe she can—“

Micah laughs “Abuela went down to Mexico to visit more relatives so no, she cannot come over and cook for us. She did tell me she thought you were a very nice boy, so I think she’d be willing to cook for you again though.”

Tian looks dejected once Micah says his Abuela cannot come over and cook but perks up again after he said she’d be willing to cook for him again. Typical Tian, on occasion he acts a lot younger than his age from what I noticed anyway . “Can you tell her I think her cooking tastes very good.”

“Yeah sure! I’ll ask her if Luka can come next time as well!”

“Also, Luka, do you think Rui would want to join us tonight?” Tian asks

“He already ate I think, plus exam season is coming up so he’s been shutting himself inside. Hikikomori as his siblings call him.”

“Wish him luck for us!” Micah says.

I nod. “I think we’re getting off topic now.”

Micah laughs “Shit.”

Then without any communication we start to play, we mess up more than once, Tian missing a beat, my voice not getting as high as I need it to be —in my defence I didn’t warm up—. Hours fly by like minutes as we were getting off track and instead of practicing only Under Pressure, we play an assortment of songs such as Clumsy, Lithium, My Hero, Famous Last Words, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W and Somebody told me. It'll be a miracle if my throat isn’t sore tomorrow, since I didn’t warm up at all.

“Can we stop to get some food..” Tian’s the first one of us to speak up.

“Actually, I think we should stop for the night, Luka could injure his voice.” Micah points out, agreeing with Tian. He probably knows that I wouldn’t speak up for myself otherwise. I feel like I’d be letting them down if I did.

I nod and put my guitar back in its case with my amp right next to the case, making a mental note to bring it back home and not just leave it here again.

“I’m going to order a pizza.” Tian mutters, pulling out his phone from his bag, then glances at Micah who gives a thumbs up and gestures somewhere for some reason. “Pineapples or no, this is very important.”

That turned into a whole debate between Micah and I over pineapples or not. Pineapples do great on pizza, I have no idea what he’s talking about. Honestly that was the stupidest debate I’ve been in ever. I stay over at their place, (Micah and Tian just got Just Dance, how could I say no to that even though I absolutely suck) until about midnight.

Tag list: @xen-blank @edith-is-apparently-a-cat @krenenbaker @the-banana-0verlord

#oc content #my writing #writers on tumblr #oc writing #ocs #my ocs #my oc stuff #oc stuff #original character #original novel #Idk how to tag this

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