#the-backstage-agit-au

[the-backstage-agit-au]

the last sketches on bs (i guess)

#A Glitch in Time #AGiT #BackStage #BS #the-backstage-agit-au #backstage_2022 #Luke #Snatcher #Moon

[ottererpop]

pretty moon among the stars tonight <3 this moonjumper belongs to @the-backstage-agit-au !! one of my faves its so soft

#art tag #the-backstage-agit-au #moonjumper

[psychedelic-ink]

— jumpsuit.

pairing: circus ringmaster!tasm!peter parker x animal rights activist!fem!reader

genre: dark circus au, enemies to lovers, smut

word count: 3.3k

warnings: enemies to lovers, peter's kinda sus, fourth wall break in like one sentence, mentions of animals being in cages, rough make-out session, mild dirty talking, hair pulling, vaginal s.ex

summary: you're an animal rights activist who has been closing down many circuses in your are due to animal cruelty, except for one: Spider’s Enchanting Circus. During a show you decide to sneak to take some pictures but the ringmaster is waiting for you.

a/n: this was written for @spidervee 's april is for au's writing event! Been wanting to write something like this for ages and finally this gave me motivation to do so, so thank you!! and a special thank you to @leydileyla who beta read this <33

I couldn't help myself and made a playlist for this click here to listen!

You despise all of it. 

You despise the smell of fresh popcorn, the scent of sweet cotton candy, the joyful chitter-chatter of the people, the laughing children who play far away from their mother’s long skirts. Every little bit of it makes your gut wrench in agony. You take in quick, sharp breaths and look up. The moon shines bright upon you all, the glow of the moonlight elevating everyone’s skin with a soft glow. A child bumps into you and you scorn at the young boy, hence making him run away with fear. You are not the monster here. The monster who you seeked and wished to bury was hiding amongst the comfort of his large, banal tent. The Spider’s Enchanting Circus lays ahead, red and white artificial fiber moving with the wind, mimicking the waves of a desolate sea. 

Quickly, you begrudgingly buy a ticket, the prices raised up due to your last minute purchase. You feign a smile at the seller and tip your hat, adjusting it so it would cover more of your features. You can’t afford anyone recognizing you now or later. Swiftly, you mix into the crowd, looking at them all with disgust as they were fooled by the colorful lights and sparkles of a well put on show. 

The true horror is beyond those curtains– the cruelty the animals must suffer under the hands of greedy humans. 

The Spider’s Enchanting Circus was the last circus still open for business. It aggravated you. The rest you had managed to close down with your colleagues, they had all gone down like domino stones, but not this one. The spider is too tricky. No photographing is allowed inside, no lingering after shows, no snooping around– Those animal rights activists who did manage to sneak around, got caught, came back the next day dazzled, saying there was no harm being done to animals. You believe the reason for this to be bribery. But who knows? Tonight you will find out everything.

With the rest of the crowd, you scurry inside. You’re highly agitated, annoyed whenever you see the twinkle inside of other’s eyes. You lift your gaze away from the ground, finally looking up as the corridor ends– 

This is the first time you see the inside. 

You hate to admit, but your heart begins to beat faster, fluttering in your chest as the breath is knocked from your lungs. The inside is huge, much bigger than you anticipated, fairy lights decorating above, mimicking the endless stars that decorate the night sky. You look ahead towards the stage, another stranger bumps into you, muttering about you blocking the way. Red and blue smoke covers the stage but you can faintly see the silhouettes of performers huddling within, you lick your lips as a child-like excitement fills your chest. Then you suddenly shake your head, blinking rapidly as you remember what you were doing here in the first place. Your lips forming a thin line, you part away from the crowd and walk beneath the benches. You were hoping this route is discreet enough and will eventually lead you backstage. 

Your plan is simple; Sneak backstage, take pictures of the caged animals and leave without anyone noticing you. Easy peasy. 

When you reach backstage you’re disappointed to see that no animals can be seen. There’s costumes, magic boxes and other items you’re not quite sure what they are. You hear a loud muffled clapping and cheering, and an announcer soon follows. Alerting you that the show has begun. The small hairs on your nape stand up, a chill overtaking your body as you frantically look around. You can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Placing a hand on your chest, you breathe– In and out– Slowly. It was just your nerves. No one is here… though… Now you think about it, why isn’t anyone backstage? 

“My my look at you,” 

A shudder crawls up your spine in the form of a spider, you feel sick as you slowly turn on your heel. You’ve never seen the ringmaster up close before, he’s much more…put together than you expected. He has dark brown, soft looking hair that gently curls above his forehead, the color of his eyes is a dark, warm chocolate and framed with long lashes. His smile is a mischievous one, the tip of his canines showing as it grows the more you stare. You swallow, eyes traveling lower while you take a step back. He has a lean, yet muscular body. He’s wearing a black tight suit, a top hat above his head and a fluffy boa wrapped loosely around his neck. He tilts his head to the side, you notice that he’s observing you as well. 

He tips his hat, his eyes never leaving your figure as they peek through his lashes. 

“I’ve been dying to meet you– The trouble-maker,” he purrs, there’s a certain melody to his voice and it makes you feel uneasy. 

You puff up your chest, feigning confidence as your nails digs into your palms. You’re not surprised that he knows of your presence, but you didn’t come here empty handed. 

“I’ve been dying to meet you too,” you lace your voice with venom. “Peter Parker.” 

He freezes upon hearing his name. Another shudder climbs up your spine, something dark passes through his gaze but he quickly hides it with a charming smile. But you can see as clear as day how tense his muscles got, his chin strained as he tries to keep up his facade. 

“Using name’s without one’s permission is quite rude, is it not?” he clicks his tongue. “And dangerous if I might add,” 

“Are you implying I’m in danger, Mr. Parker? If so, that would make my job much more easier,” 

“And what this job might be, y/n?” 

Your stomach churns when he uses your name, you should’ve expected it but it still comes as a shock. He walks forward and before you know it he’s behind you, his movements remind you of one of a snake. You feel Peter’s breath against your nape, goosebumps bursting across your skin. Embarrassingly enough your breath hitches. You can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, your mind swirls. 

“You must think I’m a fool if you think I’ll tell you anything,” you chuckle but it sounds fake even to you. “I’ll be taking my leave now–” 

“Oh, you certainly won't be doing that–” he mutters your name directly into your ear, a sigh escapes your lips. 

He’s playing you like an instrument. You hate it. 

You part your lips to snap back but before you can you hear a lever being pulled and the floor disappears from underneath your feet. You scream as you fall into darkness, your hand reaching up in hopes to catch the light that slowly becomes smaller and smaller. You can vaguely see Peter falling right beside you, the frame of his face illuminated by the light that soon disappears completely, before it does you see his lips twisting into a sly grin and he winks at you. 

It feels like you’ve been falling forever. Your throat is sore from the screaming and your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest at any given moment. You’re not sure if your eyes are closed or you think of that due to the darkness– 

A soft light suddenly blinds you and you find yourself sprawled on top of endless animal plushies. Your chest heaves as you claw the soft toys, feeling their fur as you take in deep,sharp breaths. You scan your surroundings, there’s a piano in the corner and Peter stands right next to it, he’s unphased by the fall, his hair and smile still intact. You still feel a bit light headed as you collect yourself off of the pile of plushies. Holding your head you take a step closer to him, your eyes going in between Peter and the untouched, dusty piano. 

“You’re not going to sing to me are you?” you say, looking up to where you fell from. “And where the hell are we?” 

Peter chuckles but there’s no emotion behind it. 

“No, I’m not going to sing to you. Besides it would be quite hard to do in this form of media,” 

“What?” 

He quickly waves his hand, dismissing your question entirely. “Oh, nothing– Anyway as for your second question, we’re underneath the circus,” 

“Why did you bring me here?” 

“Just thought you and I should have a chat. I do know why you’re here you know, and I’m here to convince you whatever you think we’re doing, we are not,” 

You snort, “I have my doubts. You say you know why I’m here, enlighten me then,” 

You jump when the piano begins to play on its own. Your eyes widen with horror while Peter takes a step closer to you, his forefinger tapping against his jawline. 

“You think we torture animals,” he says, strolling around you like a vulture. You have trouble keeping an eye on him, you begin to sweat. “You’re an animal rights activist which is most admirable but you’re barking the wrong tree– We take good care of our animals as you can see,” 

The rest of the room lights up, the soft light now so bright that it burns your irises. You quickly squint, eyelids slowly opening as your eyes adjust and when your vision is completely clear, your jaw drops– the room, which is much bigger than a regular room, is filled with glass cages, in retrospect they’re clean, filled with trees, food and fresh air. How it has all those things confuses you but you opt to not question it. Somehow the glass cages are  much more open than most zoo’s and definitely much better than other circuses but it’s still wrong. It makes you sick. The individual cages contain lions, elephants and other animals. 

“See they’re all cared for, no need to fret,” 

“You’re sick,” you snarl, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “These are still cages, it doesn’t matter how nice it may seem,” 

“Well, what shall we do in this predicament then? What’s your big bold plan that’s going to close down my circus?” 

“I…I’ll take pictures–” 

“With this?” Peter holds up the camera that was supposed to be in your bag. “Sorry darling, you won’t be getting evidence of what goes down in my circus,” 

Again, Peter’s behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he holds the camera an inch away from your face. He lets it fall to the floor, a loud crash is heard, it breaks into a million pieces. Your brows furrow with frustration, anger growing inside of you the longer you stare at the broken machine. The piano is still playing, a bit faster now. Your breath stutters. 

“You asshole–” 

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

Peter is suddenly in front of you once again, you grit your teeth and lunge forward. He swiftly moves away from your hands that had no aim and chuckles. Peter playfully turns on his heel and rolls his shoulders, you want to strangle him. 

“Now what?” you hiss. “Are you going to keep me in a cage too?” 

Peter curiously raises his eyebrow, a cat-like smile spreading across his lips as he walks towards you. He stops only an inch away, he raises his gloved hand and gently tilts your head up by your chin. Your body heats up when he forces you to lock your gaze with him, your lips part and you let out a silent gasp. 

“Now that’s rather an enticing idea but no. I do not plan on keeping you hostage, quite the contrary in fact, you’ll be walking out of here quite regularly so you don’t need to fear me or my circus,” 

“I do not fear you.” you jeer. “And you can’t silence me. I’ll keep coming back.” 

“That’s the outcome I’m hoping for. It would pain me to never see you again.” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. You’re lost for words, not really knowing how to respond to his flirtatious remarks as he still holds his finger under your chin. You absolutely hate how conceited he is, how sure of himself he is– Yet your curiosity edges you to explore more. Peter’s smile only grows, his thumb slides up your jaw and brushes against your lips. He presses his thumb and without even thinking you part your lips. You stop breathing when he slides the limb between them, the taste of leather heavy on your tongue as he feels the wet muscle. 

“Look at that, it seems you don’t see me as a complete monster– Ouch!”

Peter yanks his hand away, hissing at the pain as you shoot him a triumphant smile. Upon noticing your reaction he laughs, tilting his head as he licks his lips. 

“You bit me?” he asks despite knowing that you did. “Maybe I should keep you in a cage,” 

You only smile, flashing him your teeth as he hurriedly makes his way towards you. Before you can react, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back. He dives into your fully exposed neck, tracing his tongue against the artery, he drags his teeth as well. You groan at the feeling, your body growing hot by the second. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest and your head begins to spin, mild jolts of pain spread throughout your scalp but you don’t object to it. Peter’s mouth moves against the underside of your jaw, his lips crashing down on yours in a bruising kiss. 

Peter sucks the air from your lungs and you fear this might’ve been his plan all along. His free hand travels down your body, feeling everything you have to offer. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, tasting you as your teeth clank together, his nose smushed against yours as he cocks his head to the side. He cups one of your breasts and squeezes, it coaxes a sheer moan out of you and you break the kiss, breathing heavily as he grins down at you. 

“You like that?” he whispers, he flattens his tongue against your lips and chuckles. “I thought I was a menace?” 

“Shut up,” you groan. “You talk to much,” 

“Do I, now? I haven’t noticed–” 

You drown out the words he’s about to blabber with a kiss of your own, you can feel him smiling against it and it agitates you further. Your hands claw at his chest, desperately trying to unbutton his obnoxious shirt. Peter’s hands come down to your wrists and squeeze them, it’s uncharastically gentle. He moans into your mouth as he guides you, hips grinding against yours while you finally manage to strip him. The fluffy boa falls to the floor along with the shirt, your fingertips traveling along his taut muscles. Peter takes a step forward and you take one back, your lips never leaving one another until you fall on top of the pile of plushies. You look up to him, flustered as you take in the sight of his body. He begins to undo his belt and gestures to your clothes with his eyes. 

“Strip.” 

“I’m doing no such thing while you’re looking at me like a piece of meat,” 

“I’m merely returning the look you’re giving to me,” he purrs. “Now strip, or do you want me to do that for you?” 

You glare at him as you throw your cap to the side and pull off your shirt. 

“Good girl.” 

Your body reacts at his words, your cunt fluttering while you quickly tug down your pants and as soon as you do Peter, the ringmaster you wanted to throw into prison, is all over you. His lips are on your neck, both hands on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples as you close your eyes in pure ecstasy. Your lips part with a moan you’re ashamed to make but you can’t help it as the man devours you like a man starving. Peter grinds his cock against your stomach, it feels hot against your skin and your back arches. He sinks his teeth into your neck as a response, he bites it so hard that your fingers threads his hair, tugging harshly so that he’ll let go. Peter sucks on your skin one last time before letting go of you with a pop. His one hand travels between your writing bodies, his fingers curling around his cock, he positions it so it’s resting right between your wet folds. 

When his length rubs against your clit, you can’t help the way you cry out. 

“Tell me what you want and don’t hold back on the details,” 

Your breathing hitches, lungs burning as you contemplate if you should answer him or not. While the silence grows between the two of you, your awareness of what you were doing also grows. But despite it, you don’t want to stop. Peter grins, grinding his hips once more, he intently watches the way your face contorts with pleasure. 

“I do have a show to run, you know? I don’t have all day,” 

You decide to trade your pride in for only mere moments of pleasure, hopefully it’ll be worth it. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you choke out. “I want you to make me cum again and again as you whisper absolute filth into my ear– Does that sound like something you can do, Peter Parker?” 

“Oh, I’m loving this. Don’t worry y/n, I’m not letting you leave this circus until you’re thoroughly satisfied,” he groans and presses his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re so fucking wet,” 

Your cheek heats up at the remark but you have little time to drown in embarrassment as he pushes in with one swift motion. Your eyes open wide, heart fluttering as your cunt squeezes around him. The way he stretches you is indescribable, his cock reaching your deepest parts while he nibbles your neck. Groaning, you roll your hips and the both of you groan and the overwhelming sensations. Peter chuckles, his lips travel down and he sucks one nipple into his mouth as he begins to rock his hips. 

You’re left breathless at the way he thrusts into you; Fast, hard and calculated. He’s hitting all the spots to make your head spin, meanwhile his tongue dances along your fully erect nipple. Peter is playing you like an instrument, every moan and whimper he coaxes out of you is a new set of lyrics accompanying the melody of the piano. Slick dribbles down your thighs and further wet’s his cock, every time he thrusts his hips, your eyes roll back at the way his pelvis hits your clit. Heat builds within you, it leaves you desperately chasing for your inevitable release. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, Peter lets go of your nipple and drowns out the voices you make by pressing his lips against yours. 

Your orgam washes over you in the form of violent waves. Your eyelids flutter as you part away by moaning his name, your cunt gushes around his cock, endless amounts of slick dripping down to the floor. Peter occupies his mouth by nipping at your jawline, he grinds his hips and each time he does another jolt of pleasure electrifies your nerves. 

Peter is the one to break the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting the both of you as he looks down and smiles. 

“It looks like that was most pleasurable,” 

“You’re a nuisance,” you mutter between pants. “This changes absolutely nothing,” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind after I keep good on my promise,” 

“Whis is…?” 

“Not letting you leave until you’re thoroughly satisfied,” he keens as he rolls his hips. Your eyes immediately roll back, only now you realize that he’s still fully hard. “After that you can hate me all you want.” 

“I don’t need to wait that long. I’m currently hating you right now.” 

“That’s a shame because I’m loving you right now.” 

A/N: to be notified of future work follow @burnthoneymintsathenaeum​ and turn on notifications✨

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!spider man #tasm!peter au event #april is for au's #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrew!peter #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #dark circus au #circus au

[inkstaindusk]

No pressure enstars prompt - maybe anything with Rinne or Niki's underground partners from the twewy au? Or maybe something with HiMERU and Kaname? Sorry if these are too vague

partners au tag I wanted to write a scene where Azusa and Ren (Niki's former partner) showed up backstage at a Crazy:B live but I just didn't like it for some reason, soooo instead here's a possible scene from when they were in the Game! Assume this happens somewhere in the middle/nearing the end of the week and uh don't. don't worry too much about the details

Azusa watches Ren pace with growing agitation. They’re stuck here for the foreseeable future, and while Azusa is certain they’ll get out eventually, it does no good for her only companion to worry themself sick.

“For goodness’ sake Ren-san, stop your pacing and calm down,” she says, frowning.

Ren whirls around on her, wild-eyed. “Calm down? I can’t calm down. I-I am not a calm person!” She sighs and they continue, “Aren’t you worried? We could die here! We probably will die here!”

“We won’t die.”

“How can you be sure?” Ren starts biting their thumbnail, prompting Azusa to stand and wrench their hand away from their lips. They stare at her, still buzzing with nervous energy, and with a huff she tugs them to sit on the cold floor, keeping their hand in hers so they don’t start chewing again.

“You know I don’t like Rinne,” Azusa starts. This is no secret; she and Rinne were arguing when Ren and Niki came across them for the first time. “I don’t respect him and I don’t particularly trust him either, but I do trust one thing about him.”

“What?” Ren asks warily.

“He would not run away from someone else’s game, especially not when the odds are against him.” She clicks her tongue as newly-familiar irritation rises in her once again. “It’s one of the things I hate most about him—he will go against impossible odds so long as he gets the last laugh. He will not be told what to do. He will not allow himself to play by another’s rules. He does not like me nor does he care for you, true, but he will make sure we all get out of this alive because it is exactly what the Game Master does not want him to do.”

Currently, they are hostages for their partners. Azusa does understand Ren’s worry: Niki is nice enough, but between the two of them and Rinne, he would likely pick Rinne; there’s no question as to who Rinne would choose. There is every possibility they could abandon them here.

However, Ren and Niki have been spared some of the enlightening confrontations she and Rinne have had, so Ren doesn’t know as much as them. Moreover, they were not forced to be Rinne’s partner, following, dragging, being dragged by him. They do not know that Rinne has been planning since the day they woke up dead.

Azusa does not know the specifics of these plans. She doesn’t trust Rinne, and so she isn’t even sure she trusts whatever he has in mind, but she does trust his ideals. She trusts that he hates authority more than he hates her. She trusts that he would not allow them to die, if only because allowing any of them to die would be to admit defeat—and Rinne would never do such a thing.

She squeezes Ren’s hand, looking them in the eye. “They will come for us,” she tells them firmly. “We will not die. You do not have to trust Rinne or Niki-san to trust in me, yes?”

“I trust you,” Ren says. Azusa smiles.

She watches their shoulders start to lower, comforted by her own certainty. She has discovered over the past few days that their anxieties are best laid to rest with facts, and luckily, Azusa is better with logic than platitudes. She would not speak empty words.

If they had been dropped in the same area, they would have made good partners, but perhaps it is for the best that they weren’t. They would not have worked well enough together to avoid being Erased.

Instead, they are bound to Rinne and Niki.

Despite everything, the ending is clear.

#asks #anon asks #prompt answers #anya tries to write #drabbles #au: partners in dreams #enstars lb #enstars #ehhh nah i wont tag them since they dont actually appear #oc tag #fp.txt

[crucian-tador]

first outfit belongs to @xxfaylinnxx, the second one from “The Great Mouse Detective”

both hat-girl from my au ( @the-backstage-agit-au )

#a hat in time #ahit #the backstage #hat kid #sketch #art #2022 #the great mouse detective

[calamitycrown]

Small scenario for your circus au!

Eclipse, while not in the show anymore will watch sun and moon preform from backstage. Some part of him does this because he enjoys watching them preform. Another part, because he loves seeing the people in the audience reaction. But the main reason he watches is to make sure his brothers don't over do it.

I'd imagine after the accident he's made it VERY clear to both sun and moon on many occasions to not go crazy with their powers. Usually they listen to him. But there's been a few occasions eclipse can see they're struggling a bit and panics. He'll either draw their act to a quick end or outright cut it off during practice.

He can't have a repeat.

It always ends with him getting upset/ agitated slightly that they had been so reckless and might even have even been the reason they occasionally get into arguments.

Yes, this would definitely be something Eclipse would do! He’s basically their older brother, so he’s got them protective instincts. If something EVER went wrong he’d cancel the entire show for the day at MINIMUM, give Sun and Moon a huuuuge speech about their abilities, maybe even coach them and help them figure out how to do the routine safer, which is something he usually wouldn’t do since it gets him involved in the act just a bit.

And yeah, he’d definitely get irate. Raised voice, furrowed brow, using wild hand gestures to get his point across, the whole works. Anything to prevent what he did from happening to the two he cares most about.

When it comes to arguing, though, Sun will usually just suggest ideas and will typically get shot down, meanwhile Moon will definitely be the problem child and point out how Eclipse is just pushing what happened to him onto them, then it’s an endless back-and-forth. If Sun ends up crying, Moon will take him away and effectively end the argument.

#circus au #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf #fnaf security breach #ask cc

[emsleyanbluejay]

Okay but hear me out:

Heel!JB AU Jack/Marko one-shot with some severe possessiveness and mostly-unintentional guilt-tripping/manipulation, tentatively titled “Burn the World”

Should I go anywhere with it?

#Blue Jay Chirps #can’t promise i’ll finish it in any sort of reasonable time frame #but fuck it sounds fun #looking at Marko like a kicked puppy when he says he doesn’t need Jack to keep saving him #he knows #he knows Marko doesn’t *need* him to but he just worries #and everyone backstage can testify to how agitated and inconsolable he gets when he can’t second Marko to a match #he promises to stay out of it he just needs to be there he needs to make sure Marko doesn’t get hurt #because it seems like he’s the only one who cares anymore #and Marko doesn’t know how to respond or calm him down so he just… #drops the subject #there’s a bit more to it than that but that’s the gist of it #Heel!Jack AU #Bootleg Tarzan #Naughty Babysaurus #Blue Talks Wrestling

[mazuwii]

Name: Sudden Meltdown You= Y/N Ackerman College AU

Fast forward two lessons and I was sitting in the stuffed cafeteria with a fat cake on my plate, trying my hardest to ignore every chaotic thing going on in the huge round hall by chewing on more than I could possibly handle.

"Uh oh, she's stuffing her mouth, why are you mad?" Pieck nudged me. I had no choice but to groan and roll my eyes. Porco and Zeke were sat in front of us, already knowing why I was irritated. "She won't shut the fuck up for one damn second," I mumbled, my gaze averted to Historia standing on the table, barking out bullshit.

Reiner and Annie let out a scoff in sync, both keeping their focus on their phones. Bertholdt laughed awkwardly and played with his fork. "It'll die down soon." He said.

"No, does she think she's some kind of main character or something? Her standing on the table and giving a speech about violence isn't going to stop Eren and Jean fighting like two petty drag queens." I rolled my eyes and continued. "If it did work then they would have stopped arguing by now."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten used to it." Yelena sat across Pieck and I with her usually half-empty tray. "No, everyone secretly finds it cringe, I can't be the only one."

"Mmm, I don't know Y/N, it seems like you are," Zeke smirked and slightly leaned out of the way. Suddenly, students from our class clapping for her came into my already crimson view. "I just want to drop-kick her damn it." I stabbed the cake, earning a tissue rubbing against my mouth and cheeks.

"Not while looking like a baby who can't feed themselves," Pieck said, wiping the corners. All of our friends chortled as she treated me like a child. "What a supportive friend you are(!)" I sighed and took my earphones out of my backpack so I could block out the blonde's agitating voice.

Why was I getting so mad? I had no idea. Perhaps it was because her words were so repetitive and held no meaning to them. "Maybe you're jealous." Porco smugly said. I responded with a growl. "Of what?"

"I don't know, the fact that almost every guy has had a crush on her or that she's prom queen every year or you aren't as feminine as her or maybe"-

"Shut up. I get it." I grunted, stubbornly crossing my arms and glaring away from everyone. "Don't talk with your mouth open, Pocco."

"Don't tell me what to do! Peepee!"

Ignoring Pieck and Porco, my weakened glower settled on Reiner, who was boringly drinking water, leaning against the chair like a careless kid at a boring lecture. "Rei?" He suddenly stopped drinking, his eyes dragging to me creepily. He hummed with his cheeks full of liquid.

"You okay? I never see you eating nowadays." This was a better subject to start rather than that annoying short drama queen. The tall man grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "I ate too much in the morning so I don't have an appetite right now."

"I don't believe that, you aren't as beefy as you used to be," I snickered, squinting my eyes at him. "I bet Porco must be so happy now." Zeke abruptly said to himself. Our attention darted towards the bearded guy, making him look up and proceed. "He's jealous of Reiner's boobs and tries to grow his"-

"What?! Pfft no, I don't! Where d-did you get that from!?"

"Read it in your diary."

Porco began his usual rampage on privacy and why having Zeke as a roommate was like sharing with an obnoxious monkey, making us facepalm at the two. I turned towards Reiner who blushed slightly. I laughed and shook my head at how shy he could become.

By the time their argument turned into playful insults with Pieck and Yelena reacting to all their crappy comebacks, Bertholdt and Annie left the table with each other, in love as always. I got up from my seat and sat next to Reiner since the seat next to him was now empty.

"You know," He started, "You don't need to be jealous of Historia, you're just as good if not, better than her." The heat in my cheeks radiated my entire face. "At least to me," He added with a small smile, suddenly widening his eyes.

"Oh- sorry was that weird?" He laughed awkwardly. "Not at all, weirdo." I smiled at him, loving the view. How could Annie be staring at her phone when she had such perfection sitting next to her?

"Now come with me, let's both get some milk!" I snatched his hand and forced him up with me. He widened his eyes at how abrupt I was being, not having the heart to say no.

Reiner had some issues he never speaks about to people. He's amazing, the way he tries to heal his wounds by healing everyone else's. Out of all the questions I had, I'd have to ask him why. Why he covers his pain up by smiling, which technically is like adding wood to fire.

After taking a croissant and a cookie, I took him out to the benches on campus, no one really goes there now because it was raining in the morning.

Still, I threw my jacket on it and told him to sit down. Before he could decline, I pressed on his shoulders and forced him on it. The jacket was long enough for the both of us so I sat down right next to him.

"Reiner." I mumbled, biting into my cookie and shoving the croissant on his lap. "Y/N... I really"-

"Shut up and eat it, I'm sick of pretending to believe your lies."

His hand shook slightly and his lips quivered, turning his head away from me so that I wouldn't see. My heart shattered into a million pieces upon seeing him try to hide a cry.

"Rei..." I whispered, reaching for his slumped shoulder. "I'm just worried about you, we're besties aren't we?"

"Y/N... I don't deserve anything or anyone." He finally said. Despite the fact it was sad, at least he said something.

"No, please don't tell me this is how you've been thinking?" I bit my lip and remembered how he had PTSD and his room was all for himself, he had no roommate and stays in silence for the whole night, panicking with no one to help.

The silence he was giving me frustrated me more than it should, the fact that he wasn't saying anything about this. Judging by his weight loss it had been at least two weeks. "How long?" I asked carefully.

"Every night..." He finally looked at me. His usually golden, passion-filled eyes were dull with a spike of pain glistening in them. The corners bloodshot as he tried to contain the tears.

"You've been strong for too long, it's ok to cry..." I slithered my arm around his shoulders and gently laid his head against the crook of my neck. His shoulders shook and his breath was shaking as he finally let it out, sobbing into my neck.

From time to time, he'd let out a loud groan by accident, sniffling to lower his voice so that no one could hear but himself. "You matter so much to me, I swear to god, Rei." My fingers raked through his short blonde hair that had grown over time, my other hand rubbing his back.

"I want Reiner Braun. No one else." I told him, knowing why he was putting on the older brother impression all the time.

"He- He's nothing..."

"He's everything to me, why would you want to take away my everything?"

Suddenly, the sniffling stopped and the tears running down my neck halted at my sweater, soaking the collar. His face came into view when he sat up, gazing at me as if I had stated the craziest thing. His bronze pools switched from my left to my right pupil, drowning in my sincerity.

"You know how shit my days here would be without your dumb ass to flirt and make the most himbo jokes?" I giggled, my palm snaking up to his jaw and feeling his stubble gently prick my fingers as I caressed him.

Even though he hadn't said a word, I could only wish I made him feel better about himself because I had not only stated the truth, I exposed myself, my weakness. Although I don't show my appreciation as much as I should, I do need him, life would collapse without the idiot...

"Now, if you take my everything away from me, I'll despise you with every inch of my body," I said, melting when his hand laid on top of mine, leaning into my touch.

"That's not a lot of inches." He mumbled into my palm, making me lightly laugh. "Bastard." He weakly smirked at my playful insult.

"Come here." I sat on my knees so that I was higher than him and rested his head against my chest, my arms tight and secure around him.

"Mm..." I heard his muffled voice say, "Every time you hug me I feel so safe..." My heart skipped a beat, surely I wasn't supposed to hear that considering how low his voice was.

"You won't tell anyone... right?" He said, taking a deep breath in. I could sense him relaxing in my embrace, reassuring not only him but me.

"Of course not, let's just try and get you a break from school, a week should do it... right?" My hand rested on the back of his head even when he moved to face me.

"We have a lot of work for the school play though... the equipment needs building, who'll do the backstage lighting and help with props and what"-

"REI! Relax yourself, himbo. It's only a week."

"No."

"Reiiiii!" I whined, ignoring the thunder that had just struck. "Are you telling me you wouldn't want a week holiday with me?"

"I do, Y/N but we can't." He held onto my waist, careful not to squeeze my sides because he's well aware I'm ticklish there. "I can heal..."

My head unknowingly shook from side to side, "Rei you don't understand, I'm worried for you, healing by yourself... are you sure it'd work?" Silence...

Just as he was about to open his mouth, synced whistling broke our eye contact in the now heavy rain. Our gazes were met by the most annoying trio, Connie, Sasha and Jean wriggling their eyebrows at us. I heard Reiner uncomfortably sigh, cutting his breath off mid-way.

Abruptly, Jean began humming careless whisper out loud with his bothersome voice, Connie singing the lyrics with Sasha weirdly dancing in front of them as if they were in a ninja trio for matchmaking. "Tonight the music seems so LOUD! I WISH THAT WE COULD LOSE THIS CROWD! BABY! IT'S BETTER THIS WAY!"-

"You kids never shut up," We all flinched at the sudden appearance of Levi in the rain, standing proudly at his size. "First of all, it's 'maybe it's better this way', second of all your singing is so bad that the thunderstorm got worse, third of all, Braun and Ackerman, both of you get to class this is not a cheesy ass romance movie!"

Note:

Ok but Sasha Connie and Jean doing careless whisper is 100% canon, like it's too funny not to be true, I’m just chucking this into tumblr LMAO

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner #attack on titan #connie springer #levi ackerman #LMAO sorry I'm dumping ishdiefse

[the-backstage-agit-au]

link on the original song

#A Glitch in Time #AGiT #BackStage #BS #AGiT au #the-backstage-agit-au #backstage_2023 #Snatcher #Subcon Band #Song: #The Boogeyman #By Yungtown #a hat in time #ahit

[chimchiekookie]

Behind The Mask//PJM (1/3)

Oneshots Masterlist

<Next Part> Behind The Mask//PJM (2/3)

Stylist + Enemies AU

Requested

I'm weak for the enemies to lovers trope so do that lol Jimin x Y/n An Idol AU where Y/n is Jimin's makeup artist and they hate each other (you can decide why) A title idea could be "Behind his Mask"

I actually rewrote the ENTIRE thing cause I wasn't satisfied with it. I like this version much better. (Most of it is crack I'm sorry)

There's a bit of swearing so watch out. And just them annoying the crap out of each other in the most childish ways possible.

This first chapter is weird but I PROMISE it gets better.

3.4k Words

You stood there with all the other stylists, your hands behind your back. You were tapping your feet on the floor nervously, waiting for Sejin to say something.

"Alright," Sejin, the rookie group's manager finally said, looking down at his clipboard then back up to you. "You all are going to be the stylists of the new rookie group, BTS, okay? Today's their debut performance so don't mess up."

You nodded enthusiastically along with all of the others beside you.

Sejin opened the one door leading out the room, and in walked the seven boys you were going to work with, hopefully for the rest of their career.

"Hello, we are... BTS! Please treat us well."

You and the rest of the staff bowed as well, but you didn't bow your head. You didn't mean to be rude, it's just that your eyes were locked onto a single figure, you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was doing the same, staring at you as he bowed, still staring when he went back upright.

Sejin handed each of you a paper showing you your schedules. You finally tore your eyes away from the boy and looked down at the paper in your hands. Your fingers curled as you read the first name for today, crushing the paper into a crumpled mess. You looked back up, the boy had stepped forwards. Seeing you look so agitated, he walked towards you. His lips turned up into an amused smile as he leaned forward and whispered in that stupid voice of his that made your hair stand on end.

"Y/n. It's been a while." He smiled, waiting for your response.

"Jimin."

"Hm?"

"Fuck off."

You linked your hands together, stretching your arms above your head, sighing quietly once you heard the small 'crack' sound.

You eyes followed a girl who had just walked into the staff breakroom, as did the eyes of all the other staff. She looked young, with her hair dyed blonde.

"Hi, I'm- I'm new here. I'm part of the stylist team, nice to meet you."

You smiled and stood up, extending your hand. "I'm Y/n."

"I'm Younghee."

"Cute."

You were sitting backstage now, your arms crossed. You were supposed to be waiting for the boys to come, but you had started nodding off. What could you say? It was 3am and way too early to be doing makeup. You wondered how the boys were going to manage dancing at this time, but before you knew it you had slipped into your dream world, curling up on the sofa.

"Baby~" You heard someone whisper. You moved your head away from the sound but whoever it was cupped your face, making you freeze.

You opened your eyes, only to come nose-to-nose with none other than Park Jimin. His smile looked sweet enough but you recognized that evil glare in his eyes.

You let out a shout and sat up, ripping his hand away from your face and aiming a kick at his shin. This time it was his turn to shout. He started hopping on one foot and holding his shin dramatically.

"What were you doing!?" You shouted at him.

"Waking you up! You didn't have to kick my shin you moron! You broke it!!"

"It isn't broken you idiot! And why would you-"

"Nope," came Seokjin's voice from behind. "I'm not dealing with this today. Both of you shut up or I'm telling Sejin."

"You wouldn't," Jimin whispered, narrowing his eyes.

"Try me."

Jimin stamped his foot, glaring at Seokjin. You came to stand next to him and stared down at his feet. "I thought your shin was broken."

"Huh? It is, you broke it."

"You literally just stamped your foot."

"But it's still broken."

"No it's not you asshole."

"Bitch."

"Motherf-"

"What did I say!?" Seokjin screamed from behind, grabbing both of your ears. "It's 3am so for the love of god GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!"

You both wrenched yourselves out of his grasp, snarling at him. He narrowed his eyes at both of you and walked away to his own makeup artist, keeping a close eye on both of you in the mirror.

Jimin sat down in his own chair and you came behind him.

"What are you performing today?"

"Don't ask me."

"Jimin just answer the question. What's the concept?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"I swear to god-"

You turned to the makeup artist next to you, your friend Jia, and raised your eyebrows. She stifled a laugh and passed you a sheet with all the details printed out on it. You looked at it and picked up the makeup brush and got started.

You conversation while you were doing his makeup was... eventful.

"Hey, hey, hey, be careful."

"Shut up."

"You're hurting me."

"I haven't even started."

"But you hurt me, right here." He clasped a hand over his heart and looked up at you dramatically.

"Oh my god can you not?"

"No."

"Idiot."

"Can't think of a better insult?"

"I can think of several but your oh-so-precious ears aren't accustomed to the truth."

"Try me, princess."

"Call me that one more time, I dare you."

"Princess~"

"Shorty."

"I'm taller than you!"

"By a centimetre. If I wear high heels I'll be taller you asshole."

"Oh yeah? Well I-"

You looked up and noticed Seokjin in the mirror way too late. Before you knew it he had grabbed the back of your neck and Jimin's hair, pushing both of your heads down. "Can you two shut tHE FUCK UP!!?"

You flopped down on the sofa, leaning your head back. You rubbed your eyes with one hand, the other travelled down to your pocket where you pulled out your phone.

You turned it on and let out a shout, staring at your lockscreen. It was a picture of you and Jimin, a selfie you had been forced to take with him on valentine's day. Jimin must have gotten your phone and changed it to annoy you, though how he knew your password, only God knows.

The story behind the picture? Some people had been playing spin the bottle. It was Jimin's turn to spin and Jia pulled you down as you were walking past, just in time for the bottle to land on you. You and Jimin had refused to kiss, literally fought with anyone who tried to make you, so in the end you made a deal. If you two could take a selfie together without squabbling or fighting just once, they would let it pass.

A dumb deal, I know. But to the others it was heaven. You two were always fighting, so to get a picture of you two smiling together? The ultimate blackmail.

"Ooh can I see?" Younghee grabbed your phone, turning it towards her. You pulled it back, flustered.

"It's not what it looks like!"

"Really? Hmm, why do you and Jimin have a selfie together? And why is it your lockscreen?"

"It's- well, it's a long story."

"What do you think about Jimin?"

Huh? That was random. But you wanted to make sure she didn't get any weird ideas so you explained anyway, in the kindest way possible.

"I hate him. I hate his guts. He's such an asshole, I swear to God. I wish he would just fuck off-"

"Y/N!! Let's go monitor their performance!" Jia shouted suddenly, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the monitor where you could watch BTS perform.

"What the hell?" You asked her once you were there, wrenching your arm away. "What was that about?"

"You can't just go around saying stuff like that! She's new, she's not used to you two fighting all the time. She'll get the wrong idea!"

"What wrong idea? I hate him, that's that."

"Are you kidding me!? Did you even hear yourself? You sound like one of those haters asking Jimin to leave the group."

"I don't want him to leave the group!" You shouted, aghast. "He's annoying sure, but he worked hard for that place!"

"But she doesn't know that. Just... be careful."

"Okay," you whispered, turning back to the monitor. You couldn't believe she might actually think you want him to leave the group. You weren't that cruel.

The next day you arrived at the building, rubbing your eyes sleepily. You were going to enter the staff breakroom, but Jia called out your name, eyes wide open as she stared at you. She started walking towards you, but she didn't reach in time.

Somebody grabbed your arm and pulled you away. You were pushed into another room. You stumbled and tripped, but before you hit the ground the same person grabbed your arm once more, pulling you upright and pinning you against the wall.

"What the fuck-"

You focused yourself and saw Jimin. He had his arms on the wall on either side of you. You tried to duck under them but he grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back. You looked up at him, glaring. You couldn't quite make out his expression. He looked angry. That was it, just pure anger.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

"Shut up- just shut up, Y/n. You're such an idiot."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Wait."

"Don't tell me to wait-"

He put one hand over your mouth, glancing towards the door. You licked his hand, making him scream and pull it away. His grip on you was still way too fucking strong.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, glaring.

"You really don't know? God, how thick can you get."

"Let go of me-"

"Just look," he hissed.

He pulled out his phone and shoved the screen towards you, playing a video. His grip on you never wavered.

Your eyes widened as you recognized the person in the video. It was... you? It only showed the bottom half of you, however it was dangerously close to revealing your face. You recognized Younghee's hand pulling your phone towards the camera hidden in her shirt pocket, showing off the Jimin lockscreen.

"No," you whispered. "No, no, no, no..."

"What do you think about Jimin?" Younghee asked from the phone.

"I hate him. I hate his guts. He's such an asshole, I swear to God. I wish he would just fuck off-"

Jia shouted something and pulled you away, leaving Younghee fumbling with the camera.

You looked up at Jimin, who stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to happen. I- wait, how many people have seen it? There's still time to delete it, right?"

He bit his lip and looked down, shaking his head. The anger had vanished from his eyes and only pity remained.

"Oh God... what am I gonna do?" You whispered, your voice trembling. You had meant it as a joke, well, most of it. You hadn't thought it would be leaked

"I um... I dealt with it." Jimin muttered.

"You did?"

"Yeah but uh... I panicked. And I may have messed up."

You face fell. "How bad?"

For the first time in forever you watched his face flush, not because you had said something to embarrass him, but he was genuinely blushing.

"I told them... that you were my girlfriend."

"You WHAT!?"

"I panicked!!"

You wrenched yourself out of his grip and grabbed his collar making him face you.

"Park Jimin I wouldn't be caught dead dating you!"

"I know, I know, but-"

"You have to tell them the truth!"

"Oh yeah, just tell them you hate my guts. That'll definitely protect you from any haters."

"And calling me your girlfriend will?"

"Yes, actually. Right now they think everything you said was a drastic and panicked cover up since the person who made the video exposed your lockscreen. It's a great cover story, you've got to admit."

"And they don't hate me for being your girlfriend?" You asked, slowly lowering your hands.

"There's a few immature fans here and there, but yeah, no."

"Great, now tell them we broke up or something."

"Umm..."

"What now?" you sighed.

"The public thinks we're... madly in love."

You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands and screaming into your palms. He was standing there watching you with his arms crossed.

"We don't have to actually do anything, right? Just lay low, pretend we're dating, and when you find someone you actually want to date you just say we broke up, right? Jimin, right? Jimin? Jimin please say yes."

"It's... not in my hands. We just do whatever they want us to do?"

"I don't have to show my face right?"

"Of course not."

You sighed and sank down to the floor, grabbing your hair. For a few minutes Jimin was actually being nice to you, so... that was a good thing? It was bittersweet, considering how your video had been leaked, and now you were supposed to fake date Jimin. Jimin of all people.

Jimin put a hand out towards you and you slowly took it, pulling yourself up.

"Say, Y/n..."

"Hm?"

"Since we're technically dating now..." He stepped closer and put one hand next to your head, the same move they did in the anime's you were so fond of watching. "Shouldn't we kiss at least once?"

He leaned in closer, until you could feel his breath mingling with yours. You pressed yourself against the wall and turned your head away. He brought one hand up and cupped your face, bringing you to look at him. All too suddenly his lips were on yours and he was kissing you. It all happened so fast you didn't have any time to react, and all too quickly he was pulling away.

Without thinking about it you brought you clenched your hand into a fist and brought it back, then punched him straight in the nose. He shouted and stumbled backwards, his eyes watering heavily and blocking his vision.

You wanted to punch him again. You wanted to grab his hair and yank it out, just hurt him in any way possible. How could he!? You could barely wrap your head around what had just happened, the only thing clear to you was your rapidly beating heart, and even that sounded far off.

You shook your head and ran out of the room. Jimin heard the door slam and whirled around, his vision finally clearing.

He sucked in, realising what had just happened.

Hoseok walked in, looking around and spotting Jimin. "So... why was Y/n running away?"

"Umm... I may have fucked up."

He explained what happened. Hoseok stood still for a few seconds before grabbing a cushion off of the couch and throwing it like a frisbee at Jimin's face.

"OW-"

"What is wrong with you!?"

"It was just a joke-"

"Some joke!" Hoseok shouted. "What kind of asshole- why would you even- what were you thinking?!"

"Is it really that serious?"

"What do you think?"

"...no?"

Hoseok reached down for his shoe.

"Whoa whoa whoa back up!" Jimin started, backing away hugging the cushion. "Put the shoe down."

Hoseok glared at Jimin. "You're going to apologize to her."

"Why would I do that!? It was a joke. Not my fault she couldn't take it-"

"You're going to learn to respect people or you're going to get a beating!!"

"Uhm... the first one?"

"Then get out."

"Chill, okay."

Jimin tiptoed past Hoseok, dodging him. "She should've punched you harder," he heard him mutter.

They had a performance scheduled for that afternoon, he would apologize while she was doing his makeup, he decided.

He remembered Hoseok's face when he told him what he had done. He looked... mad

Maybe he should apologize now.

He ran outside. If he knew you, you would be in the park. You always went to park to think, he knew because you had done the same thing when you were kids. If someone said something that hurt you, really hurt you, you would run into the park

"Y/n!" He found you sitting on the swings. He slowly walked forward and sat down on the swing next to you, staring down at the floor. "So... I'm an idiot."

"Yeah, you are."

"Um..."

"Who knocked you to your senses?"

"Hoseok."

"I always liked him. He didn't scream at us for fighting."

"I'm glad it wasn't Seokjin who scolded me. I would have had to come here with broken kneecaps." You smiled at the thought. Maybe you should tell Seokjin anyway. "I um... I shouldn't have done that."

You sighed. "It's okay I was just... shocked. I mean, no, it's not okay, and you can't just do that, but running out was kind of dramatic. BUT- but... this isn't some cheesy love story. I'm not gonna swoon if you try and kiss me."

"I know... so... if I say sorry it's all good?"

"Say it."

Jimin groaned and tightened his grip on the swing, leaning back as far as he could. "Ssssssssorry."

"Good enough you snake."

"I am NOT a- oh."

The performance went well, and nobody brought up the fake dating thing. Or the kiss(if you could even call that a kiss)

You sat down on the sofa and Jimin sat down next to you.

"I come in peace." He raised his hands, seeing your face.

Jia sat on your other side and you scooted closer to her, peering over her shoulder at her phone.

"Wait, what's this?" Jungkook asked. "Jimin and Y/n? Sitting together? Not fighting?"

"Shut up," you both replied at the same time.

Jungkook smiled and sat down, eyes flitting from you to Jimin. "By the way, why are you two enemies anyway?"

"Uhm... I was the smartest kid in class and so was he so... chaos ensued." You smiled innocently

Jimin looked towards Jungkook, debating whether to join in the conversation.

"We also just kinda pranked each other a lot when we were kids," you said, smiling. "I mean, he was annoying so he deserved every bit of it-"

"Nobody deserves baked beans in their backpack."

"Well nobody deserves to have their lucky pencil snapped in half."

"It was a pencil."

"Damn, Jimin, you snapped her lucky pencil? That's cold." Namjoon shook his head in mock disapproval.

"Why are you on her side!? Once she locked me in the school cupboard!"

"You deserved it!"

"I did not-"

Two hours later you two were hunched over, laughing about your idiotic antics as kids. It was when Jimin started talking about his broken wrist that you two finally lost it, clutching your stomachs out of pain once you had laughed for a little over two hours.

"God," Jimin said, wiping a tear. "We were idiots."

"No, I was a genius. You were the idiot."

"I have an idea," Yoongi spoke, slowly edging away from Jimin, who had collapsed on the sofa laughing. "Why don't you two just- oh I don't know- just stop fighting?"

"Are you kidding!? I still haven't gotten enough revenge for the lucky pencil thing."

"It's a pencil."

"My pencil."

"Come on, you could be great friends." Yoongi continued.

"Mmmmm no. Not since Jimin made the whole world think I'm dating him."

"It was an-"

"Accident, yeah, I know."

You punched his shoulder while he just laughed, dodging the second punch.

Suddenly, you got an idea. One that would make Jimin cower in his stupid designer boots.

"Seokjin? Guess what Jimin did today?"

"Hm?" Seokjin looked up from his phone. "Go on, snitch, I don't mind."

"He-"

"I SAID SORRY!"

"He kissed-"

"THE MANNEQUIN!"

"You kissed the mannequin?" Seokjin asked, amused.

"YES- yes. The mannequin is... who I kissed."

"Really?" Seokjin leaned back and crossed his legs. "Because Hoseok told me you kissed Y/n."

"YOU SNITCH-"

"I'm using that as blackmail." Seokjin smiled and crossed his arms. "Okay but you're lucky I'm not the one who found out first. You wouldn't have ankles anymore."

"That... is disturbing."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't even a kiss. More of a... a peck."

"You're not a chick."

"He can't kiss properly," you scoffed.

He put a hand on your shoulder and bent down, whispering into your ear. "Wanna try?"

That earned him another kick.

Oneshots Masterlist

<Next Part> Behind The Mask//PJM (2/3)

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts jimin #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts au #bts scenario #bts x y/n #bts x you #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #jimin bts #park jimin x reader #y/n #Behind The Mask//PJM

[aglitchintime]

“A Glitch in Time” Masterpost

The tale/Backstory

Chapter 1 Dejavu

[cover]  [1-7] [8-14] [15-23] [25-32] [33-41] [42-49] [50-58] [59-61] 

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

author's main blog

AGiT discord server 

AGiT music playlist

The Backstage (Tador’s au)

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

translations

russian

polish

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

AGiT is free for dub and translation! just include me in as the author and leave a link to the comic's blog.

----------------------------------- special thanks to crucian-tador(co-author) and dunaln2(editor) for your huge help!!!  <3 seriously guys. without you I wouldn't go that far

#A Glitch in Time masterpost #A Glitch in Time #agit #masterpost

[silkylious]

I Am in Love. Fuck. (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Dancer!Bakugo Katsuki x Dancer!Reader Warnings: swearing and just some tooth-rotting fluff!  Prompt(s): #35 “Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” + Dancer AU

A/N: Thank you so much @1-800-callmekatsuki​ for the request, this was super cute and fun to write. I hope you enjoy this! yall i know nothing about dancing so for any dancers out there please bear with me lmao

Squeaks of sneakers against the waxed floor echoed throughout the studio, overshadowed by the rhythm blasting from the speakers. Heavy puffs of air mingled with the surrounding noise to create a ruggedly enchanting symphony. Crimson irises peered at you as your hand delicately held him by the neck, moving up to caress his sharp jaw all while you kept up the movements of your feet and the saying of your hips. Katsuki's hands perched stop your waist guiding your motions, grip tightening as the song playing in the background built up to a final crescendo, preparing to support you for the finale of your dance number. As the last notes of the musical piece sounded through the closed space, you struck a final pose, surrendering your body to Katsuki's grasp. You stayed in that position for a second too long, your figure hanging with the help of his strength in an exaggerated dip, his pointy, upturned nose brushing against yours and his muscular arms holding you securely, saving you from an inevitable fall. Your lidded eyes bore into his soul, daring him to go further. He wouldn't give in to your teasing gaze so easily, though. With a painfully audible gulp, he pulled you upright, detaching his body from yours. 

A sharp whistle crashed the tension between you two, followed by overly enthusiastic clapping. 

“That was awesome, guys! You're totally gonna win the competition with this,” Kirishima hollered from the other side of the room, his keen stare watching with amusement as you and his best friend stiffly walked to your respective lockers. He found it infinitely humorous how you could have such palpable chemistry on the dance floor, then act like awkward middle schoolers once the music halted. 

Your skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat; the choreography was exhausting, despite how effortless you and your dance partner made it seem. It surprised you when Katsuki approached you with this particular sequence, he wasn't one for sensuous moves (much less a pas de deux for that matter), and quite frankly you doubted he had it in him to be so intimate and flexible. But as usual, he surprised you with his adaptability, Katsuki really was a natural at many things. What was completely out of left field, however, was his intensity. It was just a duet, you knew that, but fuck did his eyes send you hurtling to other worldly stories with just his glare, the sensuality of his touches immersing you in a fictional forbidden love. The way his lips ghosted over your shoulder as you rocked with your back to his sculpted pectorals. He was doing it on purpose. And you'd be damned if you didn't play his game too, returning his lingering touches with just as much vigour, passion. The plastic bottle in your hand protested under the unnecessary pressure of your clutch, your bottom lip catching behind a row of teeth. Shit, he was getting to you–

“Oi, you're gonna spill water everywhere, dumbass,” Katsuki's gruff voice snapped you from your reverie, making the baby hairs on your neck stand at attention. He chugged his own water in one gulp before successfully throwing the plastic container into the recycling bin from a far. By the time you turned around, he had gotten alarmingly closer. “Overall, you’re not as shitty as last time. Your footing is still fucking abysmal, though. You call that a pirouette? My grandma could do better and she has arthritis.”

Of course he wouldn't let you celebrate, you were convinced he was physically incapable of giving non-backhanded compliments. You shook your head with a light chuckle, his creativity really shined through in his insults. They never really bothered you, you were aware that hidden beneath the layers of unwarranted cussing and borderline rude comments, lied genuine, constructive criticism. Grabbing a change of clothes, you slammed the locker before heading to the public bathroom for a quick rinse, barely sparing him a glance on the way there. 

“Duly noted.”

Vermillion eyes observed the way your hips swayed gently as you walked, completely unaware of similarly colored eyes watching him with gleaming mirth. “You’re so whipped for her, dude.”

Previously relaxed features pulled taut in an agitated grimace. “No, the fuck I’m not.”

“Mhmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, man.” Kirishima escaped the premises before he could experience his best friend’s wrath, a jubilant bounce in his step as he thought about his two friends. He was the common denominator between you two. That’s how you met, at one of Kirishima’s frat parties, and even though Bakugo wouldn’t ever say it out loud, an instant connection sparked between you two. The mutual love for dancing brought you together.

Thoughts of you fogged Katsuki’s mind for the rest of the day, practice that day had been exceptionally sensual, both of you getting progressively more daring. He fruitlessly tried to go about his day without having intrusive thoughts blocking his focus, but to no avail. He found himself aimlessly staring out the window, hyper-realistic sensations buzzing along his skin, it was almost like you were still there, still touching him. He sat there on his couch, trying (and failing), to elude any thought of you. He huffed at his inability to get you out of his head, he had one last resort to aid with his problem.

That damn porcupine wouldn’t stop reappearing in your mind, it was so surreal, the way he looked at you as you forfeited your body to him, his minty pants of air, his natural musk. All of it was too much to handle. Uncertainty stopped you from pursuing the man that had unknowingly snatched your heart, each session with him felt like a shot of fireball running down your throat. So sweet and addictive, yet the repercussions left you impaired. He was a drug to you, making you chase the gratifying high of his touches, but once the endorphins dissipated you were left to battle with the symptoms of withdrawal. Your plans of having a relaxing evening were thrown out the window, you needed anything but alone time to overthink, and you had the perfect getaway from visions plaguing you. Unbeknownst to both of you, you shared the exact same idea.

Drowned in the music provided by his ear buds, Katsuki failed to hear the sounds of someone else in the studio as he rounded the corner. The sight before him momentarily made his heart halt, only to beat twice as fast as his eyes raked over your twirling figure. Dim light peaked through the blinds, casting an elegant, pastel halo over your features. You looked so in your element here, so at peace. Your expression gentle, eyes soft and lips pulled into a preciously small smile, despite the strain pulling at your limbs, begging you to rest. Your body alone made the muscles in his heart clench and unclench rapidly, made his otherwise focused and composed mind a reeling, fiery mess. But what affected him the most, provoked an itching desire in him to be as close to you as humanly possible (a desire that he had refused to acknowledge) was the simple fact that you were doing pirouettes. He’d figured that your comeback to him earlier that day had been pure sarcasm. Seeing you take his advice, practicing all on your own, having the courage to fall and learn, failing and bouncing right back up again over and over until sweat dripped from your temples, all to make both him and yourself proud with the fruits of your labor, that’s what set him off. 

“Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” 

The date of the competition came faster than either of you could comprehend. The days preceding it were filled with hard work, sweat and augmenting tension. With his feelings for you finally recognized and accepted, Bakugo couldn’t help the pink tone frequenting his face whenever you went over the dance together, which he defensively dismissed as a byproduct of heat each time Kirishima brought it up, a knowing look in his eye. That last dip always made his stomach churn. When he was that close to your face, he had to restrain every atom in his body from doing something impulsive, but oh did his lips plead to mold with your own, did his fingers beg to tangle with yours. He’d never experienced anything like this, it was almost like all his body parts had a mind of their own, whenever he was by your side he consciously had to shun his whole being from twitching as it wished desperately to entwine with you in every way possible.

“This is it.” You said, more to yourself than to him, reminding yourself that this was the time to reap all the exertion and time you’d sowed. Your mind was slowly trickling into anxious territory, but a calloused hand interlacing with your own stopped you from straying too far. You gaped at the sudden act of reassurance, a familiar giddy feeling bubbling in your veins. He grinned at you. You grinned back.

“This is it.” He repeated, words coming out strong, resolute. His cadence conveying all the encouragement he didn't know how to voice, his hand anchoring you in what was here and now. 

“And last but not least, please welcome our last competitors, Bakugo Katsuki and (last name) (name)!”

That was the cue for the both of you to emerge from backstage. As you took your starting positions, you inhaled and exhaled uniformly, Bakugo sending you a look of slight concern which you returned with a smirk, telepathically telling him let’s win this thing. 

The music kicked in and you lost yourselves between the melodies. It was like Pavlov’s conditioning almost; as soon as your ears heard the starting notes, your bodies moved on their own, muscle memory taking the front seat and grabbing hold of the steering wheel. And yet it was anything but a blur. You saw everything in blinding clarity, minutes seemed to slow for your perception. The way he moved was etched into your brain in overwhelming detail. The dance was as amorous as can be. Your gaze remained attached to his throughout the whole number, only leaving when you twirled or turned around. This time around, you didn’t dance as mere partners, no you danced as lovers. There was no teasing involved, only unbridled adoration. Applause fell on deaf ears, anything that wasn’t him was mute and colorless to you, and vice versa. You danced like nobody was observing, like you were a married couple swaying around your kitchen.  

The final notes brought you two back to reality, and through the unease in his gorgeous, crimson irises, you knew he had a decision to make. Your palm skimmed across the expanse of his neck, trailing the unblemished column before moving up to his jaw. With practiced ease, your feet skidded along the stage while your hips moved in tantalizing waves, his sweaty hands gripping at your waist tightly, a clear indication of his ongoing, internal debate. You gave him a last glare, one that ultimately made him settle on a choice he vowed to never regret, then your body slackened in his hold, his arms dipping you backwards in a closing pose, concluding the exhilarating choreography. 

But he still had one more thing to do.

As his nose pushed up against yours, he made a final push, lowering his lids in preparation. His slightly chapped lips puckered against your soft ones, prompting your eyes to grow wide. Obnoxious cheering erupted, but neither of you could hear it. Shutting your eyes, you moved your lips in a sensuous rhythm against his own, not too dissimilar to the number you’d just performed, basking in the sensation that you’d daydreamed about during endless sleepless nights.

For once, Katsuki couldn’t give less of a shit about achieving an indisputable first place in a competition, because no matter the outcome of this dance, whether he swooped all the medals or not, he considered this to be the biggest win in his book.

#katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo imagine

[crucian-tador]

we continue to do “hihi” and “haha” with @habijob on servers (au: @queens-nightmare​ and @the-backstage-agit-au​)

#a hat in time #ahit #snatcher #luke #moonjumper #moonie jericho #the backstage #queens nightmare #habijob #sketch #2022

[k-llama-llama]

Blue

TXT AU: 6th member

Sara x TXT

Sara has the  worst anemic attack she’s ever had.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I can’t believe you’re wearing a crop top.” Hueningkai tugged on the back of Sara’s shirt. “It’s like a whole new you.”

“Haha,” Sara pushed his hand away. “It’s barely an inch of my stomach, don’t get too excited.”

“Ew. No, I’m just surprised you agreed to wear it.” He said. “Especially for promotions.”

“Zoey and Sumi said that it would look good.” Sara told him. “And I thought it would be okay. Why, does it look weird?”

“No, you look pretty, Noona.” He promised. 

They were backstage at an award show, waiting to go on to tape their performance of Puma. To be honest, Sara had been skeptical of the whole crop top thing, but Zoey had promised that it would look good. And Sumi had insisted that because she’d never worn one in public before, fans would just talk about how good she looked. And so she hadn’t seen the harm in trying it out.

Of course, she’d skipped breakfast and dinner to make sure that she had a waist. She’d taken her pills and eaten an apple, but that was it. And she had to say, she felt like it was paying off. She’d never had the most defined waist, but there was the beginning of an hourglass shape, just barely displayed by her crop top.

“You’re feeling good, Soo-ji?” Soobin came over.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She grinned. “Just ready to get this over with.”

“You and me both.” He grinned, and spotted a staff member signalling them over. “I guess it’s our turn.”

An hour later, when they climbed down from the stage, Sara was absolutely wiped. She was sure there was sweat dripping down her forehead, and she wondered if the red flush of her cheeks was visible through her makeup.

Taking the first step down from the stage, Sara felt a familiar floatiness descend on her. It felt like her legs weren’t attached to her anymore, like she was a puppet-master just pulling on the strings. She couldn’t feel the movement, and her head began to feel cloudy.

She grabbed Yeonjun’s arm. “I need to eat something.”

“Yah, you and me-” He turned to look at her, instantly taking in the pallor of her face and the unfocused look in her eyes. “Right, let’s go.”

He looped an arm around her waist, hurrying her down the stairs. Sara slumped into him. She was still walking beside him, but he was dragging her in his hurry to get her back to the green room.

“Tae.” Yeonjun said sharply. “Grab her other arm, she’s going to go.”

Sara felt her other arm be pulled over Taehyun’s shoulders, and allowed her weight to drop.

“You’re going to be fine, Noona.” Taehyun said as they shoved through the door to the green room. 

“Let’s put her here.” Yeonjun settled her onto the couch, and then disappeared.

“I have your pill and some orange juice.” He held it out. 

Sara held out a shaking hand, her mind completely blank.

“Don’t worry.” Taehyun grabbed her hand. “We’ve got it.”

If she was in her right mind, she would have thanked them. Because there was no way she was capable of holding the glass right now.

“Open up.” Yeonjun placed the pill on her tongue, holding up the glass of orange juice so she could take a sip.

She swallowed the pill, feeling relief flow through her. She didn’t feel better yet, as it would take a few minutes for that to happen, but at least she knew that she would feel better soon.

“Just lay down.” Taehyun moved her so her head was resting on a rolled up sweater. “We’re going to go get ourselves some food, but we’ll be right across the room.”

She was pretty sure she nodded.

Soobin hurried over as soon as he was in the room. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Just...resting.” She said, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears.

“She just took her pill.” Yeonjun informed the leader. “We’ll just give her a minute.”

“Okay. I’ll be right over there, okay Soo-ji?”

Sara had no idea how long she’d been lying there, waiting for her medicine to kick in. But it suddenly hit her with a start, it wasn’t kicking in. The sense of calm she was feeling wasn’t her medicine helping her, it was the fogginess descending over the rest of her body. It was getting worse.

The thought had just crossed her mind when her world went black.

The boys were busy collecting their food, arguing over who would get the last bagel and dividing up a bunch of grapes.

“Maybe Soo-ji should get the last bagel.” Beomgyu suggested. “If she’s feeling up to it.”

“That’s true. Sara do you want the-” Yeonjun turned to look at her. “Sara?”

There was no response.

“Yah, are you hungry or do you want- Holy shit.” Yeonjun gasped. “Soo-ji!”

“What’s wrong? Oh my god!” Soobin turned, his eyes landing on Sara.

She was lying on the couch where they’d left her, completely unconscious. Her face was deathly pale, and her lips were tinged with blue.

“Soo-ji! Wake up!” Yeonjun smacked her cheek, trying to get a response from her.

“I thought you said she took her pill!” Soobin shouted, shaking Sara to try and wake her up.

“She did! She should be fine.” Yeonjun turned, planning on shouting for help.

Beomgyu was way ahead of him, leaning out the hallway. “Someone call an ambulance! Please!”

“She’s breathing, right? Tell me she’s breathing?” Soobin felt at her neck for a pulse. 

“I don’t...I don’t...”

“She is.” Taehyun felt her chest for the rise and fall of her shallow breaths. “But, it doesn’t seem like she’s breathing enough.”

“SOMEONE HELP!” 

They weren’t sure how long it was before the paramedics rolled their stretcher into the room and they were shoved back. There were monitors strapped onto her, an IV put in, and then she was lifted onto the stretcher. All the while they just kept hearing words like ‘seizing’ and ‘shock’ and ‘lack of oxygen’.

Sara was wheeled out of the room, their manager taking off after her.

“Get your things.” Another staff member said. “We’ll take you home.”

“No, take us to the hospital.” Soobin said, grabbing his things.

“You won’t be able to see her right away. You don’t need to-”

“We’re going now.” Yeonjun pulled his and Sara’s bags onto his shoulders. “We’re going to be there.”

When Sara came to, she was aware of two things. The first, was that she was extremely cold. The type of cold that seeped through to her bones and made her instantly wish that she could drink some tea or something to warm her up.

The second things was that her legs appeared to be strapped down.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking as the light agitated a headache that she hadn’t realized was there. Something tickled her nose, and she lifted a hand, feeling a tube that she realized was blowing air into her nose.

Lifting her head, she tried to take in the room.

The first thing she realized was that her legs weren’t strapped down. Instead, Taehyun and Hueningkai were laying across her legs, pining them to the bed.

She looked around the room. It was definitely a hospital room, but the lights were dimmed. Yeonjun was curled up in the chair next to her bed, wearing the same clothes from their performance. Soobin and Beomgyu was on the couch on the other side of the room, with one of them snoring loudly.

She glanced at her hand, finding an IV taped to it. What the heck had happened? The last thing she remembered was taking her pill, and she should’ve felt better. She couldn’t remember why she was in the hospital now.

The nice part of her wanted to let the boys sleep. But she was freezing.

“Yah, Yeonjun.” She reached out with her hand and poked his foot. “Wake up.”

“Not yet,” He grumbled, turning away from her. “I’m still-” 

His eyes shot open, landing on her; sitting up in bed, staring at him expectantly. 

“SOO-JI! You’re awake!” He shouted.

It was like a bomb had gone off, and the others boys shot awake.

“Noona!”

“Sara!”

Someone jumped on top of her, tackling her in a hug.

“I was so worried!” Huka squeezed her tightly.

“Get off!” Soobin pulled him away. “You’ll hurt her.”

“I’m fine.” Sara smiled at him, before remembering. “Actually, I’m cold.”

“Here, take my sweater.” Yeonjun pulled a sweater off the back of his chair.

“It’s the middle of the night, but I’m sure we can get a nurse to get you a blanket.” Soobin said. “I’ll go.”

“No, not yet.” Sara protested as Yeonjun wrapped the sweater around her shoulders. “Why are we in the hospital?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Beomgyu asked. “After the performance?”

Sara tilted her head. “I remember feeling faint, and Jun helping me take my pill, but nothing after that. I passed out?”

Yeonjun poked her in the forehead. “You did a little bit more than that. You were turning blue and barely breathing.”

“They had to give you blood and stuff, Noona.” Taehyun said. “The doctors said it was really bad.”

“Do you have any idea why it happened?” Soobin asked. “You didn’t feel sick in the morning? You were eating, right? The doctors said it shouldn’t have happened.”

Sara blinked, trying to clear her head. She did have a horrible headache, but she could vaguely remember. “My crop top?”

“Your crop top?” Soobin frowned. “Can someone page the nurse I think she’s-”

“No, I didn’t eat dinner or breakfast because of my crop top.” Sara remembered. “I just had an apple in the morning. But I was taking my pills so I should’ve-”

Something smacked her in the back of the head.

“OW!” She shouted, lifting a hand to feel where she’d been struck. “What is wrong with you?” 

Yeonjun just crossed his arms. “You deserved it.”

“I have a headache! I’m literally in a hospital bed right now.”

“Yeah but you’re stupid.”He scoffed. “How come you get to nag us about picking up our clothes and everything else you could possibly think of when you can’t even remember to eat dinner.”

“I can-”

“It’s literally the one thing you have to do!” He insisted. “I almost had a heart attack because you wanted to look good in a crop top?”

“I’m fine, and it’s not going to happen again.” She promised.

“Obviously not.” Yeonjun turned to Soobin. “Because we’re supervising your meals now.”

“You are not.” Sara went to cross her arms, but then remembered the needle and thought better of it. “I don’t need you to make me eat my vegetables.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting out of this.” Soobin shook his head. “We’re supervising.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“We’re serious.” Huka said with a bright smile.

“Urgh.” Sara groaned. “Whatever. I’m freezing and I have a headache, so can I go back to bed?”

“Sure, we’ll turn the lights off.” Soobin smiled obviously feeling like he’d won.

Sara lay back down, resting her head on the uncomfortable hospital pillow. She saw Yeonjun settle back into his chair, and felt the weight of her blankets grow as sweaters were piled on top of her. 

“We’ll be right here if you need anything.” Soobin said, moving her hair out of her face.

“You’re seriously all sleeping here?”

Taehyun and Hueningkai each rested their heads on one of her legs. “We’re pretty comfortable.”

“Whatever.” Sara snuggled back into the pillow. “Night everyone.”

“Goodnight!”

#txt #txt au #txt imagines #txt 6th member #female kpop #female!kpop #female member kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #soobin #yeonjun #taehyun #beomgyu #hueningkai

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Flirtation and Fistfights

Supernatural/Criminal Minds

Word Count: ~2940

Warnings: Drinking, pot smokin’, and (in case you couldn’t guess from the title) a fistfight. Somebody is giving a homeless woman a hard time, Spencer and Dean do not appreciate it.   

A/N: This is part of the Rockstar AU! It’s also for my Rockstar AU square on my Criminal Minds Trope Bingo card. Convenient, right? 

Lemming line inspired by an Ao3 tag. Continued cheerleading for this series provided by @stunudo​, who is wonderful. 

Spot the “It Takes A Village” reference! 

The post-show adrenaline rush is made even sweeter by the fact that there’s a hot tub and a couple easy days in Dean’s near future. The first L.A. show is in the bag. They have another tomorrow — same venue means minimal gear-schlepping and setup, thank fuck — followed by a full day off. 

Neither band has played L.A. in a while, and Dean’s seen a few familiar faces milling around already. It’s nice, aside from the small talk, but he’s used to that; the way he travels, he rarely has time to stay in one place and get to know people beyond the basics. He’s perfected the spiel: “tour’s been great, we’re going into the studio when it’s over, how’s your kid/spouse/dog?” etc. There are a bunch of those conversations happening around him, but people are starting to trickle out slowly, friends and acquaintances heading home or closing out. 

While they’re here, they’re staying at Casa de Pop Star, and Dean can’t lie, he’s looking forward to some poolside naps, movies on a decent-sized screen, and various other creature comforts. 

He’s getting another drink first, though. He leans up against the venue bar and looks around. 

At the end of the bar, Spencer is talking to a blonde, and it takes Dean a second to place her: Lila Archer, movie star and all-around hottie. Dean gapes at them for a second. He can’t see Spencer’s face, but she’s clearly flirting, standing close and putting a hand on his arm. Dean had no idea the kid had game like that. Granted, he and Spencer aren’t exactly close, but. 

Dean hasn’t figured him out yet. Dean is usually good at figuring out what makes people tick, what they’re hiding behind their masks, but he can’t make heads or tails of whatever the fuck happens in Spencer’s head. He has this way of looking at Dean as if he’s an alien species, or something, all bemused and vaguely perturbed like he can’t make sense of the words that just came out of Dean’s mouth. 

Then again, Spencer’s high more often than not, and they don’t exactly have a lot in common, and he’s a goddamn space cadet even when he’s sober, so... maybe he just really doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about half the time. 

He’s not like that with everybody, is the thing; Sam and Spencer got along immediately. They have this whole quirky dork thing going on where they talk in half-sentences that don’t make sense to anybody else. 

Not that Dean’s jealous or anything. Whatever.  

Dean’s drink arrives and he’s distracted for a moment, but when he looks again, Spencer’s shaking his head. Lila’s face falls. A second later, he’s giving her an awkward little wave, and she heads for the door. 

Yeah, Dean’s not usually one for gossip, but he really wants to know what the fuck just happened. Maybe Spencer’s one of those geeks who’s just completely fuckin’ oblivious when chicks are hitting on them? Dean can set him straight. It’ll be a bonding exercise. 

He weaves through the crowd to where Spencer is downing the last of his drink. 

“Tell me you did not just shoot down Lila Archer.”  

Spencer makes a face. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.” 

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean laughs. “Did she just march up and introduce herself? I didn’t know she was coming to the show.” 

“I met her at a party a while ago,” Spencer tells him. He’s looking up at the ceiling pensively, avoiding eye contact as he shreds a napkin. “In New York, when she was still in school. I, um. She’d been talking to this skeevy guy, and I saw him slip something in her drink, so.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Grabbed it and threw it in his face,” Spencer admits sheepishly. “And then I got punched, and she offered to, um, take me home and thank me, but I was kinda bleeding a lot. She gave me her number instead.” 

“That’s… actually pretty badass,” Dean comments. Spencer gives him half a smile. “So you guys kept in touch?” 

“She moved to L.A. not long after that. We’ve hung out a couple times, when I’ve been in town, but… I don’t think we’re interested in the same thing.” 

Dean almost smacks himself on the forehead. “I didn’t realize you were into dick, sorry.” 

“Oh, I’m not.” 

There’s a pause. Spencer doesn’t seem mad; his mouth is quirked in something resembling a smile, like he’s laughing at Dean for not asking the right questions. 

Is Spencer just like that, or is he not offering any more information because he wants this conversation to be over? 

Whatever. Dean’s curious. 

“So, you’re into chicks but not Lila friggin’ Archer? Are you telling me she’s not your type? 

“It’s not that,” Spencer says, smirking. 

Dean blinks a couple times. Emily told him the other day that everybody in the band except Hotch was single, so… he’s coming up blank. 

“You gotta give me a hint or something.”

“I’m not into sex,” Spencer says, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh.” Dean hesitates, taking a drink to hide his surprise. “Huh. Is that… huh. Are you — are you out, or whatever?” 

“I’m not not out.” Spencer shrugs. “Most people just assume, one way or the other, and I don’t bother to correct them. I just… don’t really care what people think about me, so if they don’t ask, I don’t bother. I’m not hiding anything, though.” 

“Huh,” Dean repeats. He has no idea what to say. 

“If I do tell them, most people argue with me anyway,” Spencer says wryly. “Tell me I’ll change my mind when I meet the right person, or whatever. I tell them they’re probably right and change the subject.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh. “That doesn’t piss you off?”

“Sorta, but…” Spencer grimaces, fidgeting for a second. “I don’t like confrontation, or whatever. It’s not important. I’d rather just… not talk about myself.”  

“Sorry for… y’know.” 

“No biggie.” 

Dean still feels awkward, but Spencer doesn’t seem bothered. He just sits there, tapping out a rhythm on the bar top, smiling to himself. 

Dean doesn’t do well with silences. 

It occurs to him that he has a peace offering: “Wanna come outside and smoke a joint with me? Could use some fresh air.” 

“Hell yes I do,” Spencer says, brightening immediately.  

They make their way backstage and then through the labyrinthine venue hallways until they come out at the back lot, where the buses are idling. Hotch is on his phone across the lot, and a bouncer near the fence is saying something into a walkie-talkie, but for the most part, it’s quiet. 

Dean lights the joint and offers Spencer the first hit, leaning back against the brick wall. 

“Y’know, nobody’s ever actually asked me about my sexuality,” Dean tells him, and he’s not in the habit of volunteering information like that, but it seems to get Spencer’s attention. 

“Really?” 

“I didn’t ever think about it, until… recently. But it’s true. A fuckload of interviews, over the years, and like you said, everybody just assumes.” 

“Because you don’t contradict people’s ideas of what a man should look like, or talk like, or dress like,” Spencer says bluntly. “As long as you fit within a certain box…” He shrugs, blowing smoke up at the sky. 

“Yeah, my dad was big on that box,” Dean says ruefully. “Wouldn’t he be proud?” 

“Bet it won’t take long for them to start asking. Not if you keep wearing nail polish.” 

Dean takes the joint and frowns at his hands. He hadn’t even thought about that. 

“Really? That’s all it takes?” he asks. 

Spencer just snorts. Dean’s stomach does a nervous flip-flop. 

He’s got an interview with Spin scheduled for next week, and he doubts anybody will comment right away, but eventually... eventually there will be questions. What will he say, if they ask? 

He’s still lost in thought, looking down at his free hand, as he exhales and passes to Spencer. With his eyes on the chipped green polish, it takes him a second to realize that Spencer hasn’t grabbed the joint. 

Dean looks up. Spencer is staring intently at something off to their side, and Dean follows his gaze over to the chain link fence and roll-away gate that separates them from the road. There’s a homeless woman there, hands over her ears, pacing back and forth. The security guy is saying something to her, his voice raised, as he starts to pull the gate open. 

Spencer moves abruptly, striding away from Dean without a word, and Dean hesitates for a second before pinching out the joint and following him. 

As he gets closer, Dean can make out what the bouncer is saying, in a loud, condescending voice like he’s talking to a toddler: “Move. Away. From. The. Gate. Jesus Christ, can you fuckin’ hear me?” 

The woman is muttering to herself agitatedly, and she flinches away from the guy’s voice, but she doesn’t look up from her feet as she paces. 

“What are you doing?” Spencer snaps at the guard. The edge in his tone makes Dean hurry to catch up. 

“She won’t get outta the way,” he says, rolling his eyes. He turns to the woman again and shouts, “Hell-looooo, anybody home?” 

“Have you tried speaking to her like she’s a goddamn human being?” Spencer says, low and clipped. 

“Whoa, hey,” Dean says uneasily. Not that he doesn’t want to head-butt this asshole, but Spencer’s a quarter of the guy’s mass, at best.

“You wanna give it a try?” the guy scoffs. “Trust me, she’s not getting the picture. I’m gonna call the cops.” He directs the last words at the woman, who’s still pacing, more and more agitated: “Crazy bitch.”

“You should apologize now,” Spencer says, sharp and quiet and ice-cold. Dean puts a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer shoves it away without looking at him. 

The bouncer has the nerve to laugh. “Calm the fuck down, buddy.” 

“This is calm, and I’m not your fucking buddy,” Spencer snaps, taking another step closer. 

“Dude,” Dean interrupts. “Spencer, c’mon.” 

Spencer’s frozen for a moment, shaking with anger, but after a second, he steps back reluctantly. He reminds Dean of a hissing cat with its back arched and its claws exposed. 

“There you go, listen to your boyfriend,” the bouncer laughs. 

Dean considers him for a half-second, works up some saliva, and spits in his face. 

Everything moves quick and blurry after that; the guy shoves Dean back, cursing, and there’s a shout in the distance as he winds up. Before Dean can duck out of the way of the guy’s fist, Spencer steps in front of him — only to go flying, because he’s a fucking twig and should really know better. Dean sees red. He punches back. 

Then Hotch has the guy’s arms pinned behind his back, hauling him away, and Sam is grabbing Dean’s wrist before he can take another swing. Spencer grunts something incoherent from the ground. At least he’s conscious. 

“Motherfucker,” Dean snaps. “I’m fine, Sam, get off me.” He shakes out his smarting hand and glares daggers at the bouncer’s retreating back as Hotch and Rossi manhandle him into the building. Spencer makes a pained noise; he’s cupping his hands over his nose, and there’s blood dripping between his fingers. 

“Dean?” Cas is jogging over, Morgan behind him. He puts a hand on Dean’s arm, looking him up and down anxiously. “What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean says gruffly, and turns to Spencer. “You okay, kid?” 

“‘M fide,” Spencer mumbles. “Is she still…” 

Dean glances over. The woman is sitting with her back to the fence, curled up with her arms around her knees. 

“Fuck,” Dean mutters. “What should I —”

“I got it,” Cas tells him, and slips through the gate, approaching the woman with an easy, open smile. 

Cas was homeless for a while. Dean hates hearing him talk about it — not because it makes Cas sad, but exactly the opposite; he’s so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it makes Dean sad. He tells stories, sometimes, and he’s completely fuckin’ blasé even when he’s talking about things that make Dean ache to think about. 

Dean hovers for a second. Sam is crouching next to Spencer, holding his balled-up flannel to Spencer’s nose, and Dean feels useless. There’s gotta be something he can do to help. 

Then he remembers something Cas said, once, and he turns his back on the scene and jogs off to the bus. 

He makes a beeline for the bunk under his, which is designated for storage. He’s got an almost-new backpack he’s been using as an overnighter, when he doesn’t want to lug his whole suitcase into a hotel; he dumps it out unceremoniously. 

He grabs a blanket first, the soft fleece one, rolling it up tight to stick it in the backpack. Then there’s a big hoodie, one Dean borrowed from their merch table the other day. He has a whole collection of tiny sealed soaps and shampoos from various hotels, and he runs to the kitchen to put them in a zip-lock bag. In the bathroom, he grabs a pack of wet wipes, the packaged spare toothbrush that Charlie keeps for “emergencies” — aka when she inevitably leaves hers at a hotel — and about half of their first aid kit. Then he ransacks the kitchen: several packs of ramen, a box of pop-tarts, couple bottles of water… he pauses, considering Sam’s nasty-ass granola bars, before tossing them in too. Sam can get more. He fishes the cash out of his wallet, shoves it in a zip-lock, and then closes the whole mess up. 

Then for a second he just freezes, looking down at the backpack, wondering if he’s being presumptuous or some shit. 

Dean’s always been suspicious of so-called “Good Samaritans.” Everything has strings attached. If it were him, he wouldn’t accept unsolicited help, but he’s been told that’s maybe a psychological flaw, not a virtue. 

Cas told him once about a woman named Hannah (he called her an angel) who gave him a backpack of supplies when he first ended up on the street. Said she probably saved his life. It’s one of those stories Dean doesn’t like to think about, but… he remembers. 

When he hustles back to the fence, Spencer is on his feet, Sam’s bloody flannel clutched to his face as he talks to Rossi and Morgan. 

Cas is still with the woman, who is on her feet, now, looking rattled but much calmer than she did before. Cas is talking to her in that direct, no-bullshit way he has; it’d be off-putting, from anybody else, but Cas is so earnest that it’s comforting instead. 

The woman looks wary, when she sees Dean approaching, so he hangs back until Cas comes to him. 

“I grabbed some stuff,” he says anxiously. “I didn’t know… is that weird? It’s just, like, shampoo and a blanket and — sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” 

Cas just stares at him for a second, his expression completely unreadable. Dean’s stomach sinks. 

“You remembered,” Cas says hoarsely, just as Dean opens his mouth to apologize.  

The back of Dean’s neck feels hot. “Yeah?” 

Cas gives him a quick, fierce, affectionate smile. He reaches out and squeezes Dean’s arm once before taking the bag. 

“There’s a shelter a couple blocks away. I’m going to walk her there. I’ll be back shortly.” 

He watches Cas go, and then he turns to see Spencer staring at them. Dean clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“Thanks, Schroeder,” he says. 

Spencer gives him that look again, like he has no idea what Dean is talking about. Maybe he’s concussed. He lowers the flannel, revealing a mess of dried blood and the beginnings of an impressive shiner. 

“Y’had my back,” he says thickly. Even through his rapidly-swelling nose, it sounds a lot like “Duh.” 

“The venue manager wants to talk to you,” Rossi announces. “Hotch saw enough to make it clear that the guy threw the first punch, so he’s most definitely getting fired, but just in case, they want it in your words.” 

“Fan-friggin-tastic,” Dean grouches. “Well, let’s get it over with. There’s a fuckin’ hot tub waiting for us, I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” 

“You sure you’re alright?” Rossi asks Spencer. “I swear, kid, you have the self-preservation instincts of a damn lemming.” 

“‘M’fide,” Spencer repeats, which is close enough to “fine,” apparently, that Rossi doesn’t push the issue. 

“You gotta be more careful with that pretty face of yours,” Morgan says, and Spencer flips him off. 

As he falls into step with Dean, heading back to the venue, Spencer mumbles, “Why d’I feel like I’b being sent t’the Princibal?” 

Dean chuckles, trying to imagine what a tiny (tinier) Spencer would’ve gotten in trouble for. 

“Hey, you mind tellin’ me why you just went feral on a guy who was the size of a fuckin’ hippo?” he asks.  

“Don’t like... bullies,” Spencer replies, clearly making an effort to enunciate. 

“Weren’t you just telling me how you try to avoid confrontation?”

“S’different.” Spencer shrugs. “Pisses me off. Don’t really care what happens to me, but —” 

“That’s healthy,” Dean needles. 

Spencer’s not looking at him, but his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to grin. “Takes one to know one.” 

Dean stops in his tracks and sputters for a second, turning a snort of laughter into a huff like he’s offended. Then he shakes his head and they keep walking.  

“Thanks,” Dean says again. “That was really fucking stupid, but thanks.” 

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Spencer says, like it’s a given.   

Dean smiles, because he’s right. Maybe he has more in common with Spencer than he thought. 

.

.

.

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #dean winchester

[twokinkybeans]

The Arachnoids: Rock Band AU [Starker] - CHAPTER 1: SOUNDCHECK SETBACK

READ “CHAPTER 1: SOUNDCHECK SETBACK” ON AO3

Other chapters: Prologue (To be continued)

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth​​, @staticwhispersinthedark​​

Find the fic’s masterpost here!

-

Chapter 1: Soundcheck Setback

Peter swears he can feel the blood drain from his face when he sees the number of security guards surrounding the stage terrain. Of course, they’re necessary to keep out anyone who tries to catch a glimpse without a valid ticket. It’s highly intimidating, though, that they’re gonna have to walk up to them and ask for entrance. He clamps his backstage pass a little tighter and swallows as he huddles a little deeper into his warm winter coat.

MJ notices and she cracks a smile at him. Her curls playfully dangle from underneath her red Christmas-themed winter hat. She looks adorable, honestly, and if it weren’t for the fact that Peter was gay as fuck, he’d probably have fallen for her at some point.  “Impressive, uh?” MJ teases, referring to the guards. Peter snorts and nods at her. MJ might seem cool and collected, but he knows she’s an expert at hiding her true feelings. “Who’s gonna walk up to them?” “It can’t be that hard, can it?” Ned squeaks, looking equally terrified with the mere thought of talking to the guards. MJ bumps his shoulder playfully. “Should I do the talking, boys?” Peter and Ned nod in unison, grateful for her offer, and follow after their lead singer timidly. The guard they’re headed towards spots them and smiles. 

“Hi there, how can I help you?” The woman’s voice is warm and kind, and Peter’s nerves settle a little. Security guards are just normal people too, Pete. “We’re opening for The Avengers today, uhm, we got out passes right here?” MJ says politely and raises her own backstage pass. The guard checks it and nods. “Ah, The Arachnoids. Of course! Wait, let me call for Harley. He’s one of the roadies for The Avengers, sweet kid. He will inform you about everything you need to know.”

-

The woman asks for said roadie, Harley, using her radio and not soon after a young blonde appears. He gives them all a spontaneous hug and waves at them to follow him. “Come, let’s get you settled!”

Not much later, the three of them are waiting in front of the stage. It’s 4.20 PM, and the soundcheck was supposed to start at 3.45. Everyone, everyone, is here. Except for Tony Stark.  Peter doesn’t know why it makes him feel somewhat disappointed. Steve Rogers- the drummer, and Natasha Romanoff- the bassist, don’t seem to be too surprised by the absence of their bandmate.  “Do you think he’s always this late?” Ned whispers quietly. Peter shrugs.  “I dunno. But he better gets here soon or we don’t have time to do our soundcheck anymore,” he murmurs. He knows how it works. The headliner gets to do a soundcheck first to make sure everything works as it’s supposed to. The opening band gets the remaining time. The Arachnoids haven’t opened much, but it wouldn’t be the first time they missed out on some vital installations on Ned’s pad controller.

“Harley?” Natasha speaks into her mic. “Let’s get started without him. It’s no use waiting.” Harley sighs and throws his hands up into the air. “Fine. God- Why must he always…” Harley’s voice fades into an agitated mumble when he signals for the tech crew to get started. His previously bright personality is nowhere to be seen.

Steve is up first and right when his foot taps into the kick pedal of his drum kit, Tony saunters onto the stage with a smug grin on his face. He walks up to Steve and pats the man’s blond hair. Peter can see the forced smile on the drummer’s face. “Getting started without me, uh?” “Tony, grab your mic. We don’t have time for this,” Natasha spits out. “We’re kicking off with The Dark World.” “Gloomy.” “Shut up, Tony.” “Thought you wanted me to sing?” The man laughs at his own joke, the sound reverberating around the otherwise quiet area.

Strange enough, when Tony does in fact take his microphone… Everything seems to change. His voice is warm and rough around the edges, ringing in Peter’s ears like a sweet melody demanding his full attention. The rockstar’s whole demeanor changes. He no longer carries himself like he owns the stage. No. He melts into it. Into the scenery. Like singing is all he’s ever done. All he’s ever wanted to do.

Peter frowns and clamps his jaws together. Is… Is this the man he adores so much? A part of him wants to believe the man is simply having a bad day, but it’s clear that everyone is used to the man acting like such a jerk. And he’s not the only one who caught on. “What an asshole…” MJ whispers. Peter doesn’t know what to answer to that, so he just nods. She’s probably right. She always is. This isn’t just Tony Stark being in a bad mood.

I've got this under control. Satisfaction is not in my nature. You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. We’re not gods. We are born. We live. We-

Peter bites down his lower lip. It doesn’t sit right with him, the way Tony Stark treats everyone around him. This is not a one-time thing, he’s sure of that now. He feels bad for the people that work closely with him. Steve, Natasha, Harley, the rest of the crew… It must be hard to deal with the man. Peter sighs. He’s still excited to play, heck, he never even dared to dream of playing for such a large crowd, on New Year’s Eve to be precise. It’s all of his teenage dreams come true.  “-alrighty, so that sucked.” Tony stops himself and shakes his head. Instantly, the near-enchanting vibe vanishes. “Can you fix that or should I come up there myself?”

The young girl seated in the control booth doesn’t know what to say. She parts her lips and then shuts her mouth again. Her big, brown eyes innocently worried about the judgment of the legend. “Sir, I-” “I don’t want to hear it. Vocals were completely buried. Right?” Tony boasts and he looks at Natasha. The bassist only glares back. Tony scoffs. “Of course. The Red Queen is pissed off once more.” “Tony, cut it. This show’s important. After this, you can do whatever you want.” Steve talks over him. “Let’s get this soundcheck done and over with.” “Can we have a cheeseburger after? Harley? Do we have cheeseburgers?” “Fuck you,” is all the roadie responds and he shakes his head. Harley walks over to the control booth and whispers into the girl’s ear. A smile reappears on her face and changes the settings.

Yet, Tony Stark’s behavior has soured the mood. Peter hopes it won’t get worse. It won’t… Right?

-

Next Chapter >> Chapter 2: Roadie Rush

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