#i feel like this was an eventual step that was gonna happen this tour

[houseofache]

so… how’s everyone feeling about the messages between vessel and sleep?

#i’m personally losing my mind but not surprised we got it #i feel like this was an eventual step that was gonna happen this tour #i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again #i think something is going to happen at wembley #not necessarily in a bad way #but definitely something significant #sleep token

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

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Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #felix smut #skz smut

[0fth34byss]

Sex Isn't Love | Part 1

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Minors, please DNI

🔞⚠️: mentions of alcohol consumption, references to casual sex

694 words

You lay sprawled on his bed, waiting for him to fetch a washcloth. He didn't know it yet, but this was the last time you planned on seeing Noah in person. It was inevitable that you'd see him online - his face was plastered all over your social media ‘For You’ pages - but if you could avoid being in close proximity to him again, you would.

It had started out as a meaningless fling, after being introduced by a mutual contact following one of his band's shows. The chemistry and sexual tension was palpable from the moment you shook hands. A one-night stand became a weekly arrangement, then the fling soon rolled into a seven month situationship, something you neither wanted or expected. Now the one thing you all but prayed wouldn't happen had happened, and you needed to get out before you got hurt.

It was ridiculous really. A guy like Noah, who was touring the world one week and on the cover of a magazine the next, was only ever going to see a woman like you as a play thing until someone more worthy of his attention came along. If you allowed yourself to fall any further, you'd become delusional in thinking he could feel the same way. What would the ‘rock star’ Noah Sebastian see in a junior account executive at a mediocre events company?

Noah handed you the washcloth, almost absentmindedly.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to order takeout or something?” he asked, not looking up from his phone screen.

“Actually, Noah, I'm gonna go,” you informed him as you freshened yourself up.

Noah said nothing as you got up and began to get dressed. He still hadn't looked up from his phone which only confirmed you were making the right decision.

“You sure? This new Greek place downtown looks good. They have gyros - that's one of your favourites, right?”

You swallowed hard, hating that he actually bothered to remember something about you. It made you second-guess your thoughts on the last several months.

Eventually you were able to choke out, “I'm sure. Look, I think we should call it a day on whatever this is.”

“What do you mean?” Noah responded, finally looking up from his phone.

“Don't play dumb, Noah. It's run its course. Plus, I’m ready to be in a relationship again, and not just be someone's hook-up when they have nothing else to do.”

Noah looked taken aback… and heartbroken. You assumed it was because he wasn't used to being rejected. You concentrated on gathering your belongings and getting out of there rather than his reaction.

You made your way to the bedroom door but Noah blocked you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Noah -”

“If you want to leave, I'll respect that, but you need to understand that you've never been just a hook-up to me.”

“Noah, don't -”

“I care about you. I really do.”

“Goodbye, Noah,” you said, pushing past him and doing everything in your power to not break out into a run as you left his house.

You threw yourself into work to distract yourself from all thoughts of Noah. You'd even driven to and from work without the radio on for the last few days after a station started playing a Bad Omens song. You weren't going to allow yourself to be held back by a situationship any longer.

As you made your way to your car at the end of the day, you started redownloading the dating apps you hadn't even considered looking at for months. Your plan for the evening was to make dinner, then pour a large glass of wine and update your profiles. It was official, you were back on the market you never should have taken yourself off.

The traffic was lighter than usual on the way home, and you managed to park in your favourite spot in the apartment building's parking lot. You smiled at the serendipity of it all as you slumped up the steps to your studio apartment.

Suddenly, you were stopped dead in your tracks when you rounded the corner and saw the 6’3”, tattooed figure of Noah Sebastian leaning against your front door.

Part 2

#noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian x reader

[fuctacles]

I'm honoured, but why isn't Steve the best man?

After Vecna the party slowly accepted the dullness of monster-free life and went their own ways. They kept in touch and met up every now and then but rarely in the complete assembly.

But a wedding invite creates an opportunity to get everyone together again. Eddie has been touring most of the time, trying to get his band to pop off. Metal off. The point is, he's been a bit behind on what everyone's been up to, Henderson being his only source of updates and exchanged greetings for the better part of last year. In a month he can hug him in person, and he can host a short campaign in lieu of a bachelor party Dustin didn't want. He will ask Buckley about college life and Harrington about his disastrous love life in person.

He will ask why he was Henderson's best man, not Steve. Dustin was weirdly cryptic about it when Eddie asked and briefly wondered if they had a falling out and maybe Harrington wasn't invited at all. But that sounded ridiculous and impossible so Eddie scrapped that thought and curbed his curiosity until he was there himself.

Suzie's maid of honour turned out to be a girl named Eden. And to Eddie's surprise, she recognised him. Her slightly brooding and bored expression brightened a fraction when they got introduced.

"You play in Corroded Coffin, right?"

"Yep! The rest of the band is gonna be here too if you wanna meet them."

They joked about their similarities in the names, and the music taste until it was time to see the venue and do the wedding rehearsal. Eddie was surprised to find out Lucas was the one supervising it.

"I would give my right hand Harrington would be here to fuss over his favourite kid's wedding," he started nonchalantly as soon as he got him out of earshot.

Lucas eyed him with a weird expression.

"Well, the favorite kid isn't here so..." he trailed off pointedly.

"Ah. He's just fussing somewhere else, then. That makes sense."

"Yep," he nodded eagerly like the topic was exhausting him. But that wasn't going to deter Eddie, no sir.

"Why isn't he the best man, though?"

"What, you don't like it?" Lucas raised an eyebrow, his hands dropping to his hips. A stance he certainly learned from the babysitter himself.

"Of course I like it!" Eddie quickly assured him. "I just thought-"

"Listen, Dustin wanted both of you to be here. But for... personal reasons... Harrington had to step down."

Eddie didn't like the way Lucas was measuring his words. And he absolutely hated hearing him use 'Harrington' in place of 'Steve', like all the kids called him. There was something happening here and it didn't sound good. He frowned at his friend.

"Listen, bud, you're not exactly helping my worries here."

Lucas sighed like he was tired and while Eddie could understand that, considering he was helping with the wedding preparations, he had a feeling it was more targeted at him specifically.

"Look, I promise you," and he paused to look Eddie directly in the eyes, his gaze fierce and earnest. "It's not as bad as it sounds, okay?"

Eddie searched his face for a second but he couldn't find anything, any indication of insincerity. So eventually, he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I trust you."

His friend's shoulders dropped with relief, lips curling into a small smile.

"Cool. Let's wrap it up here, then. Last run, everybody!"

////

Eddie watched the guests gather in the church benches. It was very out of his comfort zone and he couldn't remember the last time he was in any sacred place, but for the sake of his friend, he was gonna suck it up this once. Even if he had to spend even more time there as the best man.

The first rows were for the closest family. On Dustin's side, he could already see the party and teary-eyed Claudia. Next to El sat a tall woman Eddie had not seen before. Or maybe he did? She seemed familiar. Perhaps he saw her recently during wedding preparations or she was an old friend who changed with time. He certainly wouldn't recognise El these days, all grown up and with long hair, if he didn't have Max sitting on her other side to jump-start his memory.

His eyes drifted further, finding Jonathan, Nancy, Hopper, Joyce, and Argyle. The whole squad was here. Or it should be.

He scanned the crowd, skipping through the unfamiliar faces of Suzie's family before returning to the mysterious woman. Was she someone's girlfriend? But Will was gay, he came out to them a couple years ago. Lucas was still dating Max and Mike couldn't pull someone this gorgeous even if he wasn't in a vague situationship with El. Maybe she was waiting for someone? Steve? Or maybe Buckley finally lucked out?

He realised he was staring only when the girl's gaze met his. Her eyes widened, which, rude. For once, Eddie looked like an upstanding citizen, thank you very much. He has been forced into a well-tailored suit and he cleaned up well, got his hair braided on the sides and wore his normalest earrings.

But then she smiled at him, all shy and sweet and holy shit Eddie hoped she wasn't anyone's girlfriend. He doubled his efforts to remember her because he had to know her, the hair was too familiar, and that smile scratched some memories in his brain he just couldn't grasp. After the ceremony, he could get closer, see her features better. Maybe he knew her from high school? Or she's someone he's only seen photos of, or-

Someone sat down next to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek and whisper something. She turned, her smile widening at the sight of one Robin Buckley and Eddie looked around because where was Robin there was Steve too so-

The girl pointed at him with a smile and Robin waved at him excitedly and it all clicked, hitting Eddie like a rogue mine cart at Moria.

She was Steve Harrington.

Steve couldn't be the best man, because Steve wasn't a man anymore.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#stevie harrington #trans steve harrington #steve harrington #steddie #ff #mine #st #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #Transfeminine steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stevierything

[mingtinysworld]

Desire

Pairing; song mingi x f!reader x jeong Yunho

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Your boyfriends are performing on stage, when an unexpected scene comes up. You feel an unquenchable thirst for them, and are left up to their judgement. Will they give you what you desire?

Content/warnings: idol Mingi, idol Yunho, established relationship, pretty suggestive but no actual smut,

A/n: I freaking loved this request. I actually daydream of Yungi way more than I’d like to admit. And that part of wonderland?? Like yes please, just let me be squished in between. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Like, comment and reblog😘😘 - J

A Request by @bethelighthalazia

“Stop hogging her!” Mingi whines with a pout on his lips.

You chuckle from your position on the couch, back cushioned against Yunho’s firm chest. You can feel a rumble go through him as he lets out a hearty laugh. He continues with his sloppy kisses across your neck, making mischievous eye contact with Mingi.

You let out a content sigh, relaxing your whole body, all the tension disappearing. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his warm lips on you, nestling further into him. Mingi looks on with a childlike envy, wishing it was him who was holding you in his arms.

His pout finally pierces your heart and you motion for him to come closer. You pat the space in between your legs, and he happily scoots across the couch. He settles sideways with his head resting on your chest. He lets out a breath he was holding and can finally relax. You give an endearing chuckle, feeling the love and clinginess emanating from Mingi.

You run your hands through his soft hair, Yunho also doing the same to you. You stay like that for the next 10 minutes, basking in the enjoyable silence. The first sounds of someone talking slightly startles you since you were so gone into a hazy headspace.

“We have to leave in 5 minutes.” Yunho reminds Mingi.

Your heart sinks. You knew it had to happen eventually. You couldn’t stay cuddled up for eternity, even if you wished so. Mingi and Yunho had to leave for rehearsals and their first show of their brand new tour. You know how hard they’ve been working, staying up for so many days on end, and only eating when you bring them food yourself.

Mingi groans in complaint, not wanting to leave your warmth. You cup his face and give him a promising peck on the lips.

“I’ll be watching you perform and I’ll see you after baby. It’s only a couple hours.” You reassure him.

He pouts once again, looking at you with his chocolate brown eyes. “I knoww, I just hate being apart from you. I want to hold you all day.”

“Me too baby, but I know you can do it. I’ll be cheering you on from backstage.” You give him a tight hug, trying to convey all your love in the action. Yunho kisses the top of your head as he starts getting up. He pulls Mingi up, even though he went completely limp to try to pull Yunho down with him. Yunho succeeds in hoisting him up and they both look at you with very different eyes.

Yunho looks at you with loving and kind eyes, while Mingi shows you wide and glassy eyes. You fondly shake your head at your big pouty baby and pull them in for another tight hug. Your voice is muffled against them as you speak next.

“Good luck with everything, I know the show is gonna be so amazing, as always. I love you both.”

They say their goodbyes and go to the managers car waiting for them. As the car starts to drive off they open their windows and wave at you like two elementary school kids. You laugh at their cuteness and go back inside to start getting your day ready.

You get picked up by one of the staff at 6pm, so you have plenty of time ahead of you. First, you get food ready of course. Lots and lots of snacks for all the boys, as you know they get ravenous after performing so intensely. You also prepare the cartons of water and banana milk. Sometimes you feel like a mother, feeding your children. But you know you love it.

Your next step is your hair, makeup and outfit. You choose to be on the more casual side, since you you’ll only be backstage. You pick an emerald green sweater with black, ripped jeans. You know Yunho goes crazy for the green, so you feel cheeky in a way.

A few more hours go by and it’s finally time to leave. You get a text from the staff, and leave to get in the car. Your whole body is buzzing from excitement. The entire group has been insanely secretive about everything they’ve been preparing. You honestly have no idea what to expect, no clue what the set list even is.

As you go backstage, you can hear the muted sounds of the crowd. There’s a certain energy in the air, that can only be associated with Ateez. You heart swoops with a thrill every once in a while as the anticipation grows.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the show begins. The group goes on stage as the crowd roars. You watch on the big tv screen, all eight boys being illuminated by the bright lights. You cheer them on, sending all your love and good vibes to them telepathically.

As they go through the songs you can’t help but stare in awe. No one performs like them, they truly are one of a kind. Next up is Wonderland, which is one of your favorites. You dance along with them, having memorized it by watching them practice for so long. It comes to the bridge and dance break and you sit down to catch your breath to watch more attentively.

You wait for Wooyoung and Mingi’s part, but it never comes. Instead, there stands Yunho, in all his glory, clenching Mingi’s shirt with all his might. Their foreheads touch as they stare daggers into the other, the tension palpable. You hold your breath while they swing on their feet slowly. They look like they’re ready to devour each other right on stage, and you unconsciously clench your thighs together at the thought.

They finally let go of each other, and push one another in the opposite direction. You exhale a breath you weren’t aware of holding and slump down in a daze. The rest of the show goes by in a blur, your only train of thought focused on being in between your two boyfriends.

You only come to when you hear the deafening cheers. You abruptly stand up and clap robotically, having paid zero attention to the rest of the concert. You go out to the hallway connecting with the stage and see the boys filing in one by one, sweat and adrenaline dripping off of them.

Mingi and Yunho approach you, with a knowing look on their faces. You wait expectantly, for what exactly you’re not sure. Mingi speaks first.

“How did you like it babe?”

Your mouth opens yet nothing comes out. They laugh at your lack of speech and at the quick reddening of your cheeks.

Yunho cocks an eyebrow. “Did you see something you liked?”

Your heart thumps wildly and you feel slightly lightheaded. “I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Your slight stutter and nervous laughter doesn’t go dismissed.

Yunho steps closer, bringing you in by your hip. He looks down at you, swiftly glancing at your parted lips. “I don’t know sweetheart, it seems like something has got you worked up.” He turns to Mingi. “Perhaps I’m imagining it?” Mingi catches on to the hint and plays along.

“Yunho I don’t think anything’s going on. The sweet girl is probably so tired from all this waiting, we should get her to bed.” This time, his pout is definitely a fake one. One you want to swipe away with your tongue, intruding his awaiting mouth. The way they talk about you as if you’re not there works you up even more.

You try to protest. “I’m not tired! Not at all.” They smirk knowingly, and look at one another.

“What do you think Mingi? Should we let her have us tonight?” His eyes glow with a sadistic glint.

Mingi smiles big and looks you straight in the eye. “I don’t think we should Yun.” At that you struggle out of Yunho’s hold. Trying to stand tall, you huff out in annoyance.

“You know I’m right here right? Stop being annoying and just kiss me already!”

They both raise eyebrows at your outburst. Yunho’s eyes darken while Mingi’s grow in hunger.

“I’m gonna have her first.” Yunho states.

Mingi growls slightly, pushing Yunho away from you.

“Like hell you are.”

#ateez #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #request #yunho fic #ateez mingi #yunho fluff #mingi fluff #yungi #ateez yungi #ateez fanfiction

[luveline]

shy reader who starts working with rockstar!remus and thinks he’s super grumpy and mean, but eventually he reveals that he’s a huge softie and is really sweet to her. maybe she gets the impression bc she sees him arguing with someone or gets told something. thanks so much for all your amazing writing!

tw implied slut shaming ♡ rockstar!remus x shy!fem!reader | 1k words

Remus is technically your boss. You don't expect him to treat you any differently than that – a boss employee relationship suits you fine. It actually suits you perfectly. If he'd been chatty like James or overly flirtatious like Sirius you may not have survived this long on tour, but you have.  

Sirius' assistant Mabel had told you on your first day that Remus can be quite short with others. And over time you've found she's right. He doesn't say more than he needs to, he doesn't adopt any beguiling tones. Short, though, might be the wrong word for it. He's quiet. 

You try not to label him too harshly. After all, you barely talk. If people were calling you grumpy because of that alone you'd feel a great sense of injustice.

You wipe your damp cheeks. Maybe being called grumpy might be kinder. Grumpy you can own. Grumpy is something you can actively change. 

"Are you okay?" Remus asks, shocking you out of your thoughts. 

You sniff and stand as quickly as you can, stiff from sitting outside in the cold for so long. You don't look at him as you say, "I'm okay." 

"Are you sure?" 

You chance a glance at his face, unreadable as always. "Yeah." 

"What's upset you?" he asks seriously. 

The wind whips at your clothes and bites at your fingers. You tense them up into balls. With no jacket to hide them in they might as well be made of ice. 

Remus is similarly underdressed for the weather. Different cities, different climates. You miss the South American half of the tour dearly. 

"We should go inside," he says into the silence. 

You don't want to go in yet. "I'm gonna stay out here." 

"It's too cold." 

You nibble the inside of your bottom lip and try to fight another embarrassing wave of tears. "I don't want to go back to my bus, yet." 

He nods, eyes very obviously on the tear dribbling weakly down your cheek. "Okay. Okay, but we can't stay out here. Come on."

He nods his head towards the right where the band's bus, bigger and shinier than anyone else's, sits parked. You follow him up the steps and into the small front where there's a sort of L-shaped sofa around a square table covered in laptops and paper and drinks. You've been in here before, though usually there's another Marauder causing havoc. Remus opens his arm toward the table and you take it as a cue to sit as he disappears into the bedroom area down the way. He returns with a thin quilt and passes it over. Obviously his, it smells exactly like him, woodsmoke and sandalwood and that hint of fruity jasmine. 

You try not to breathe it in too deeply as you pull it over your lap, frigid hands hiding beneath it. "Thank you." 

"If somebody's done something to you, you can tell me." 

"Maybe I'm homesick," you try. 

"Are you homesick?" 

"...No." 

He sits beside you. Not close but closer than you thought he would've. If he wanted to, he could wrap his arm around your shoulder. 

"Are you feeling warmer?" he asks after a minute. 

"Yeah. Thank you. You didn't have to-" 

"Of course I did. You're my favourite assistant." 

You laugh, startled. "I bet you say that to all of your assistants." And he must have a few. You only handle his on tour expenses and comfort. He barely ever needs you.

"Only the very pretty ones." He tilts his head to the side. "Are you okay?" 

His caring tone is sobering. You nod slowly and then with more enthusiasm. "Yeah, I-" You shock yourself when you realise how much you want to just tell him what had happened, and when he smiles at you to keep going, you do. "One of the, uh, one of the tech guys. I got in the way and he- he asked me why I couldn't be more useful. 'N obviously uh, I'm your- I'm usually with you, and it looks… well, they think we're sleeping together. And one of the girls said I have plenty use." Your voice wobbles.

"One of the girls on your bus, you mean?" he asks gently. 

"Yeah. That's why I didn't want to go in." 

"You don't have to go in. I can't get them to put you on a different bus, if you like." 

You shake your head. It's a silly thing to be upset about. So what if everyone things you're having sex with a rockstar, right? And you don't really care about that. Sex is sex. But, the animosity that she'd said it with. 

"I guess- I mean, I thought she liked me," you say weakly. 

"More fool her if she doesn't. You're lovely." 

You laugh wetly. "What?" 

"I said you're lovely. You're sweet. You've never heard that?" he asks. 

You turn your face to him and smile shyly. "No, I've never heard that." 

He raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes before huffing a breath out of the corner of his mouth. "Well, that's a crime." 

You don't know what to say. You think maybe he's knocked himself unsteady as well, because he reaches over your lap to grab a heavy looking laptop and pull it open in front of you. "I got that movie you like. The one about the aliens." 

"A Dark Line?" 

"Yeah." 

"I didn't know you liked-" 

"I don't. Or, I mean, I didn't. But you were so excited to see it when we were in Brazil, I thought it must be worth watching." 

The DVD he got is dubbed in Portuguese. You have to sit very close to read the subtitles, and his arm is a heat against yours. When he laughs you can feel it in your chest. 

You sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His smile is the farthest thing from grumpy, at least in your opinion. 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin #marauders era #marauders #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #rockstar!au #marauder x reader

[yanderelovlies]

You watched from your window as Joesph walked out of his house duffle bag in one hand, his jacket in the other. Curious you opened your window calling out to him "Hey! Where you going this time?!"

Joesph glared up at you "what's it to you?!"

You shrugged "I mean if you need a place to stay I'm sure mum will let you in the basement again!"

Joesph's glare went off to the side glaring down the street before back at you sighing "Fine!....but just for the night!"

He began to walk towards your house as you went back inside closing the window. You were making your way downstairs when you heard a knock on the door "mum! Can Joesph stay the night!"

"Another fight?"

"Yep!"

She sighed "Yes but you have to make the bed this time!"

You got to the door reaching for the doorknob "I will!" You opened the smiling up at the taller male "Hey cowboy."

Joseph rolled his eyes walking into the house "I still don't understand why you call me that."

You just laughed in return "oh! And you can head downstairs I'm gonna get the bedding so we can make your bed." Joesph nodded making his way downstairs silently.

Once everything was settled you laid starfish on his bed that had been made not long ago as Joesph sat in an old chair not too far away.

"I'm fucking sick of it y/n. I'm sick of it all....so I'm leaving."

You sat up from the bed looking at him "but where are you gonna go?"

Joesph shrugged he looked uncaring, but in reality, he was a little scared. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do, but he couldn't stay there anymore. He also did to be a burden on your family. He knew how your father felt about him, and how if he stayed longer than a day it would start a fight between your parents. He couldn't do that.

You looked down before quickly looking back up at him "you can stay here! I'm sure they wouldn't mind!"

Joesph shakes his head "look y/n I'll be fine. I'm sure if I ask a couple of friends they will let me stay with them for a couple of days."

You knew of those friends. It was no secret that most of Joesph's friends were part of a bad crowd. You didn't like them, and feared what would happen to if he did "c-come on Joesph--"

"I said no! Now can leave I'm tired." He didn't bother to look at you.

You were quiet before finally getting up and heading upstairs. You hoped you would be able to talk him out of it tomorrow morning when things cooled down.

.

Unfortunately, that was the last time you had seen Joesph. He had left sometime early that morning without a word. You tried looking for him but never got far. You even spent months by your window hoping to see him passing by or walking up to your house, but he never came.

Eventually, you gave up ever seeing him and moved on. You graduated high school and found yourself studying cosmetology turns out you had a real knack for it.

All your hard work paid then end as you got a job as a makeup artist for a kid's show called The Sunnytime Crew Show. It was cute and you were a little excited to work with clown makeup.

This job felt like an amazing opportunity until the star of the show walked in. The one person you thought you would never see again. "......Joseph..."

He watched you with wide eyes. Not expecting to see you here either. He said nothing and only stared. You had to quickly shake tour self out of it and move so he could sit. "Hurry up." You mumbled.

It was awkward. None of them said a word, and neither of you made eye contact. You hated feeling like this, especially with him, but you couldn't just forgive him either. He left without telling you and didn't even bother to contact you afterward. It hurt you deeply and can't be easily forgiven.

.

This is how the next few months pass until finally he cave "y/n.....can we talk?"

You were cleaning your station a little faster the before "nothing to talk about sir. Now can you please leave me alone so I can go home?"

He stepped closer to you his arm reaching for you "but I can't leave you alone not after--"

You let out a loud scoff as all your movement stopped "really?! Cause you didn't seem to have a problem doing it for YEARS!"

Joseph flinched at your tone. He expected it, but it sound worse in person than it did in his head. The worst part of it all he didn't have a justifiable response to give.

He had to try though "Please let me talk to you. Tell you everything about my perspective.....and by the end of it you still hate me then I'll back off."

You started at him hard before puffing out a "fine." You ran your finger through your hair before finally turning to him "there....is a small diner down the street....meet me there at 7..."

"Got It at seven....meet you there."

.

Even sitting in the booth you felt like a fool. Why did you think he would show up? He is probably packing his bags to leave just like last time. Your fingers drummed on the table as you wait only for them to stop when you heard the familiar jingle of the bell.

Looking up briefly you noticed it was him. He came and quietly sat in front of you. Fidgeting with his fingers waiting for something from you.

"I...ordered us both some coffee for now."

He nodded "thanks..." He sighs looking down at his hands "I'm....sorry for leaving the way I did..." He began to spill his guts in a way he has never done before in the past.

He explained how the fighting abuse took a toll on him mentally as well as physically m. How he knew your father hated him, and didn't want to be the reason why another family falls apart. Finally how for awhile he got worse before he got better, and felt ashamed of who he was. He couldn't face you after that.

"I figured it would have been easier if you thought I died in my hometown than face you.....I'm sorry."

You were silent letting his words sink in before taking a deep breath "I...didn't know the full extent of what you went through growing up.....but I wish you would have told me so I could be there for you....you shouldn't have to face that alone...."

You could feel Joseph's eyes on you as you continued to talk "That being said it's hard to forgive you after so long...I missed you for a long.....I waited every day for you...I just wanted to see you..."

Joseph said nothing. He couldn't help but feel shame at the thought of you waiting on him.

"It may take awhile for me to trust again..."

"I'm willing to prove myself to you as many times as it takes until you trust me again."

.

Joesph kept well with his promise. Always greeting you in the morning, and saying goodbye before leaving. Other times he would invite you to the same dinner to catch up, and talk about things.

Months passed and it started to feel like it once was as hangouts were then moved to each other apartments watching movies and whatever you could find on cable. At some point, you spent the night in each other places.

This night was one of those nights as you cuddled up to his side watching a movie. You knew you had feelings for him but never said anything. Too afraid so you took solace in the little moments like this.

You could feel your eyes begin to droop till they finally closed altogether. You were sleeping for a bit till you felt Joseph shift as he sat up. "Fell asleep huh doll...?" you could feel the arm behind you move as he moves his hand to pet your hair.

".....you know...I had the biggest crush in your growing up....you are so smart so beautiful...more than I was." He sighed as he stopped petting you hair "I didn't want ruin that or ruin any good chances you had because....honestly doll you deserve someone so much better..."

You wonder if you should have said something until finally "What if I think you're good enough for me....?"

You could feel him freeze up. He wasn't expecting you to be awake let alone speak. You opened your eyes and looked up at him patiently waiting for him to respond.

"Even after everything.....? You would think someone like me would deserve you?"

"I think people deserve second chances and had proven to me that you deserve it."

You could feel him relax as his face got closer to yours "do you mean it?" His breath fanned across your face his voice barely above a whisper.

"More then you know cowboy"

He smirked before finally closing the space between you.

#sunny day jack #swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #x reader #yandere x reader #something's wrong with sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack x reader #swwsdj x reader #joesph cullman x reader #joesph x reader #joesph cullman #sdj joseph #joseph haberdae #somethings wrong with sunny day jack joseph l #joseph cullman

[watchingovergvf]

It’s Always Been You- Sam Kiszka

A/N: Hey guys, i’m back with a new Sam fic. I deeply adore Sam and have been wanting to write more for him, so here’s the result. Also, i pretty sure i’m gonna do a part 2 to this, but only if enough people genuinely enjoyed the story. As always, I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear your feedback or just chat about anything and everything!!!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Miscommunication a tad bit.

———

Four Months.

It’s only been four months since you’ve seen the boys, but it feels like it’s been years.

Due to their crazy tour schedule and your seemingly never-ending work days, the five of you haven’t been able to see each other. You would get the occasional call or text, but that’s as good as it got.

But that would all change tonight.

The boys finally got a break for Christmas and had been home with family for the past few days. Of course, not being able to sit still for very long, they all decide to throw a New Year’s Eve party, which they graciously invited you to.

Thrilled was an understatement.

You missed both Jake and Josh worrying over you like mother hen, or telling you all about their latest adventures. You missed staying up all night with Danny, talking about anything and everything until the sun hung high in the sky. And Sam…

Well things with Sam where a bit more complicated. See, Danny and Sam happen to be your best friends, always have been. The three of you were attached at the hip for god knows how long. While you missed them both deeply while they were away on tour, you missed Sam a bit differently.

You couldn’t exactly put your finger on when you fell in love with Sam, but it’s been a very long time, to say the least. Of course, you have never shared this information with him before, in fear you would ruin everything you’ve built with him. You had come to terms with hiding your feelings at all costs.

Which leads us back to the present, you were anxious as fuck.

Were you excited? Yes. But, that didn’t stop the pounding of your heart as you quickly got ready.

Smoothing out your dress in the mirror, you look at yourself. The red long-sleeve dress had been the right choice for tonight’s events. After sliding on your shoes, you get a text from Jake that he is outside waiting for you.

Scurrying around your apartment, making sure you have everything. Finally, you trot out the front door in search of his car.

Climbing into the back seat, you grin at Jake and his girlfriend. They both complement your attire for the night, claiming the red suited you best.

“We missed you, Kid. It feels like it’s been years since we have gotten together. Danny and Sam have been itching to see you since we stepped foot into town” Jake says. You agree full heartedly, already giddy about seeing them all.

The ride is short, but full of laughter due to Jake recalling stories from tour. Once the three of you rounded the corner to Sam’s house, your forgotten anxiety seems to find its way back to you, pounding its way to your chest.

Jake and his girlfriend walk ahead of you, while you attempt to catch your breath. Eventually, you follow behind them, all the way up to the front door. The door swings wide open, with Danny standing in the doorway. He greets Jake and his girlfriend, not expecting you behind them. The minute he spots you, he scoops you up into his arms, squeezing you tight. “Bug, holy shit! You’re here. I missed you so much” Danny says, after reluctantly setting you down. You nudge his side, “I missed you too, Dan. It’s been way to long. Now be a good friend and show me where I can get a good drink” you smile at him. He chuckles at you, looping your arms together and leads you in the direction of the kitchen.

“You know, I’m not the only one who missed you. Sammy boy did his fair share of pinning for you as well” he says teasingly.

Okay. To be fair, you didn’t mean to tell Danny about your small Sam predicament. The both of you had a movie night at his house, that turned into drunken confessions at three a.m. He managed to coax the truth out of you and now he won’t let you forget it.

You roll your eyes at Danny and begin to reply, but instead you get pulled in the other direction. Josh bear hugs you and mumbles under his breath about how much he missed you, and couldn’t wait to show you some of the music they had been working on. Rubbing at his back, you gently pull away. You tell him to go drink some water. He grumbles at you, telling you to find him later for a dance and then he stumbles off.

You make it into the kitchen, spotting the makeshift bar on the counter. After successfully making something that doesn’t taste horrible, you stand observing the room, that is until you hear an all too familiar laugh. Butterflies find themselves fluttering inside your stomach. Whipping your head around just to spot Sam chatting it up with some guy you’ve never met before. You decided to find him later, not wanting to interrupt.

You find yourself on Sam’s back porch, gazing at the night sky all alone. Leaning up against the railing of the porch, you hear the backdoor open and close. Figuring it was probably Danny, you don’t make a move to turn and see for yourself. Suddenly, you feel fingers wiggling at your sides. You squirm around in their hold, wanting to see who the culprit was.

Of course, it was him.

Sam.

He had the stupidest grin spread wide across his face. Sam pulled you close, hugging you tightly.

He missed you, you missed him, nothing needed to be said. The embrace was evident enough.

The both of you slip from each other’s grip but remain side by side. The two of you begin sharing stories of anything and everything that happened while the two of you were apart. After gasping and laughing at each other’s stories for what felt like hours, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, gazing at everything, but each other.

“Bug, I…” Sam calls out to you.

The backdoor busts open and Jake comes staggering out. He starts screeching at you in his iconic British accent, demanding to have one dance with you. Never being able to say no to any of them you reluctantly agree.

Glancing back at Sam, you ask if he is tagging along, but he somberly declines, clearly wanting a moment alone. You nod, but begin to worry you may have caused his saddened mood.

The night carries on with the silliest of antics.

Jake spins you round and round. Josh keeps your cup full. Danny cheers along, encouraging Jake’s ridiculous behavior. All the while, Sam sits in the corner, wishing it was him you were dancing with.

It’s about thirty minutes till midnight, and you’ve managed to pull Jake off of you for the time being. Once again you find yourself on the back porch, alone, but not for long. Sam finds his way back outside eventually.

He sits a bit of distance away from you and lights a cigarette. The both of you are tense and silent, a completely different atmosphere since the first time on the porch. Eventually, you get sick of the silence cornering the both of you.

“Sam, did I do something wrong, you’ve been avoiding me all night since the first time we came out here. You can talk to me, whatever it is” you glance over at him, only to find that he was already looking at you.

He stands and closes the space between the two of you. Reaching his hand over, he pushes a stray hair behind your ear. He gazes at you saying, “I don’t think I can, Bug”.

The two of you stare longingly at each other for what feels like a life time.

You sigh, not wanting to push him on the matter. “You don’t have to but know you can tell me anything, no matter what” you say.

You start to make your way back inside, but before you can even make it two steps away, Sam is tugging you back into him.

“It’s just… I haven’t seen you in months, despite my attempts to push you to the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every single second of everyday, my mind was full of only you. It always has been and it kills me to watch you from afar. I’ve been so anxious all week because I knew you were coming tonight. And when I caught a glimpse of you tonight, in that pretty dress, all I could think about was how much I would regret not telling you how I actually feel. You haunt my mind day and night, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s always been you, always. I love you, Bug”.

You stare at Sam in disbelief. Bring your hands up to his face, cupping his jaw. “I don’t know what to say, I….” you whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you” Sam shoots out.

“No Sam, I...”

“I understand if you only see me as a friend, I just wanted-

“Sam!” you holler at him.

He snaps his mouth shut looking down at you.

“Are you kidding me” you chuckle out. “Sam, I’ve been in love with you since we met, dumbass. It’s always been you Sammy, always”.

The New Year’s Eve countdown begins.

10, 9…

You both grin at each other, realizing just how infatuated you are with one another.

6, 5...

“Bug, can I kiss you?” he asks.

2, 1…

“Please do” you whisper, tugging his face down to meet yours.

Cheers are heard all across the house, making toasts to the new year. The both of you stay in your little bubble, not wanting to interrupt it quite yet.

Reluctantly, the both of you pull away from one another. Sam pulls you tight into his chest, whispering melodic words and promises of love.

The outside world long gone, being responsible can wait another day.

The both of you gaze into the sky, watching fireworks, utterly in love with one another.

———

A/N: Part Two???!!!! Hope you enjoyed🫶

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fics #sam gvf #gvf blurb #gvf fanfiction #josh gvf #greta van fleet fluff #gvf fic #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny gvf #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fic #danny wagner #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner fluff #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #jake gvf

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Stringed

For Discolored.

Kat, not only have to dragged me into writing for Trolls, but I have degraded myself to writing a songfic! SONGFIC! Have a happy birthday and enjoy the whump!

(Yes I changed some lyrics to make it fit better.)

--

Since he woke up, Branch had been doing everything he could think of to fight back. Every annoying trick Poppy had ever taught him. The leash was chewed. Bella was kicked when she tried to feed him. He hissed and growled at Daffy when he approached.

Hour three was when he resorted to screaming. Just screaming his head off. He could see it wearing them down. After another hour of near constant screams broken by Branch’s need for oxygen and only Branch’s need for oxygen, Daffy finally pulled over.

“Quit throwing a tantrum!” he shouted.

Branch just continued to scream. He kicked his feet on the ground like a toddler just for good measure.

Daffy growled.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment!” he said “Fine. We can play a little game!”

Branch squirmed and kicked as Daffy approached him, but eventually Daffy unclipped the leash.

Branch barely questioned it before standing up and bolting to stand in the doorway.

“Calm down, baby.” Bella begged, wring her hands in worry.

Branch snarled at her.

“We just want to bond with you! Why won’t you let us!” Bella yelled.

“You kidnapped me!”

“John Dory did that first!” Daffy pointed out “If he had left well enough alone-”

Bella placed a hand on his chest.

“Babe.” she said

Daffy huffed, crossed his arms, and shut his mouth.

Branch narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He had a feeling the rest of that sentence was important.

“Branch, Darling, Baby. We’re just doing the best we can. I know this is a little jarring, but we want to have some family time with you and this really was the only way. Don’t you want to spend time with your parents? Get to know us?”

“You. Kidnapped. Me.” Branch repeated.

He really didn’t know what part of this wasn’t getting through!

Bella sighed.

“This is not a discussion. We are going on tour! You are going to be nice to your mother! We are going to make happy family memories! And you will be performing! End of!” Daffy said sternly.

Branch laughed.

“There is nothing in the world you can do to make me sing for you!” he snapped.

Bella began to fidget with her bracelet.

“Guppy, we’re your parents. We can make you do anything we want.”

“Maybe Grandma could! But you didn't raise me! I’m not afraid of you!”

“Are you going to make us do this the hard way?” Daffy asked.

Branch maintained eye contact as he throw open the door.

They sighed.

Branch couldn’t care less about their empty threats. He had entertained them for too long as is. They had let him off the leash and stopped the bus. That was practically an invitation to leave. Branch used to make a habit of rejecting invitations, but he was a post-Poppy Branch now. He didn’t need it hand engraved.

He could hear a song starting as he stepped off the bus, being followed by his parents. He didn’t really plan on joining in on it. His parents could sing it to each other while he walked away. Or maybe he’d end up singing half of it from a mile away. He didn’t care.

He was barely paying attention to the music when every inch of his body suddenly locked up. It felt like he had been sewn up with sting and every stitch was being yanked. He could see the string bracelet his mother had giving him glow a strange blue.

Then his head was twitching back and forth to the beat. This wasn’t the normal choreography that came so naturally to a troll in a musical number. Those instincts could be resisted or interpreted. This was a rigid command. Branch helplessly hit each beat with unnatural perfection.

“Now's time, get in line.” Bella sang.

Branch felt himself step back into line with his parents.

“Don't be afraid tonight.”

Branch helplessly synced to his parents’ dancing as they continued to sing.

“We're gonna take you high. And before you realize.”

He didn’t know what was happening. He felt sick, but he couldn’t stop.

“Round and round you'll go.”

He spun.

“Up and down, never slow.”

He threw himself around like a rag doll.

“Feel the excitement grow.”

Branch felt like screaming! Why was he doing this!?

“Oooh! This is where you let go!”

He continued to dance too perfectly. It was intense. It hurt.

“Hands high like a roller coaster. This power taking over. Take us higher, here we go. Ohohohoh Welcome to the show!”

His parents were still singing, like this was fun. Like they weren’t hurting him.

“Don't fight us and just conform! Cause you were made to perform! We're not about to lose control!

Or maybe they were singing like they were.

“Ooooh! Welcome to the show!”

Then Branch discovered a new layer of torture when his own voice sang.

“Oooh! Welcome to the-”

Branch sounded as on key as ever, but it felt like singing through a blown out throat. He was relieved when his parents took to vocals back over. Branch continued to dance to their duet like a prop, but at least he wasn’t singing with them as he bounced between them.

“Oh! Oh! We're on a mission. Nothing”

“NOTHING!”

“Can stand in our way!”

Branch noticed the choreography had him dancing like a literal puppet. It made him feel sicker.

“Ohohoh! We don't need permission! We're gonna rise up!”

“And we'll be the change!”

The torture came back in full force as Branch’s voice vocalized in the background while they sang.

“Oh! Oh!”

“Hear it on the stereo!”

He wanted to cry, but nothing was responding.

“Whoa! Oh!”

“You're about to lose control!”

He was twitching on beat. So Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

“Whoa! Oh! Everybody knows! Oooh!”

“This is where you let go.”

Branch was sick and dizzy, but it didn’t stop him from hitting Every. Last. Mark. With uncomfortable accuracy.

“Hands high like a roller coaster. This power taking over! Take us higher here we go! Ohohohoh!”

“Welcome to the show!” came again from his own unwilling throat

“Don't fight us and just conform! Cause you were made to perform!”

Branch had never heard of a troll singing against their will. He didn’t know how his parents were doing this. It didn’t feel natural and it hurt.

“We're not about to lose control! Oooh oh!”

“Welcome to the show!”

More like Welcome to the horror show! His parents took back over the next lines, but the dance got downright demeaning.

“Come on. Come on. Come on. And put your hands u-u-up.”

Branch felt his wrist lock above his head, mocking being shackled.

“We're gonna have some fu-u-un.”

Stepping from to side to side. Perfectly on beat. So perfect you’d never guess how much pain he was in.

“We've only just begu-u-un.”

His skin itched and burned everywhere as he danced.

“And it's too late to ru-u-un.”

His arms pulled like there were strings in his bones.

“You can't run so put them u-u-up.”

His parents were dancing with him again.

“We're gonna have some fu-u-un. Turn up the bass, let it wu-u-ump. We've only just begun.”

Bella’s hands were on him. He managed to shiver, butt hat was probably only because it was involuntary.

“And you can't run.” she sang from behind him.

She spun him around and he mirrored every step while he sang in perfect pitch with her.

“Hands high like a roller coaster. This power taking over.”

Now that Branch had a close look at Bella, he noticed her bracelet was now faintly glowing blue and gray.

“Take us higher. Here we go!

Gray and blue like his had become. The bracelet he had failed to take off.

“Ooohohohoh!”

He got the next line all to himself.

“Welcome to the show!”

Branch finally understood some of what was happening to him.

“Don't fight it just conform.”

Somehow, the stupid promise bracelet was controlling him. The song was all his mother’s design.

“Cause I was made to perform.”

He stored that information away for later use and tried to focus on blocking out the pain. His throat hurt. His joints hurt. And frankly his heart wasn’t in the best shape.

“I do not have the control.”

It felt like his throat was shredding with every note, but he continued to sing his part without a single hitch or crack.

“Whoa oh! Welcome to the shoooooow!”

Bella split off from him to dance with Daffy again.

“Hands high like a roller coaster! This power taking over! Take us higher, here we go!”

Branch got another turn, hating the sound of his too perfect voice that felt like it should be nothing but raw growling at this point.

“Ohohoh! Welcome to the shoooooow!”

They were on either side of him, framing the puppet like twitches he was doing.

“Don't fight us and just conform! Cause you were made to perform! We're not about to lose control. Whoa oh!”

“Welcome to the show”

It finally clicked. Branch may’ve been the one singing it, but they were welcoming him to the show. The show he was about to be an unwilling star of! Hence why he was the one welcoming himself.

“U-u-up! We're gonna have some fu-u-un. Turn up the bass, let it wu-u-ump We've only just begun.”

They almost seemed to mocking him.

“Welcome to the show.”

He wanted to scream, but his voice was stuck being so painfully perfect.

“U-u-up! We're gonna have some fu-u-un.”

His sure they would.

“Turn up the bass, let it wu-u-ump.”

Branch started to sink to the floor like a puppet being lowered.

“We've only just begun.”

He was sure of that too.

“And I can't run” Branch sang in horror.

He was left panting on his hands and knees. Everything burned like he scrubbed himself raw with acid. Hands and breath shaking, Branch slowly raised his eyes.

Bella was standing over him, adjusting her own bracelet. It was back to the off white color.

“We don’t want to have to do that too much, but we’ll do what we have to if you’re going to be trouble.” Daffy explained.

“Just behave yourself and do what your told and we won’t have to do that again. Alright, Guppy?” Bella added sweetly.

She hugged Branch before he could pull away and helped him stand.

“I’m going to puke.” he announced.

Bella rubbed his back and helped him stumble towards the toilet. He made good on his promise.

“It’ll get easier.” Bella said, her kind voice almost making Branch feel better.

Branch coughed before he could say something snarky. It was probably for the best. He wasn’t ready to go round two and insulting his mother was probably “making trouble”

“You were perfect.” she said.

Branch hated that word. He hated the possessive way she said it.

“Are we going to behave now?” Daffy asked.

Branch wanted to bite the man and refuse. He wanted to scream like some kind of creature. He wanted to shove Belladonna’s motherly hands off of him!

But the bracelet still felt tight on his wrist. If he did any of that, he’d go through it again and Branch just couldn’t do it. Not so soon after the first time.

“I just want to take a nap.”

He would fight again in the morning. When he had his strength back.

“Good boy, Guppy.” Bella said, giving him another hug.

Branch slumped and let her carry him to his bed.

“My perfect boy.”

Branch still hated that word, but he was too tired to even make a face.

--

"Welcome To The Show" by Britt Nicole in case you couldn't tell.

Happy birth, you smug bitch! ILY.

#submission #grungekitty-77 #IVYYYY #SHUT UP THIS IS SO GOOD #the whiplash from Britt Nicole tho… bro I was obsessed with her in like middle scho #terrifying #trolls #dw trolls #not my fic #discolored #fanfic #whump

[heartbeatan]

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 12)

Return to Chapter 11.

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Chapter 12

You had an awkward back and forth about what Jungkook could do to cover up your dolphin tramp stamp. You hated the tension between you. Feelings were high, and you were both trying your best to not address them. You were trying to revert back to that first phone call between you, or that first moment you stepped into his house, or that first time you had sex over his dresser. You were trying to revert back to how you behaved when your arrangement was just an arrangement. But you were learning that it was something else that didn’t happen overnight.

But eventually you worked through the tension, and you found yourself straddled over the ink chair, hugging the back rest, while Jungkook went to work painting you free of one more attachment.

The studio felt hollow and cold, and you hated how not even the buzzing of the needle at your back could dull the silence between you. You felt his melancholia radiating from him, even though he was hidden from your sight. You were disappointed too, just like he was. You could feel that disappointment welling painfully in your chest, and threatening to stream out of you in tears. You wished you knew what to say to him, or how to ask how he was feeling.

“Thank-you,” you peered gently over your shoulder at him while he refilled his ink. “For letting me come here. And everything.”

He didn’t look up, but you saw how he was chewing on his own tongue as he gently nodded.

You looked straight ahead again as he resumed, and prepared yourself for another silence, but instead, he began to speak.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” his voice was low, and you could tell he was working hard to keep it level. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“You haven’t,” you said stern and sharp, wanting to ensure he knew that he wasn’t the cause of anything. “You’re not pushing me away. I was always gonna have to go home at some point, no matter what happened between us.”

“I can come with you,” he whispered.

“No…” you made sure you were also stern about this delivery, albeit a touch more gentle. “I need to go be by myself. And you have to get ready to tour.”

He went quiet again, and the deafening silence between you became loud with the mechanical grind of the wheels in his head.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighed.

“It matters to me,” you encouraged. “You and I are good at talking. Let’s not change that.”

He thought for a moment as he finished up a small area of the tattoo. “I’m frustrated,” he moved to replace the ink. “And I’m trying not to be, because I don’t want to say something stupid and give you a reason to never see me again.”

“You can be frustrated,” you spoke soothingly. “I’m frustrated too. Just tell me why.”

He exhaled loud through his nose, then pressed the needle to your back and focused on filling in a new area. “I just feel like… you and I wasted a lot of time. And now we’re here, and it’s been perfect, but now the timing is bad. And I feel like I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong, this is all me.”

He went quiet again, and you felt him hyper focusing on your tattoo. But, you knew his silence wasn’t solely because of concentration.

“You asked me yesterday,” you resumed speaking, needing to be sure he understood, “if we could put Chris and Stephanie behind us, and it’d just be us going forward. I really want that, Jungkook - but I don’t think I can. Not right now.”

“Shit,” he whispered, guilt reverberating through every ounce of his voice. “I knew it. Y/N I’m sorry, I was stupid - I didn’t mean to pressure you, I just got ahead of myself.”

“You didn’t pressure me and you’re not stupid.”

“It was stupid. I thought: I’m making her happy. Something… great is happening. I was in my own feelings and… I wasn’t being empathetic to yours. I thought…” he sighed, his voice trailing off in another shaky exhale.

“You thought what?” you encouraged him.

You heard him swallow as he considered if he should continue or not. “I thought I was enough.”

You closed your eyes. You weren’t sure how to refute that. Especially when you were already caught up in your own unearned self-loathing. You wished you had been enough for Chris. And now Jungkook was wishing he was enough for you to want to stay. The thing is… you did want to stay.

“It’s not about you not being enough,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s me. I just think I screwed up by coming up here.”

He scoffed. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“What I’m saying is… if I had known that you and I… What I’m saying is that I wish you and I hadn’t happened until after I was over Chris. I mean I am over him, but I’m not over what happened. And I need to deal with that. If I don’t take a minute to grieve, all of that is going to fester and I’ll take it out on you and myself… we won’t even stand a chance. I don’t want to look at you and think about them.”

“Do I make you think about them?”

You took a heavy breath that hitched almost like a sob. “When you say nice things to me, I feel like I can’t accept them. I hate it. I want to hear those things and I want to say those things to you… but right now, I can’t. I hate that they made me feel this way. I don’t… wanna feel worthless in front of you. Or feel like… all my worth is tied up in you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed in reluctant defeat. You could sense him nodding behind you as he came to understand. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m just gonna go home for a bit,” you continued, wanting to drive the point home. “I’m gonna get my shit together and maybe just cry or… something. Therapy, I don’t know. Everything I should have been doing this whole time I guess.” You chewed on your cheek as your mind became a hurricane - swirling with conflicting thoughts about exactly what you were going to do when he wasn’t around. “ I just need a little time. I know this sounds… however it sounds… but I’m leaving for a little so that you and I can have a chance.”

He huffed heavily in resignation. “I know what you’re saying makes sense. I support it. I’m just… afraid. What if it’s a mistake?”

“Maybe it will be,” you shrugged. “But plenty of mistakes can be corrected - if you’re willing.”

“Yeah,” he lamented, then he sat back in his stool. “You’re right. Like this dolphin,” he teased, raising his voice into something more relaxed and playful, trying to expel the tension if only just a touch. “I’m done. You’ll wanna top for the next little bit.”

You sniffed a laugh, but still felt the need to let him know that the tip wasn’t necessary.

“I’m not gonna be with anyone else,” you looked over your shoulder at him once more. “I really only want to be with you, I swear.”

He nodded softly to himself, “I know. Me too.” He began searching his drawer unit beside him for gauze and disinfectant. “Do you want to look before I cover it up?”

“No,” you shook your head firmly. “It’ll be all messy right now. I'll look when it’s healed.”

⁂

You stepped outside and onto the front porch, your Victoria’s Secret bag in hand. You found Jungkook, palms pressed over the banister, looking anxious and pensive. He stood straight when he heard you come out the door. You closed the distance between you, bringing your hand to rest above his elbow, while his came to rest over your hip.

You sucked on your lower lip as you tried to think of what else to say. Something you could give him as assurance.

“I don’t want to leave, Jungkook - but I'm going to. I don’t think it’s fair for me to ask you to wait, but–”

“I’ll wait,” he interrupted. “I’ll wait.”

“I just need some time. Can you give me just a little bit of time?”

“Yes,” he nodded fervently. He was much more confident and resolved compared to when you were conversing over the tattoo. There was a touch more hope in him, and you smiled meekly seeing it sparkle in him again. It made you feel better knowing you weren’t leaving him with any misconceptions. He took your bag from your hand, but didn’t motion to walk you to your car. “So,” he shrugged, “What do we do until then? Can we call each other?”

“Yes. I’d really like that.”

“I was thinking, we’re gonna be stopping in your neck of the woods in September,” he raised his eyebrow cautiously. “I have a few days in between stops. Maybe we can see each other then?”

“That would be great,” you smiled.

“And then, maybe after the tour… I could come to you? Stay with you for a weekend or something?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, then realized you weren’t even sure where the hell you would be living by then. You’d probably be squatting above your friend’s garage. “I don’t know where I’ll be by then but, we’ll figure it out.”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips as he thought about it, but a sadness began to creep its way back into it as well.

“I’m sorry,” you said, squeezing his arm. “I didn’t mean to come up here and… cause a big mess for you.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head and groaned, once again overtaken by guilt. “I don’t regret you coming here. It may have been a shitty circumstance and all, but I’m glad we got to do this. I’m just looking forward to the day we can try for real.”

“Me too,” you looked him hard in the eyes. “We will.”

When silence befell you both, you moved to make your way toward the driveway. Jungkook took your hand in his as he walked you down the stairs, along the path, and to your car.

He rested his arm over the opened driver's door, while you got the air conditioner running to cool down the sweltering interior. You then stood before him, preparing yourself for a final goodbye.

“Listen…,” he said, his voice resolved and determined. “I know everything between us is intense and crazy fast, but… the moment you’re ready… or even if you just change your mind…call me,” his brows pointed as he pleaded with everything he had. “I don’t care if you have baggage left to unload, I will be there for all of it. Call me. I will come to you, or hell, you can just drive back up here and show up unannounced - I don’t care. Even if you just want to get away again for a weekend or something.”

You gave him a small smile and a nod, then stepped forward, stretching up so you could kiss him softly on the lips. He closed his eyes, and you closed yours, and his hand drifted to your elbow and tightened firmly around the curve. He didn’t want to let you go - and all of you didn’t want him to let you go. But, with much reluctance, you broke the kiss and whispered “I’ll call you in a few days.”

⁂

The drive home was long. It took at least two hours to make the first forty-five minute jaunt, since at some points the tears in your eyes became to thick that it blurred your vision. You thought many times about turning around and throwing all caution to the wind. Leaving him did feel like a mistake - but so did staying. You wished you had gotten Mira’s phone number. Maybe she would have some sort of insight on what you were going through, and what you needed to do to get through it.

It was dark by the time you reached your county border. You were exhausted, and completely unable to shed more tears, or agonize anymore over your decisions. But as you rolled closer and closer to your house, and each town and hamlet sign you pass signaled the return to your life, the more you felt as if you were entering a foreign land, and not the home you were raised in.

You barely recognized your house when you pulled into the driveway. Chris’s car wasn’t parked there, and none of the lights were on. You held your breath as you stuck your key in the door and turned the lock - wondering if it still was indeed your home.

You stepped inside, and flicked on the light to find the place in a disarray. It wasn’t messy beyond belief… but Chris’s presence was definitely gone. There were a few empty boxes that he had left behind, and shelves and cabinets now had hollow spaces, and portions of the walls were bare from where Chris had run off with photos and frames.

It felt like a mausoleum. You weren’t sure of all your choices, but you were sure then that selling was the right thing to do. You wandered upstairs to your bedroom. The bed was clean and crisp, like it had been made up perfectly by a hotelier. But something about it still felt unclean.

Your first order of business was to shower - at least the bathroom felt like neutral territory. But afterward, instead of changing into your pajamas, and slipping under the covers, you grabbed a mint green sweatsuit from your drawer. Then you retrieved a blanket and spare pillow from the closet, and crawled on top of the beds pristine comforter, curled up and tried to will yourself to sleep. You tried not to think about Chris, and how you would fall asleep beside him in that very bed. You tried even harder to not think about how you could still be in Jungkook’s bed, and how you could have been waking up next to him in the morning.

When the next morning did come, you crept downstairs like some sort of spy, worried that you might catch something else you didn’t want to see waiting for you in your kitchen. But it was bare. In the light of day - the house no longer felt like a mausoleum. Instead, it just felt… like a house. A building. Four walls, paint, and stuff inside. Nothing in there to scare a person away, but nothing there to make them want to stay.

You grabbed the boxes that Chris had left behind, and went to work scouring the rooms first for things you were sure you wanted to keep when you moved. You had spent so many years curating the perfect memorabilia, decor, furniture, kitchenware - wanting to build the warmest and most welcoming home you could. You figured once you got started packing, you’d be at least five moving trucks into the process. But, to your dismay, as you held item after item in your hand, you realized you no longer cared for a lot of your possessions. You had moved on from them. That vase you bought at a flea market which you had loved so much… it was still beautiful, but… it could make someone else happy for a while. You could find a new vase. That airfryer you were gifted for Christmas, the one you used twice and never pulled out again - it served no purpose in your world.

You went from room to room, grabbing the things that still mattered to you, but in the end, instead of having five trailers to fill, you found yourself with only five boxes. You were even willing to part with most of your furniture - since a lot of it had been second hand to begin with. Non-negotiable items, however, was your dining table set - you spent a pretty penny on that and loved it - and your incredible shoe collection.

When all you had left to explore was your closet - which wasn’t too bad since you had done a big purge during your spring cleaning regiment - you started packing most items roughly into suitcases, while phoning in a favor to Agnes. She was a close acquaintance, as well a board member of a local humanitarian non-profit. Although it was against typical protocol, Agnes sent over a few employees with some boxes, a dumpster, and a moving truck. By noon, the staff had scoured through your beautiful things, and ran off with whatever they thought could be donated directly, or resold at the charity's second-hand store, and finally, helped move everything else into the dumpster.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel as you scanned over the barren house, but you didn’t expect to feel… light. Or, indifferent. But that was how you felt. Everything you had worked for and still valued was now piled into a neat stack of boxes and suitcases in the corner of the living room, under the dining table, next to the mattress which was the only other piece of furniture you really kept - and you only really kept it so you had something to sleep on.

“Now what?” you said to it, shrugging as if the mattress was going to speak to you. Now what were you going to do? You weren’t sure in the long term, but right then, a thought did come to you. Following its prompt, you grabbed your keys, stepped out into the damp night, and began walking down the street towards a block of nearby condos.

⁂

When Stephanie opened the door, she was pretty set on returning the favor you and Jungkook had given her. She stood solid in her door frame, showing no intention of letting you inside. That was fine - you didn’t want to go inside anyway. You didn’t intend on staying for long. You did scan what you could see of the apartment, checking for any signs of Chris, even though you hadn’t noticed his car.

“He’s not here,” she offered bluntly.

“He’s not staying here,” you stated not bothering to put the revelation in the form of a question.

“He’s moving west to live with his brother.”

“Hm,” you hummed, as you wondered if he had just lied to hurt you, or if things had broken between them so fast that he was moved in and out of her place in under a day. “I’m not here for him.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” she eyed you cautiously.

“I don’t really. I just have a question,” you paused to spit a tiny laugh as you thought about why you were here at all. “Thing is, I don’t know if I’ll believe your answer – but, I would like it if you would try to be honest.”

She didn’t say anything, and you took that as her compliance.

“Why?” you shrugged. “Why did you do it?”

She chewed on her cheek, and looked uncomfortably off into the dark night. “Because I could.”

“That’s it?” you raised an eyebrow and gave a surrendering shrug. “Just because you could, so you did?”

She shrugged in a move that was suppose to imply noncholents.

You squinted your eyes and craned your neck. “Did you really hate me that much?”

The way she looked at you then was like being stared down by a stranger. You didn’t recognize the woman who had been your friend for so long. She wasn’t bubbly or full of smiles and quick-witted comedy. There was something about this stranger that was full of pain, maybe embarrassment, but definitely antipathy.

“Have you always felt like this?” you prompted her again, questioning if your entire life together had all been a lie. You remembered then what Jungkook had said so long ago – about how people change, and how not everyone necessarily changes for the better. How long had it been since she had stopped being your friend?

She licked her teeth, and you could feel pressure rising as some force built within her, and wanted to explode with everything she had been holding back. “You got everything that I ever wanted, Y/N.”

You shook your head in confusion, you had no idea what she meant. What did you have that she didn’t?

“When I was struggling to make ends meet in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, you were buying a house.”

“This is about real estate?” your brows furrowed in disbelief.

“No. It’s not just about that. It’s about how… every time you visited me at school, all of my friends wanted to know who you were. They were my friends – I worked to have them.”

You scoffed. “I was shiny and new, Steph. My friends did the same thing when you came to visit me. Hell, you’re still even friends with some of them. It didn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t get it. People always like you. Why? You don’t do anything. You’re not...”

“What? What am I not?”

“You’re not anything special. You don’t have to work for it the way I do.”

“Work for what? Friends? I didn’t realize it was a competition. Everyone thought we were a package deal to begin with.”

“I didn’t always want to be a package deal with you.”

“So you fucked my fiancé because you didn’t want to be a package deal?”

“You don’t get it because everything just comes to you. Chris was with me,” she pointed her finger at herself. “He was mine. And then months later, he was living with you.”

“That was your doing, Steph. I didn’t know until this week that you were even interested in him. You’re the one who set us up!”

“Yeah, for a hook-up, not to get married.”

“You mean so that I couldn’t get to Jungkook,” you accused.

“Let’s talk about Jungkook. I told you that I loved him. He was all I ever wanted, and now he’s making doe-eyes at you.”

“I never even looked at him, Steph. Because I was loyal to you. I never would have. You didn’t need to set me up with your fuckbuddy. Do you…” your words caught in your throat as you pointed your fingers to your temples. You couldn’t believe how she had spun this narrative in her mind. You couldn’t understand how someone could be such a puppeteer of their own circumstance, and yet have the audacity to blame anyone other than themselves. You stopped yourself with an audible exhale, and dropped your hands to rest back over your hips. This was why you didn’t want to speak to her. You didn’t want to get into some shouting match where you had to defend yourself as to why you weren’t the villain because you were cheated on. You began to shake your head as you realized a few things. One, that she wasn’t going to accept responsibility. And, two, that all this wasn’t necessarily about you. You could see clearly now that it wasn’t so much hate she had for you, it was envy. It was… insecurity.

“Steph…” you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I never got anything handed to me.” You looked up as you punctuated your next words. “I worked hard. I gave up sleep and put in countless hours at the library. I didn’t spend money on spring break vacations or go out to the club every weekend. I pinched pennies and worked overtime every night for two years so I could afford a downpayment on a house. And you know what,” you looked away from her and laughed sardonically at yourself. “I was jealous of you. Because you were always out having fun, and living like some free spirit when I was always stressing about what was the smart thing to do. There were plenty of times when I envied you. But I was thankful to you because you pushed me to be out there. But… I also never hated you for the choices you made that I didn’t. Until now, of course. Although… honestly, maybe I should be thanking you for saving me from getting married to an asshole like Chris.”

Your backhanded gratitude seemed to ignite a flicker of rage in her. “I bet you are,” she nearly spat. “Because now, not only have you sent him running away from me, you’ve gotten Jungkook to hate me.”

Your brows furrowed and you tilted your head as you stared hard at her, trying to deduce if she was being fucking serious.

“It was all just so easy for you, wasn’t it,” she seethed.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that I’m not the problem here? That maybe lying to people and trying to manipulate them into liking you is what drove them away?”

She shrugged and shook her head, and you scoffed. There were so many things just wrong about what she had to say – she had to know it. But… once again you realized that it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t know. She didn’t care. She wanted you to hurt because she hurt herself. This was who she was – or at least who she had become. You didn’t have a friend to let go of anymore, your friend had been long gone. The realization was freeing.

Good riddance.

“You’re right,” you sighed, relenting with feigned sympathy. “It was pretty easy. For me it was easy. For you, though… You spent years scheming. You had to trick my fiancé - who still wants me back by the way – into sleeping with you, just so you could feel a modicum of worth for a tiny millisecond. All I had to do was make a single phone call to the love-of-your-life,” you felt an arrogant and wicked grin begin to pull at your lips. “And I found love, and respect, and trust me… really great fucking sex. It was pretty easy,” you nodded, then dropped your hands from your waist and began to turn as you prepared to walk away. “You’ll never understand what that is like, friend. Have a nice life, Steph,” you bid her a forever goodbye, then strode off into the night.

⁂

You planned on taking a long walk after the confrontation with Stephanie. You expected you’d be fuming, or in tears, or in need of some sort of emotional release. But… you felt… almost nothing. Relief, maybe? You perhaps didn’t reduce her to a shriveling pile of terrified or gravelling tears – but you saw what you needed to see. You understood what you needed to understand. You no longer felt… foolish, or… inferior. You felt done, and better off. So, instead of lapping the block over and over again – you just went home.

When you stepped into the living room, you were once again greeted by your minimal artifacts and a barren mattress on the floor. Once more you looked at it, as if between the time you had left and the time you returned, the foam had grown a voice and might now be able to give you a hint about what your next move should be.

What else was there to do?

You could call your father? You’d rather not.

You could call your real estate agent - but you could also just send her an email to put the house up sooner.

You could call your lawyer - but there was no need at the moment - not with Chris already gone.

You could phone a friend - but you didn’t know which one you wanted to speak to. Which one would grill you less about the end of your engagement?

You could call Jungkook… you said you’d would in a few days. It had been over 24-hours since you said goodbye to him - surely that counted as a few days.

“Oh!” you suddenly exclaimed into the room when thinking about the last time you saw Jungkook reminded you of your tattoo. You were supposed to take off the bandage long ago. Hell, you were supposed to have already applied a couple rounds of disinfectant.

You searched your purse for the bottle Jungkook had given you, then went to the front hall closet - which had sliding doors made of full length mirrors. You turned around, pulled up your shirt, and tucked its hem into your bra. You then slowly peeled of the large, white covering which had been protecting your tattoo, and braced yourself for what you would see.

What you found was… perfect. The profile of a tiger, styled in a mosaic of ocean blues, floral violets, silvery grays, and shimmering whites. The skin was still a touch puffy in places - but the wound was no longer tender. It had begun to heal, with no signs of any infections...

You began rubbing the ointment over your back, while you admired Jungkook’s work, then thought of Jungkook, and thought about what the tiger had covered. “What should I do,” you sighed absent-mindedly into the house, directing the question to the mattress or to the tattoo… or really any dead object that would listen.

The thing is… this time something answered you. Well… it was your own voice in your head pretending to answer you. But, as incorporeal as the conversation was, the message was clear.

There was nothing left for you here.

You had friends, sure. Your father. But… you could live without seeing them every week. What you needed was something new. Something more. What you wanted was someone special.

You took a long inhale through your nose, and exhaled even longer, until you had just enough breath in your lungs to speak out loud into the room, “What are you still doing here?”

You waited, but you couldn’t answer your own question. You knew you had your reasons - you knew what you had said were your reasons… but you couldn’t feel those reasons anymore.

You pulled your shirt back down, then returned the ointment to your purse. Then, you grabbed your car keys and clicked the unlock button twice. You then began the greatest Jenga challenge of your life, as you started packing every suitcase and box you could fit into the tiny backseat and trunk.

You stood in the frame of your front door, looking over the empty space a final time for anything you missed. “I’ll come for you” you made a promise to your dining table, then you clicked off all the lights, locked the door, and pulled yourself into your car.

After a quick stop at a gas station, and an even quicker stop at the 24-hour drive-thru coffee shop, you were once again back on the highway headed north.

⁂

You were impressed you managed to roll your car onto Jungkook’s property without having caught a single speeding ticket. You felt your heart lighten and also begin to pump when the house came into view through the ending tree line. It felt like you had never left. It felt like you had lived there for a long time. It felt right.

You scanned the lawn and the tall windows of the house for Jungkook as you pulled your car into park. You didn’t see him, but his truck was there. You felt nervous all over again – just like that first time a week ago when you pulled yourself into his driveway. But this time, you didn’t contemplate hiding in the car. You wanted to see him fourteen hours and ten seconds ago.

You grabbed the small suitcase of essentials which had been riding shotgun before you exited the car, then you made your way up the patio and stairs, resisting the urge to run or take the stairs four at a time.

When you reached the final two steps to the porch, you heard the squeak of the front door, and you looked up to find Jungkook, tepidly opening the door with a look of disbelief on his face.

Your lips morphed into a shy smile as his stunned expression reminded you that you had put him through an emotional tempest in a short period of time.

He stepped carefully across the threshold and onto the porch, and you met each other halfway. His hands found soft purchase over your hips, your freehand wrapped lovingly above his elbow, and you pressed your foreheads gently together. You could see then that his nose was a touch red, along with his eyes which were a touch puffy.

“I missed you,” he whispered the words in a long, low drawl, his palms subtly beginning to circle over your curves.

“I brought a real suitcase this time.”

“How long are you planning on staying?” he asked cautiously, although hope was laced through every single syllable.

“I was hoping I could stay for a really, really long time. If that’s okay with you?”

The corner of his mouth curled high. “I’m okay with that.”

You felt his fingers wrap over the handle of your suitcase, and you released your grip on it as he gently took it from your hand and placed it on the porch beside you. He then returned both hands to your torso, pulling you a touch closer, and you took the chance to wrap both arms around his shoulders, and stretch yourself so you could peer up at his face.

“Were you crying?” you asked softly as you inspected the telltale signs.

“Yeah,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, like he had been caught doing something dorky. “I cry when I’m really happy or really sad.”

“As you should,” you smiled, letting him know that you adored his tears as much as you adored his smile. You didn’t know a lot about him, and he didn’t know a lot about you - but, in spite of all that, in the arms of this stranger, you felt more comfortable and more safe than you had felt before. “I, ummm,” you tried to think of something dorky you could offer him, “Fart a lot when I’m on my period.”

“Ha!” he chuckled loud, and his face lit up with a smile so wide and infectious, that your smile was forced to match it.

“Okay,” he smoothed out the line of his mouth and nodded. “I snore really bad when I drink whiskey. I sound like a sea lion.”

“Noted. Umm… My Dad is coming up next week with my dining table. It’s nicer than yours. And I hope he doesn’t bring his wife because I hate her.”

“My mom and stepdad are retiring next year, then they’re gonna build somewhere up here. So they’re gonna be in our faces all the time - but they’re cool.”

“Mm hm, mm hm,” you acknowledged. “I wanna build a greenhouse over there,” you turned your face towards the treeline and pointed. Instead of Jungkook’s gaze following where you were looking, he pulled you just a touch closer, pressing his nose into your hair. “So we can have fresh veggies all winter.”

“I don’t like tomatoes,” he confessed.

“That might be a deal breaker,” you teased. He pulled back to look down at you again, and you tightened your arms around him once more.

“I should probably tell you that I watch football on Sunday’s,” he quirked his eyebrow.

You gasped, “Well that might really be a problem, because I watch golf.”

His face skewed into a comical look of surprise. “Really?”

“Yup,” you nodded, pulling him down towards you, bringing your mouths closer and closer together, until your lips were barely grazing over each other’s as you spoke. “And I’m a really good golfer, so you should start practicing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He closed the millimeters of space between you, and you sighed into him as he pressed his lips to yours. Your torso felt invaded by a cluster of exploding fireworks, and everywhere your bodies touched felt like erogenous zones. You could have kissed him forever like that on the porch. Every move of his lips felt like it represented something he wanted to say. Every soft moan from you was a response. The kiss couldn’t even be classified as sexual, because it had nothing to do with physical desire. It was about intimacy, and declaration.

Your lips parted, and once again you were forehead to forehead, your bodies pressed tightly together as you both quietly panted for air.

“Anything else I should know before I come inside?” you asked him, tilting your head back so you could gaze into his eyes.

He shrugged in surrender as he thought, then said, “Just that I love you. And I look forward to loving you more everyday.”

Your lips pulled up, the words making you feel like you had been hit by a tidal wave. But instead of needing to retaliate against them, you felt wholly comforted by them. They felt real.

“Me too,” you replied. “I love you too.”

Go to Epilogue.

#bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jjk x y/n

[imwriting0verhere]

Love Again

Chapter 7

“And that’s why I want to raise a toast to this lad right here, Sam” Owain raises his pint and claps a hand down on my shoulder “You’ll have America in your pocket in to time. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. And I know you’ll smash this too” he exclaims loudly and the room erupts in cheers and approval. I’m sat in the Low Lights with the lads, management and friends, all excited for our big North America take off in a few days. I raise my Guinness in acceptance and to finally start our festivities. “Aye, let’s get it boys!” I shout and look at my band in the process. They all have their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, pints in hand and the biggest grins on their faces. “We’re off to America” Dean shouts while the others are just wolf whistling and shouting along. I can’t wait for the next few months with them!

Saying goodbye to Shields and our friends and family for the time being, will be the hardest though. I know that Dean would take Reagan with him in a heartbeat. Those two are getting married later this year. I can’t imagine how that must feel, to be apart for so long this close to agreeing to spend the rest of your lives together. At least Reagan has Maple to keep her company. Dean only has us.  

Tom is coming with us, but not Heidi, my little sister. I’m gan miss her and her wonderful quirkiness. And now that Y/N is gone as well, I hope she’ll be okay with her two favourites’ gone.

My mam is mainly proud of me finally taking this step with the boys. But I know she will always worry and want to make sure I’m okay and taking care of myself while on tour. That’s why she insisted to be here tonight as well. Even though we’re all going to be absolutely mortal by the end of this.

Even Johnny, Lou and Jack are around to celebrate the night with us. Sometimes I feel like I wouldn’t even be where I am now without the older boys. Jack and Johnny have been encouraging me since I started playing and making music. Playing buskers nights together and always there for a good suggestion if I got stuck on a melody or lyric.

“Wor kid, who would’ve thought eh” Lou teases while ruffling up my hair “Not me like” Johnny agrees with a smirk. Both lads sit down with me after having just come back from a ciggy break outside. “Piss off aye” I shove his arm away from my head but laugh along non the less.

“If you still need a support band, yer know where to find us”

“Nah we’re all sorted now, thanks mate” I smile at Lou’s teasing.

“You sure yer want to start playing shows with this dickhead like? That’s gonna be the most annoying thing Bonds” I say over to Johnny. He just shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his beer “A mean I’m technically still in with Van and the lads, might have to ring ‘em and settle some new tour dates” with that typical Bondy look of mirth he looks over at me, completely ignoring his shocked friend

“Oh fuck yous!” Lou whines and gets up from his seat next to me before looking at us one last time and dramatically storming off. Johnny and I just cackle at him and clink our drinks together.

“You make sure you won’t forget about us like” Johnny looks at me with a very serious and yet puppy like expression.

“Nah I wouldn’t dream of it sunshine” I reply just as dramatic and throw my arms around him in a deep hug. That gets us into another laughing fit that we eventually have to part from to catch our breaths.

After a few more minutes of chit chat Johnny turns more serious again.

“I’m actually glad I’ve got you alone for a minute. I wanted to have a chat with you about somethin” he sits up straighter and turns his full attention towards me

“Have you had the chance to talk to Y/N since she left? Or heard from her?” he asks and I can see a bit of concern in his eyes.

“Why, has somethin happened? Or she said something?” I was getting a little nervous at what she might have told Johnny. I know the two are good friends too but would she sell me out to one of our close friends and tell him what we argued about?

“Not much like. Just mentioned a fight” I take a nervous sip at that

“She seemed a bit upset that you weren’t at her farewell. But Sam, I don’t even want to get into it. A just want to make sure you talk to each other about whatever the hell happened.” I’m relieved to hear him say that. And I can’t take him amiss because he’s just looking out for his two friends. Typical Johnny Bond.

“Aye, A’ve actually just called her a couple day ago but she was busy getting ready for her first gig. So we basically just said a quick hello.” Johnny hums at that, seemingly satisfied with my answer. Before I know it I open up more.

“To be honest a feel a bit shite aboot not being there” I lower my gaze at my confession. “I’ve just been so busy with my own prep and making time for my girlfriend.” Sighing I continue “And the fight Y/N and I had didn’t help I guess. But a should’ve been there.” I run my hand through my hair frustratingly. What the hell happened that I wouldn’t be there for my best friend? Shame was slowly starting to creep into me the more I talked to Johnny about it.

“Look, it’s done mate. Now you can only make it up to her and make sure it doesn’t happen again” he puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. Always the voice of reason.

“And so the girlfriend aye. How is that going? She coming with you?”

“Ehm” I chuckle a bit surprised he’d want to talk about Amber and I. “It’s good aye. We’re having a good time. It’s, it’s nice, solid. She makes me happy” Johnny smiles at me and I’m glad I’m having a proper talk about my recent relationship updates with someone that doesn’t judge me or snap at me.

“But ehm, she ain’t coming with us. You know how crazy tour life gets, a don’t want to drag her into that, especially so far away from home”

We sit together for another 10 minutes or so before I go and find my mam to spend some time of the night with her.

At around 1am most of our guests have left and the last of us get ready to call it a night as well and make our ways home.

Giving Heidi and Liv a big hug, Tom leaves with them to walk them home safely. Drew and Holly stand outside with Joe until he’s finished his last smoke. Before he leaves Johnny comes up to me again and embraces me in a big brotherly hug. He’s pretty wasted now too and seems to have less of a filter than just a few hours ago when we were talking.

“Promise me Sam you’ll talk to Y/N/N. A’ll check up on her and make sure yous made up” he pats me on my head and says one last thing before turning to leave with Lou “She doesn’t deserve any mistreatment or heartache. Yer hear me Fender: She’s too good for that” blowing me a kiss and Johnny is gone into the night.

I just chuckle at his drunken antics. I turn towards my mam and link her arm into mine “Reet, let’s go home!”        

#sam fender fanfic #sam fender imagines #sam fender fanfiction #sam fender x reader #johnny bond #sam fender #love again

[the1975attheirverybest]

Ok I have a really sad one but what about mattys been home for like a year after baby was born and you both agree that you're ready for the boys to go back on tour. You facetime every evening before baby goes to bed and usually they're playing with toys or sometimes matty reads them their bedtime story over facetime. Well this time baby decides to take their first steps on facetime and walk over to Matty and he is equally crying with joy/pride and sobbing because he's missing out on milestones and feels like the worst father ever

🌷🌷

Awwwww babyyyy 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Matty has definite got into a somewhat silly habit of buying doubles of the children’s books that he gets his baby cuz he wants to have copies with him when he goes on tour. So that whenever he calls, he can let his baby choose whichever book they gotta read for bedtime. He sings a little lullaby after and everything.

And on days off in between shows, or in the tour bus, or their way between cities etc he like calls just randomly if he knows his wife is gonna be home and asks to be put on FaceTime and have the phone propped up somewhere in the living room so he can feel like he’s there with them. He just hangs out and watches his kid play and eat dinner and play with mommy.

So, one day, they’re both to put baby down for the night. But the kid is a bit too hyper to wanna go to bed. There are toys strewn on the floor everywhere, and they’ve gotten into this habit…you know when kids are first learning to walk, how they’ll first learn to use the edges of furniture to move around? Like they’ll hold on the edge of the coffee table and then the side of the couch or something to be stood up and sort of slinking around? Yeah, so it’s mainly that. Just baby trying to be brave and move around with the assistance of the furniture and whatever is available. For a while, both parents attention is on the child as they try to mentally and emotionally prepare for a difficult bedtime. They know there will be resistance. Maybe some tears. Matty keeps saying “two more minutes and then we really have to go to sleep. Mommy’s tired she deserves some quiet time.”

Then, the conversation kinda drifts to something Mundane. Like, Maybe Matty is talking to his wife about what him and Hann did that day or what sightseeing he wants to do once they get to their next city. But as they’re chatting, they both notice baby start to let go of the edge of the table and walk independently. They’re both trying to alert each other to what’s going on but they’re too excited to form full sentences so it’s just like “matty! Oh my god!!! Walking!! It’s happening!” And a bunch of squeaking from both of them. When baby makes it to the other end of the couch (just a few small steps later) they both clap and yell out “yaaaayyyy you did it babbyyyy” and start making up silly songs about their kids first steps and hype them up.

But as soon as they stop, and instead of complete silence, Matty’s sniffling fills the air. Mom is teary eyed too so at first she thinks it’s just happy tears. But then she looks at the screen and matty is full on crying. She makes a joke about how he’s the most emotional person she’s ever met but that’s okay because she finds his soft gentle side really attractive.

Matty eventually shakes his head and tries to wipe his tears with the back of his hand. “It’s not that…it’s just” and he pulls into the camera view a little onesie of the baby’s that he’d stolen to take on tour. He’s thinking about how by the time he gets back 6 months from now baby will have outgrown the onesie. “We’re gonna need to buy baby shoes now. And not those cute decorative ones. Real ones. For walking. A dad should fuckin be there for his child’s first shoes!” It dawns on him that this is his fate now. Baby’s first steps, first shoes, first words, soon it’s gonna be first day of school, and recitals, and birthdays, and what’s next? Graduations too? “Fuck, I’m not saying I don’t love my job. I’ve very very fortunate to still be doing this decades later. But….i just don’t think it’s fair. Parents shouldn’t have to work. Like ever.”

She tried to comfort him and tell him that she works too and she feels bad that her kid has to spend any amount of time without her during the day. That sometimes she sits at work, checking the time, knowing that usually when nap time is over, and that her child is going to wake up to someone who isn’t her makes her sad. “But it’s good for kids to see their parents work! We’re setting a good example. Ambition and drive are important! Besides, you’re here! You saw this and just cuz it’s over a phone screen, doesn’t mean it’s any less memorable. Do you really think that you’re going to forget the day that you saw your little baby take their first steps????”

“Well, I won’t now. Cuz it’s also always going to be the day I wept like my little baby over the phone a thousand miles away from you.”

“Tell you what? We can buy the new shoes together. You go to the store and pick them out. Mail them.”

“It’s not the same thing as-“

“Fine, fine. We’ll stay a few extra days the next time we fly in? Maybe we can take a trip? Every shoe store in town. We’ll test them out and everything.”

“Oh yes, yes! Do you think they still make squeaky ones?”

“Those cause headaches, Matty.”

“Or the laser ones. You know the ones that light up? Oh I used to love these on Louis. Just a little kid wobbling about shooting laser beams from their feet.”

“As long as they don’t make any disruptive noises-“

“Adidas trainers. The most comfortable. Hey, let’s all get matching ones. All three of us. It’d be cute!”

#🌷anon

[depressedhouseplant]

Just Fucking Write - Day 72

Prompt: Fendi

A/N: This one has been in the drafts for a while (obvs) so I just added to it. Yes, it’s another Juyeon ship. Sue me 😝

Juyeon’s bones hurt. In spite of staying in one of the nicest hotels he’d ever seen and upgraded on both flights thanks to Fendi, he was so tired his bones hurt. He tried to smile and wave at the cameras as he walked through the airport.

“Welcome home, baby,” Younghoon greeted him when he opened the car door. Juyeon almost dropped his bags.

“What?” he blinked.

“After your comments on the live, I decided to surprise you,” the older boy smiled. “Get in before the cameras get too curious.”

The staff member took Juyeon’s luggage as he got in.

“You look terrible,” Younghoon observed.

“Thanks. You look fantastic,” Juyeon snorted.

“Let me rephrase, you look exhausted,” he amended.

“I am exhausted. I have no idea why. I’m used to big time changes. I’ve gone by myself to events,” Juyeon sighed.

“Not by yourself to another country when we’ve been touring for months,” Younghoon added. “Also in spite of what your MBTI says, I suspect you’re actually an introvert. Did you know anyone else there?”

“Not well. Everyone was nice though,” Juyeon told him.

“How about a nice long shower when we get home,” Younghoon suggested.

“Will you be in there too?” the younger boy asked.

“Of course. Someone has to massage all those sore spots,” Younghoon leaned in and kissed him.

“I missed this,” Juyeon said against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Fendi can pay for me to come with you next time,” Younghoon teased, running his hands under Juyeon’s shirt. “Unless you didn’t make a good impression.”

“Excuse you, I always make a good impression,” Juyeon poked Younghoon’s side. His boyfriend smiled against his lips.

“I pulled rank and told everyone to make themselves scarce when we got back,” Younghoon said.

“Kim Younghoon actually used his age to his advantage? You must have missed me more than I thought,” Juyeon dropped his head on Younghoon’s shoulder.

“It had to happen eventually,” the older boy laced their fingers together. Juyeon started to doze off as Younghoon ran his thumb over his knuckles.

“I feel like plane,” Juyeon mumbled.

“Almost there,” Younghoon assured him. “I told Eric to get your bags when we got back.”

“Thank you,” Juyeon yawned. The car stopped and Younghoon helped Juyeon out. The youngest was bobbing on the balls of his feet waiting for them.

“Hi hyung!” he hugged Juyeon.

“Hi Ericcie,” he hugged the younger boy back.

“I’ll get your bags and I left a clean pair of pajamas for you with Changmin hyung,” Eric stepped back. Younghoon snorted.

“Thank you,” Juyeon smiled.

“You look tired. See you tomorrow, yeah?” Eric said.

“Yeah,” Juyeon agreed. He was living for that hot shower and Younghoon’s hands on him. Eric seemed to get the hint and quickly took Juyeon’s bags inside and up the elevator.

“I kinda miss being all on one floor,” Younghoon mused as they rode the next one up.

“I know Sangyeon doesn’t,” Juyeon replied.

“I think if he had his way he’d be living on a desert island with no wifi,” Younghoon countered. The door dinged open and Younghoon steered Juyeon through the apartment to his room. “Though I like having to not share my bathroom with anyone.”

“Got stuck with an ugly mic, but got your own bathroom,” Juyeon flopped on the bed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Younghoon rolled his eyes as he began undressing Juyeon. The younger boy dutifully rolled over and moved his limbs when needed. When Juyeon was only in his underwear, Younghoon went to start the shower. “Ready?”

“Absolutely,” Juyeon replied. The hot water felt amazing on his sore body. He released an obscene groan when Younghoon began massaging his shoulders.

“They’re gonna think I’m fucking you in the shower,” Younghoon joked.

“This is way better than sex at this very moment in my life,” Juyeon let his eyes close.

“I’m not going to take that as a commentary on my skills in bed,” Younghoon moved down to Juyeon’s back.

“You know it’s not,” Juyeon leaned into Younghoon’s touch. He grunted when Younghoon found a particularly stubborn knot in his back.

“Just say when,” Younghoon told him. It was that odd space between pain and pleasure that Juyeon never quite knew what to do with.

“I love you,” he sighed as the muscle finally released.

“I love you too,” Younghoon replied, turning Juyeon to face him.

“I mean it. Not just because you massaged my back in the shower,” Juyeon said.

“And I mean it back,” Younghoon smiled and kissed him. Juyeon desperately wanted to do something, anything, with Younghoon but his body wasn’t having it. “Later, babe. You need to rest. I’m not offended.”

“Promise?” Juyeon asked.

“I promise,” Younghoon replied. He turned off the water and helped Juyeon out of the shower, drying him off and putting him in the bed. Younghoon quickly dried himself off, climbed in behind Juyeon, and turned out the light.

“Sleep, my love,” he kissed the back of Juyeon’s neck.

“Mmkay,” Juyeon squeezed Younghoon’s arms and fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

#just fucking write 2k24 #the boyz fanfic #the Boyz Bbangju #younghoon x juyeon

[kirk-says-wah]

hihi!! do you think you could do a james/jason pairing with the plot being something like hurt/comfort type thing?? thank youuu🩷🤞🏼

Thank you for the request! ❤️

You can also read it here

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

This is definitely not a good idea, Jason knows this, but fuck if James will listen.

James had managed to persuade him down to the skate park before rehearsal, which wasn’t an easy feat considering what happened the last time James went skate boarding. But Jason cracked eventually, he can only take so much of James’s whining, and had followed with his own skateboard in tow, if only to get James to just shut up.

They’ve been skating a while now, mostly on the smaller ramp, and nothing drastic has happened apart from scraping a few knees.

Which is how they’ve ended up here, at the top of the tallest ramp, James itching to go down it, and Jason knows this isn’t a good idea.

Skating over the smaller ramp is one thing, but taking on one twice the size when they’re in the middle of a tour just isn’t practical.

James sighs, all dramatic, rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. It’s not even that high.”

Which is a total lie because it is, in fact, very high. Jason just bites his lip, eyes darting between James and the bottom of the ramp.

“Promise me you’re not gonna break something this time.”

James laughs, flashes a cheesy grin as he mounts the board.

“No promises.”

And then he’s off, flying down the ramp at high speed, and Jason has to watch through his fingers as James skates across the ramp. He manages it down in one piece though and Jason can feel all the weight lift from his shoulders. God, he hopes James doesn’t ask to do that again. Jason doesn’t think his heart can handle it.

But of course, James does, climbing back up the steps to meet him at the top again, a hand sliding around Jason’s waist.

“See? It wasn’t even that bad.”

“That’s because you didn’t have to watch,” Jason grumbles, though James just laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Anyway, it’s your turn,” James says, squeezing his hip, and Jason’s head whips around comically fast.

“What?! I don’t fucking think so.”

“Oh, go on,” James pleads, ducking to rest his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “I promise once you get going it’s fine.”

Jason really doesn’t like the sound of it, and looking back down at the ramp makes him queasy and lightheaded.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” he tries, but James just shakes his head, urging him closer to the edge.

“Go on. I’ll wait for you at the bottom.”

And with that, James goes back down again, looking effortless as he skates to the bottom of the ramp before getting off. He stands at the side, holding up a thumbs up, and Jason lets out a shaky breath.

He can do this. He can fucking do this.

He mounts the edge of the ramp, steadying himself with both feet before he tilts forwards and bends his knees.

He glides down smoothly, the wind making his hair push out behind him as he skates down the ramp, and just when he reaches the bottom, he loses his balance.

The board continues on its path and Jason falls back, landing heavily on his left arm with a sickening crack and he cries out, falling on his ass as the skateboard flies from under him.

For a moment, his vision is black, but then James is in his view, trying to hold him up. Jason whimpers as pain snakes through his arm, feeling like lightning bolts every time the wind brushes it.

James is murmuring softly, cradling his bad arm in his hands.

“Shit, Jase,” James mumbles, sitting behind Jason to keep him sitting up, his strong chest planted firmly against his back.

Jason can feel tears run down his cheeks, and he sobs, the pain too much, twisting to hide his face in James’s chest.

James just shushes him, smooths a hand over his hair.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” James says softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He waits for Jason to calm down and get his bearings before finally standing up. He helps Jason stand up, an arm around his waist as Jason keeps his bad arm tucked against his own chest, trying to not to cry out as the sudden change has his arm protesting.

James brings him in closer, cradling Jason by the back of his neck as Jason sniffs, his arm now all swollen and throbbing.

“I knew this wasn’t a good idea,” Jason says, all choked up, and James can’t help but wince.

“Cmon, I’ll get you to the hospital. Hopefully it won’t be that bad.”

Jason just nods, and James offers a small smile, giving him a soft kiss to try and wipe the frown from his face.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #asks #james/jason

[wiltf]

orion gives you the same old warning about smoking as he always does when you duck out. but you still haven’t figured out if he knows knows, and is ribbing you — or if this is one of the few things he genuinely hasn’t worked out.

same weird thought, that you have every time. like a lil worm, crawling in the space between your ears, while you tap the bottom of the pack. cigarette between your fingers, chilling there like an old friend. hey, it says, when will you actually light me? and you consider that thought for what feels like an eternity.

instead, you’re in the dingy alley, twirling that same cigarette now. up and over your knuckles, a half-hearted apology sent iris’ way. eventually you’ll ditch it, or palm it off to someone who happens to walk by. they won’t remember asking, and you will be able to return, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

lighter in your other hand, fished out of your jacket. emblazoned with a four-leaf clover, electric green but not flaring. couple more times. still nothing.

huh. you hadn’t planned for this.

what was it that rowan said? chaos theory? did you hear that right, on the way out? tilt your head, left and right, as you try with all your might to get the shitty lighter to work. maybe this was the work of orion, trying to stop you. and you want to say, orion! let me just bask in the evil that is secondhand smoke!

instead, what you hear is the very unfortunate decrying of a teenager trying to give directions for a photo. you’d know that tone anywhere, because you had employed it more than once on se—some poor individual. snort, then, as you watch the family comedy routine take place. honestly, at this time of night, it would be better for the would-be photographer to step onto the road.

at that moment, your light finally seems to work, burning the tip of your finger. you hiss, shaking it out, lighter and smoke dropping to the dingy sidewalk. well, you were planning on ditching the cigarette anyway, and you swoop down, lighter safely in your hand. thumb following that raised clover like an old friend, when you notice your little accident had attracted the attention of the teenager.

the enthusiasm is half a second of endearing, but you manage to pull apart her words. big fan. leading fan site. maya has a shine in her eye that reminds you of the first time you went to a misfit alley concert, except she’s wrapped up in something not too dissimilar to what you were wearing now — jean jacket, boots, dress. super fan with your damn favourite flower tucked behind her ear.

it’s all sweet and shine. recognise the father — sebastian, cute, couldn’t order to save his life — and indulge in a photo or two. pose, like you hadn’t just burnt your fingers and weren’t about to spend some time ruminating on a certain number’s appearance at your audition. wasn’t about to consider hitting that drunk dial in the next three point five hours.

wasn’t gonna somehow figure out how to walk home, drunk, sad and alone.

you’re a mess. you’re smiling into the lens. fingers in that fucking old rock ’n’ roll pose, tongue out. maya is all squeals and bounces and texts in a flurry. it’s so easy to keep your eyes on her, because there is something in there you are too young to think you’ve lost, but already too old to go back to.

seven second breather, between the photos and the texting. always with that punchy number, as maya talks about the first EP. the first real one, that still contains—

yeah, well, they say you never forget your first.

crack a smile, because sebastian gives you a look. can’t let the man know how much of a shithead sad girl you are, even when maya emphasises about following you on tour — if you win. if chaos theory doesn’t intercept.

if the stars align and you can sleep at night, knowing it’ll be months of—

god, fuck, jen! shut up! talk to the kid!

“we have to get our results first, which—“ hitch a thumb over your shoulder, “i should probably check out.”

“right, yeah. maya, we should go, too.” a nod, neutral, understanding. respect the man, fear the kid.

as the sparkle in her eye doesn’t go, when perhaps, it’s the most shy she’s been. pulling the flower from the tangle of hair, and holding it out at such an angle that it’s something you’re half expecting her to take back.

but she doesn’t, instead you’re pretty sure she damn near collapses when you tuck it right back where it belongs. “definitely suits you better than me, tonight, i think.”

treat yourself like a toddler now, telling yourself to wave goodbye, as maya perhaps suffers a heart palpitation or two. as her father looks on, torn between smiling at the excitement bubbling from his daughter, and just what he might get himself into.

back into the safety of cement and dim lighting and the clover, ridged, safe, under your thumb. chaos theory. perfume and cigarette smoke and chaos theory. carry that mantra with you, back to the waiting room, wondering just how late you might be.

#infamous if #oc: jennifer lamb #c: sebastian holland #c: maya holland #post: fanfic

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Love your writing! If you’re still taking prompts, how about Midge/Lenny pre-get-together and *gasp* there’s only one bed? 😳

Let's call this an alternate ending to 2x10

Here's how it happens:

She sticks around for the Steve Allen gig, and Lenny gets a big, heartfelt hug when he comes off stage, which, to be honest, Midge wasn't expecting to give him, but...he needed it.

She kind of did, too.

And she has every intention of saying her goodbyes, finding a cab, and heading to Joel, with her head full of feelings about winding up...

Well...

Alone.

The problem being that when she and Lenny step out of the television studio, it is dumping rain, there are no cabs, and the subway looks packed with people. Getting anywhere will be impossible.

"Come with me!" Lenny calls over the loud rain around them, and she pulls her umbrella out, lifting it over her head as she follows him, trying to lift it over his too, but he's walking fast, and it's hard to cover both of them.

Eventually, they get to a small walk-up, and Lenny leads her inside and to one of the small apartments.

"It's not much," he apologizes. "I gave up my actual apartment, but I keep this place for emergencies. At six bucks a month, it's a steal."

She shivers as he leads her inside. The space is small, but clean, with a corner for a kitchen, a couple of chairs and a table, a neat-looking bed and a doorway to what Midge assumes is a restroom.

"We can wait things out here," he tells her.

"We could have gone to a bar, or a diner," Midge offers, a little amused.

"We could have," Lenny concedes, as he disappears into the restroom, emerging with a couple of towels. "But they don't have these."

She catches the one offered to her, and sheds her coat before wrapping it around herself, trying to dry off. "Thanks."

"Sure," he nods, pulling off his suit jacket and using his own towel.

They warm up and dry off in companionable silence, and once Lenny finishes, he looks over at her.

"Thank you," he says. "For coming to this thing. It was very kind."

Midge smiles at him warmly. "It was no problem. It was fun."

He nods and gathers the towels up. "I uh...I don't have a tv or anything...it might be a little boring until this rain lets up."

"That's okay," she says. "I uhm...I actually have a lot no my mind, so the quiet is okay."

"Yeah?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows. "Care to share?"

Midge takes a breath. "I got a good. A good one."

He smiles slowly. "Do tell."

"Shy Baldwin wants me to tour with him," Midge tells him.

"No shit. That's incredible."

"Thanks."

Silence falls over them for a moment, before Lenny narrows his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

She doesn't respond right away, crossing her arms.

"Come on, I poured my guts out to you the other night, it's your turn," he says, grinning at her a little.

"I just-I'm gonna be alone," she shrugs. "There's not gonna be someone willing to wait for me until I get back from stuff like this. Certainly not Benjamin. And Joel- my ex, Joel - would never."

He gazes at her understandingly, letting her talk.

"I chose this," she goes on. "I am choosing this life and I don't regret it and this opportunity is amazing but it means I'm leaving behind a lot of the things I thought I wanted. You were right. I can't go back to jell-o molds. But I guess I didn't realize what that really meant until tonight."

"That's not what I meant," he says gently. "I mean, it is, kind of, but -"

She looks at him expectantly. "You're not wearing your wedding ring anymore. Your marriage fell apart, too?"

"Yeah, but it's been falling apart ever since we got married," Lenny admits. "We weren't the people either of us wanted each other to be."

Midge nods and takes a seat on the bed. "You don't feel alone?"

He shrugs and sits next to her, keeping a good bit of distance between them. "Sometimes," he admits. "But not all the time."

She looks at him and takes a breath. "I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

"You're not," he tells her. "Or am I chopped liver?"

Midge laughs a little and crosses her arms. "I don't know that this rain is gonna let up any time soon."

"Yeah, might go all night."

"You don't mind me staying?"

"You can even have the bed."

"No. I can just- there are chairs."

Lenny rolls his eyes. "Midge, it is not often I am overcome with chivalry. I would not turn it down if I were you."

"Lenny, we can share the bed."

"Are you a kicker?"

"Yes, you'll love it."

He laughs a little - really laughs, and Midge decides she likes that sound.

******

She wakes up before dawn, and Lenny is sleeping on the other side of the bed, over the covers, back turned to her.

Midge takes a breath and sits up, leaning over him. "Hey. I gotta get going."

He rolls onto his back and gazes up at her in the dim light of pre-morning, his eyes sleep-dazed. "Yeah," he whispers back. "You gonna be okay?"

She nods, but doesn't move. "Thank you. For last night."

"Thank you for last night," he says. "It meant a lot. You showin' up. I didn't put your name on the list because I didn't think you would."

"Well now you know me better than that," she tells him, her hand doing something she doesn't expect as it strokes through his curly hair.

His grin falls as they stare at each other, and suddenly she's leaning in, kissing him slowly, his hands reaching up to hold onto her hips. The kiss deepens as Lenny sits up, and Midge's arms wrap around his neck.

Lenny smells like rain and aftershave and it's a nice combination and oh my god, what is she doing?

They pull apart, both breathing heavily as his hands stroke up her back slowly.

"Now you know me a lot better," she quips, and finds herself being kissed more passionately.

She had imagined that she'd wind up with Joel like this. That she would show up at his little place and they would have sex that would either mean something or it wouldn't, and then she'd disappear into the night, and instead, Lenny's hand is trailing down her leg and up her skirt and why does this feel so right?

"Midge, if you wanna go, you should tell me right now," he warns as he kisses down to her neck. "Because things are very quickly getting out of hand."

The feel of his thumb, stroking her thigh is unexpectedly tender, and when he lifts his head, she stares into his eyes, dazed still, but with heat and want instead of sleep.

And she kisses him again.

*****

The kiss goodbye is soft, and surprisingly sweet. He slips a piece of paper with a couple of phone numbers on it into her handbag the same way he'd slipped that joint into another one the year before.

"Give me a call from the road?" he asks hopefully.

Midge smiles and kisses his cheek. "You got it."

#fic #au #alternate 2x10 #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny #Midge Maisel #Lenny Brue