#I have an idea for helping them with their stage makeup so

[birrdies]

you know i gotta hit you with the ❛ you look good like this. ❜ quote for desertduo (but if another pair comes to mind for this one then follow your heart i'm not your dad)

In all fairness, this wasn't exactly Grian's idea.

Far from it, really. If it were up to Grian, the plan would be that of the doomsday variety. You know, burning buildings, time-bomb countdowns, cool one-liners, maybe a slow-motion shot or two— the works. It's easier that way, when he can break down each step into a cliche scene, a trope he can boil it down to to make it all that much easier to swallow. They are lines he's meant to read and nothing else. He's acting. It's all pretend.

Scar, however, is a difficult person to pretend around.

Grian wonders at times if it's an affliction— a terminal aversion to falsehood in the presence of a man Grian's never witnessed exude more veracity and dodginess at one time. In all honesty it's dizzying, the constant back and forth. Grian's constantly caught biting his laughter like his tongue between his teeth, unsure if what Scar's just said was a joke or something earnest not meant to be poked fun at.

It makes the spotlights all the more difficult to bear. They're budget, at best, but the heat lingers. The brightness persists, like someone's holding his entire body up to a flashlight and he can't help but glow red, hot and embarrassed and sweating to death in his three layers of costume. He feels like a middle school science fair frog splayed out, pinned to a tray and reeking of formaldehyde, waiting for the final plunge of a scalpel to tear him in two.

Graphic? Maybe. But there's no better way to describe the feeling of Grian's chest tearing in two when Scar comes from backstage, crossing stage left to meet Grian at center stage. The lights are hot and Grian can't exactly breathe. He's repeating the same next three lines in his head, over and over, because somehow he's worried he hasn't remembered them yet. Because somehow, somewhere, they're long gone by the time Scar makes it to center stage. By the time Scar grabs his hand the same way he did it last night and the night before.

This wasn't Grian's plan. He's no actor. He doesn't belong on a stage. But Scar's looking at him and even when the seats are empty, tonight's performance hours away, Grian can't help but feel the weight of a thousand stares. A packed house. That's the effect those two green eyes have on him, and it makes him sick to my stomach.

They're staring at him. Expectatntly.

Shit. The line. What the hell is the line?

"Um." Grian licks his lips, wondering if he can pass off punching Scar as a bold character choice. "It's... I—"

"Forgot?"

Grian's scowl twitches. "Don't sound so biggity."

"You look good like this," Scar says, ever the disarmer. And it makes Grian want to punch him all the more.

"You mean sweating under a pound of stage makeup?" Grian raises his eyebrows at him.

"Flustered," Scar says.

[poisonheiress]

Since there are no Glitz and Glam head canons or reader inserts yet, I've decided to make my own and share them with you. These are romantic in nature and reader focused so be prepared for that.

Warning: Some head canons suggest a shared S/O while others are for a specific sister.

◆ To begin, I believe that Glitz and Glam are rather jealous lovers, regardless if the partner is shared or not. The jealousy spawns from their connection to Envy and their hellborne status. Low born demons are used to fighting for everything they have, and even with the social boost from their position as Mammon's new figures, Glitz and Glam can only go so far. Adding in their natural leaning for Envy due their birth in the 6th ring, jealousy can come on quick and heavy. As a result, Glitz and Glam worry about their partner's focus falling away from them especially in public, always trying to bring their attention back to them at all costs. While their jealousy normally doesn't extend to the other sister, a shared partner can cause a few spats between the sisters every now and again.

◆ While the Glam sisters are as harsh as Envy demons come, that same bite and vitriol is never extended to their partners even in earlier stages of their relationships. They may keep the same snark in teasing their partner, but they will never insult or degrade their partners. This rule extends to those outside the relationship too. Neither sister responds well to some no-name or paparazzi looking down on their partner as a joke or otherwise. After all, demons aren't kind beings, especially those who spent the beginning of their lives crawling out of the Envy ring's Abyss.

◆ Speaking of rank, Glitz and Glam would definitely spend massive amounts of money on their s/o once they become Mammon’s new figures. While they obviously aren’t getting as big of a cut as they should, it’s much better than what their payments used to be, and as part of their life, their wealth extends to you too. From new clothing and jewelry to elaborate dates, they relish in spoiling their partners as long as they are the only ones doing it.

◆ Their personal life with their partner is never going to be publicized for people’s entertainment if Glitz or Glam have a say in it. They made their peace with the sexualization and objectification that comes with surviving in Hell show business a long time ago, and they don’t want their partner to ever experience the same fate. Attempting to break into their partner’s home or extort their partner either ends in a new corpse for the cleaners or a one way trip to Sloth’s hospitals. Because of this, I don’t see them dating another performer especially one under Mammon’s domain. Neither will risk their one freedom in hell becoming Greed’s newest commodity no matter how much they care about the other person.

◆ For every outfit the Glam sisters buy you, they will steal some of your wardrobe in return. No matter how big or small your clothes are on them, they’ll find a way to make it work. It gets to the point where half your wardrobe has found itself way into their shared closet. Glitz favors hoodies and sweaters, especially cropped ones while Glam prefers taking jackets and shirts. Wearing your lover's clothing is seen as a passive form of marking in Hell, even more so if the clothing has their scent on it, and Glitz and Glam take full advantage of that.

◆ A lot of dates for you on both sides would occur in the Envy ring, specifically in its seas. Since a lot of Glitz and Glam’s early life spent constantly moving about the Abyssal zones, they know all the best spots and love sharing that part of their life with their partners. They also love these dates because it's a lot easier to run from paparazzi underwater and disappear into the depths of the sea. Glitz and Glam also like to bring back souvenirs from their visits to the Envy Ring like pieces of coral and pearls. Glitz has even tried to bring a devil-fish back over the border once, but customs wasn’t found of that idea. Sure, they could bring back other commercial goods, but when it come to Envy, they prefer giving their partners something they found or killed with their own hands, not something that can be bought anywhere else.

◆ Speaking of dates, Glitz and Glam do vary in their preferred activities. Glitz prefers more high stakes, wild kinds of dates like hell’s version of bungee jumping or sky diving. She’ll even take you to swim through the riptides if you want. Glam, on the other hand, prefers more lowkey events like hunting or adventuring into deep sea caves where you two would have more alone time. Of course, they enjoy the traditional dinner dates and events, but they’ll always prefer something exiting with you alone.

◆ Last but not least, physical affection. Neither sister goes beyond hand holding or a few hidden make-outs in public. If they're feeling bold, they may even pull you onto their lap or sit on your lap. At home, they are a lot more hands on. Being Glam’s partner means that she’d gonna be wrapped around you like a second skin. She likes to have her hands on you at all times if possible. Cuddling with her is similar to being a straight jacket with the grip she has. It gets to the point where she’d rather pick you up to move then let you move around at all. On the plus side, cuddling with her means gossiping for hours straight on anyone and everyone, and her connection to stardom means that she's never out of thing to talk about.

◆ While Glitz likes affection just as much as her sister, she doesn't need to be touching her partner all the time, choosing to stay and sit close to you to fill her urge in public. Cuddling wise, I think Glitz is the kind of partner who lays on top of you, putting all her weight on you, and the only way to get her off is to move her yourself. With you captive under her, she will tell every bad joke her sister keeps from entering their act and she won't stop until you laugh. Glitz also loves her sticking her cold, webbed hands under your shirt to warm them up, laughing like a banshee when you jump at the touch.

◆ In the end, the Glam sisters fall slow but love hard. They may have each other, but they crave another person to share their lives with that will see them as something more then Greed's newest product. You have to hang on to what makes you happy in hell, and they'll cling to you till the end of their lives if you let them.

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and finally answer him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. ��But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[zippidi-dooda]

In the early stages of going over to meet Bakugou's parents you were visibly uncomfortable, nervous, and always coming up with an excuse to postpone the visits.

Your heart was beating in your chest, hands clammy, eyes almost watery. And even though they were endlessly nice and welcoming towards you, something wouldn't let you shake the fear of being around them and you barely uttered a word, the rides home going with complete silence between you and him.

Bakugou of course had noticed and tried asking you about it, but then you'd feel that lump in your throat, not wanting to explain why you were always so anxious when it came to his parents since you didn't even know the reason yourself, you'd quickly change the subject or use any excuse to leave the room.

The avoidance irked him beyond belief, he wanted to snap and ask his questions straight out ... but he didn't want to run the risk of you crying. So, he sends a text explaining the situation to his parents and asks for advice, how should he approach this?

And the next time you visit, he and his father conveniently have to run out for an errand. You of course rushed to offer to go with them, you couldn't bear the idea of being in Bakugou's home without Bakugou, but they refused saying it'd be rude to make the guest do things for them. So, you were stuck. Alone. With Bakugou's mother sitting on the couch right across from you ....

You look down at your sweaty palms clutching your pants, head racing and praying to God she wouldn't want to talk.

And to your relief, she leaves the room.

Ahh ... you'll live to see another day.

Clink!

You look up slightly to see a plate full of steaming cookies on the coffee table in front of you.

Then you feel the cushion sink next to you and a caramelized floral scent envelops you.

"Glad we got rid of 'em! That boy would have a fit if I showed you these with him around."

Mitsuki was sitting right next to you.

"Well? Go on, grab some, it's rude not to try your host's treats. Brat doesn't like sweets, but these are Katsuki's favorites, I'll give you the recipe later." She winks.

You were dazed for a moment before grabbing one out of fear politeness.

The older lady crosses her legs, opening a thick album you hadn't noticed she'd been carrying and points towards a photo in the bottom right.

"This here is from when we got to bring Katsuki home for the first time. I knew then and there he'd be a pain in my ass. Ugly thing isn't he?"

... what a way to talk about your child.

You lean over a bit to take a look. And a smile makes it's way across your lips. He wasn't the prettiest thing, no, but since you loved him you couldn't help feeling happy at the sight.

She points to another one, "This here is when I caught him getting into my makeup. Masaru had taken the picture since he wasn't paying attention then showed it to me. Nearly chased him down the block when I saw it. Little Bastard was always getting into everything he shouldn't have."

You chuckled through your nose, finally taking a bite of the cookie.

It tasted amazing.

Mitsuki continued to flip through the album, telling you the stories that came with each photo, her way of storytelling garnering a bit a laughter from you and eventually you had your feet tucked on the couch and cheek resting on her shoulder simply listening to her talk. You hadn't even noticed it happen.

She didn't ask you questions about yourself, didn't point out your change in behavior, or even glance your way. It was almost as if you weren't even there. But, you were greatful for that. And she knew.

She had stood when she heard the front door beginning to open and looked at you, raising a finger to her lips, "don't tell Katsuki 'bout this, kay?"

You smiled and nodded, turning around to watch the pair as they walked in.

That was the first time you truly felt comfortable in the Bakugou household.

And you were soon looking forward to each visit, much to Katsuki's relief.

Well, it was relief at first when you were starting to converse and interact more, taking the time to get close to his mom and his dad and asking him about his family on your own.

But then he knew you were getting too close to his family, especially his mom, when you started sighing and asking questions like "Oh, what happened to the Katsuki who would sing just cause he felt like it" or saying things like "You know I think I'm happy I didn't meet you as a kid, we wouldn't have gotten along as well" or even pointing out toys to him like "look, it's just like the one you had as in the past, right?"

Then he knew exactly what made you open up to his family, "Hag's been showing you that damn album, hasn't she?"

And suddenly he didn't know if he should be mad or greatful towards his parents for coming up with their plan to help you grow comfortable around them.

[bombuni]

the post-show high

summary: Jongho spots you in the crowd once and can’t let go of you. Unfortunately, so does Yeosang. Good thing they don’t mind sharing. (Or Seonghwa and Hongjoong are terrible wingmen, but they get the job done.) genre/pairing: lead singer!jongho x reader x bassist!yeosang, smut, band au, ft. drummer!mingi, guitarist!hongjoong & seonghwa’s there for vibes wc: 4.8k (i have issues when it comes to jongsang) warnings: SMUT MDNI, threesome, cursing, mentions of drinking, mean!dom!jongho, soft!dom!yeosang, sub!fem!reader, fingering champions jongsang, box munching king jongho, name-calling (jongho loves sluts), edging, creampies, spit kink, degradation, finger sucking, sloppy seconds, sort of cum-eating, aftercare, idk why it gets so soft at the end bom note: i had this thought and i said ‘i must bring chino moreno jongho to life’ jongsang stans pls fw my vision. also here’s a playlist i made! i think the music they’d make in this au is very much deftones style. lmk if i missed anything for the warnings!

It’s hot.

You don’t mind supporting Hongjoong and Mingi in their musical escapades, but it’s crowded. When they’d told you they were in a band, you half-expected them to be playing in a low-down unknown bar with 2 patrons. You hadn’t expected to be crowded by fans, all (not) patiently waiting for the set to start. Seonghwa stood beside you, pouting every time he was shoved into. He looked out of place, elegant and prince-like in a sea of punk-rockers wearing crust pants and in yesterday’s makeup.

He seems at ease, though. Having been to multiple of Hongjoong’s shows at this point, he’s become accustomed to the intense pits, the broken noses, and the lingering stench of weed. The multitudes of drinks he’s been having seem to help too. You stand by and watch as his cheeks get redder and redder throughout the night.

He points his drink at you while he speaks, “You know, Hongjoong wants to set you up with the singer, Jongho. Said he seems like your type,”

You scoff at that, “No way! The last guy he tried to set me up with ended up being a total weirdo,”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “A foot fetish isn’t the weirdest thing out there. Besides, Yunho’s actually pretty cool,” he raises his brows at you, but continues when he sees you’re not changing your mind, “Fine. Go with my option. I wanted to set you up with their bassist. You like nice guys, right?”

The lights dim, giving you an easy out to Seonghwa’s terrible match-making ideas, “The fact you think I’m ever trusting you or Hongjoong again is laughable.”

Seonghwa can’t respond as the band steps on stage, a rush of excitement flowing through you when you see Hongjoong and Mingi in their spots. They both wave at you in the front row, Hongjoong’s smile growing extra wide when he sees Seonghwa. The bassist smiles at the crowd, his pink cheeks shining in the light. You wonder how such a cherub-looking guy ended up in a hard band like this. Though, his black tank top revealing his muscular form makes your head spin from how different his body is from his innocent-looking face.

Hongjoong seems at home on the stage, “How we doing tonight?” His hype seems to work as the crowd cheers loudly and unapologetically, “Thanks to KQ bar for having us. I’m Hongjoong, that’s Yeosang, our bassist, and we got Mingi on drums. Seems like we’re missing someone, though,”

Mingi’s voice rumbles through the microphone, “Bring Jongho out!”

The crowd seems to squish you impossibly more, their screams nearly drowning your own thoughts. Rightfully so, as the lead singer walks out with a confidence that you envy. His leather pants shine under the stage lights, and he seems to bask in the attention he gets. His smirk grows with every step he takes towards the main stage. You feel he’s cocky, and you hate that you like it.

“Hello, KQ,” He seems to command the room, silence enveloping the crowd when he speaks, “I’m glad you could make it tonight-“

Jongho scans the crowd, but he seems to pause at the sight of you. He still wears the smug look, ego wafting in the room and getting under your skin. It’s a smaller venue and you’re somewhat close, so it’s easy to tell that he’s staring at you and no one else.

He points directly at you, finger seemingly digging into your soul, “Let’s have fun tonight.”

With that, the set starts. Mingi’s drums burst through your chest, the slow start to their first song hypnotizes you. The sound of the bass is what draws you in, and you look towards Yeosang, who’s putting his entire heart into the sound. His fingers are delicate and pretty, the complete opposite to most bass players you’ve seen. They strum expertly, long digits reaching to find the right note every time. You figure they could reach anywhere.

He must feel your eyes on him. Yeosang looks up with a focused, stoic look plastered on his face as he watches the scenery. As he looks around you lock eyes with him, a shy smile growing on his face when he realizes you aren’t looking away. It seems to fuel his performance when he goes back to looking down at his bass.

The music is intense, Hongjoong and Mingi clearly pouring their passion into it. You know them and expected this fervor, but it surprises you when it comes from Jongho and Yeosang too. Jongho’s voice sends chills down your spine with every high note sung. It reaches out to you, pulling the passion and feeling from you and taking that energy for his own growth. Watching him is watching art being made.

The set ends, and the 4 sweaty men on stage bow and thank the crowd. You feel Jongho’s eyes on you again, that same soul-marking finger calling your attention to wink at you before he walks off the stage. Yeosang seems to call your attention too, a subtle wave landing your way before he too disappears behind the curtain.

As the lights flicker back on, Seonghwa turns to you with a sparkle in his eye, “That was amazing! We need to go buy them drinks,”

You shrug, imposing nonchalance even though your face is turning red at the thought of meeting face to face with them after that, “Sure, sounds good.”

Seonghwa raises a brow before laughing at your reluctance, “Don’t think I didn’t see that by the way. Yeosang was totally into you,”

You scoff and turn to walk towards the bar, “Shut up, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa harrumphs, but follows behind you. It’s easy to spot Hongjoong’s blonde head of hair among the sea of people, “Joongie, stop hogging all the talent,”

He turns laughing at you, his warm arms wrapping around you, “Can’t stop, won’t stop, baby,”

“Hongjoong! That was your best performance yet. But can we talk about how Yeosang was totally eye-fucking Y/N the entire time?” Seonghwa’s somewhat tipsy, you conclude.

Hongjoong leans on the bar, “Uh…no. I’m still betting on Jongho and her. You know he was asking about you?”

You roll your eyes at their insistence, “You just finished a set, why're you worried about my love life?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you as he’s given a tray of drinks, handing some off to you and Seonghwa before walking ahead, “Come on, Jongho wants to meet you.”

He leads you towards the backstage. Hongjoong opens a door marked with a flimsy sheet of notebook paper, their band name written in purple marker. You hear Jongho’s voice before anything else. It’s embedded in your brain at this point. As you walk further in, his large frame and slicked back hair intimidates you. You fear you’ve fallen for him already. With his hands in his leather jacket, he greets you with a lazy smirk. You can feel the stardom radiating off of him. It lets you know that whatever arrogance he has is completely warranted.

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong makes a dumb excuse about forgetting something that requires him, Seonghwa, and Mingi. They leave quickly, knowing your protests would come faster.

You sigh inwardly to yourself, but Jongho seems all too pleased to be alone with you, “How ‘bout a drink?”

He sits on the battered leather couch, legs spread and waiting for you to sit next to him. He raises a brow when you sit on the seat opposite him before handing you a shot glass, “Hongjoong said you’re looking for a date,” His voice is quieter, softer now. There’s certainly a step down from his stage presence to the Jongho you’re talking to now. Maybe you were just being harsh in the assumption he’d be a pompous asshole earlier. You don’t let yourself soften, though.

You snort, “Well, Hongjoong doesn’t know what he’s talking about,”

Jongho downs his glass in a flash, turning to you with a charming smirk that makes you want to kiss it off his face, “So it’s off the table?”

He says this like it’s an easy, everyday question. His poignant flirting sends a blush to your cheeks that glows under the dim lightbulb of the broken down room. Jongho thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. You down your shot and he’s ready to up the ante on the flirting before Yeosang appears, wiping a towel over his sweaty face and greeting you with a soft smile that sends butterflies down your tummy.

“Yeosang, this is-“

“Y/N, right? Seonghwa told me about you. How’d you like the show?”

God, you did not expect a voice like that, to come out of a face like that. His brown hair sticks to his forehead and his pale skin glows under the light, those same fingers you were admiring on stage are much more daunting close-up. They distract you as he taps on the arm of the seat across you, almost tauntingly.

“Oh-um, it was great. You guys seem to really enjoy what you do,”

They stare at you with half-lidded gazes, like they’re chewing on your words in their heads and analyzing you as a person. You’d believe they hate you, if it weren’t for the teasing, venemous grins they wore on their faces. They’ve been around groupies long enough to recognize them, and you might not be one of them, but God, Jongho wants to train you until you only remember their names.

Jongho doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he addresses Yeosang, “Y/N was just telling me about how much she loves the band,”

Yeosang leans his head on the palm of his hand, his biceps popping in the lighting, “Hmm, do you?”

You scoff to try to shake off their gazes, reaching for another glass, “You guys believe Hongjoong way too much,”

Jongho grins at you like a predator, “I heard it from Mingi,”

Yeosang’s smile is teasing, “I heard it from Seonghwa,”

You’re outnumbered, so you don’t even bother saying anything about the teasing. The overflowing chatter outside and booming music drowns out any thoughts you attempt to have. You fear they can somehow hear your beating heart, like they’re zeroing in on you and preparing to eat you alive. Yeosang’s hands tap against the chair again, your eyes flying to study the way they flex.

Jongho pipes up again, “You seem to like Yeosang’s hands a lot. You know, he’ll play whatever song you like.”

Yeosang stretches his fingers, watching the way your blush grows and the way your grasp tightens against the glass in your hand, “I’ll do whatever you want,”

Yeosang stands from his seat and moves to stand in front of you. It forces your eyes upwards, his body heat and proximity turning your entire body into jelly. Suddenly, Jongho speaks up and his soft voice is the worst vice you’ve faced yet, “Why don’t you let us give you a private show? Hmm?” His head tilts softly, the smug smile on his face as he leans back into the couch filling you with annoyance and desire.

You nod softly, mind a haze and heat pooling inside you. Yeosang reaches his hand up to your chin, pulling your mouth open with his thumb before pushing it between your lips. He watches with rapt interest as your tongue swirls around his digit, lips fighting to pull all of the sweat clean off his hand. The sound turns them on more than ever, the feeling of your saliva coating his fingers fueling the fire in his gut. He removes his thumb, playing with your lips as you leave tiny kisses over his fingers before he inserts his forefingers. You work on them again, saliva strings building between his hand and your mouth every time he pulls away.

“You’re nasty, baby,” Jongho’s smug voice pipes up.

Once Yeosang deems his hand wet enough he sits down next to you, slowly trailing his hand down your tummy and into your jeans. It’s a tight fit, but Jongho reaches over to unbutton your pants for him. As soon as he does, Yeosang’s hand slips into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it and groaning at the wetness that grows underneath his fingers.

Jongho seems content with watching you break. You writhe underneath Yeosang’s fingers as he expertly finds just the right spot and abuses it. You feel dirty with the wet spot that continues to grow on your pants, quiet moans filling the room alongside Yeosang’s panting breaths. Your hand grasps Yeosang’s when he runs his fingers along your folds, spreading your wetness against your skin and moaning at the feeling of you so turned on. He takes his hand out of your pants, the shine of your slick glistening in his eyes. He brings his forefingers to his lips, running his tongue along the length of them before he sucks them clean. He makes sure to be lewd about it, licking every single drop of your juices and smiling at you with your slick on his lips.

“Hmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Jongho hums as he stands to you, pulling your pants off in one swift motion. He kneels in front of you, running his palm over your wet panties. His large hand is different from Yeosang’s delicate fingers. He has a domineering touch that doesn’t stop as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, pulling your panties down. His hands send tingles of pleasure down your spine when he kneads your skin, taking his time to feel and memorize every inch of you.

Jongho’s fingers run through your slit, smearing the wetness that drips out of you. He teases you, watching as your impatience grows while his fingers stray from where you want them most. Suddenly, his lips are on you. He devours you like you’re the first meal he’s had in days, a man starved of the fruit between your legs. His tongue slips inside you and over you, tracing every inch of you and leaving a path of pleasure. He ravishes you while Yeosang watches beside you, his hands making quick work of your shirt.

They seem to have developed a system. They’re far too comfortable with sharing. The thought doesn’t really form in your head as Jongho keeps marking you with his mouth, small kisses landing anywhere he can reach. He smirks at you when a whine slips from your lips when he spreads your thighs further, a glob of spit flowing from his pouty lips and onto you. He hisses at the sight, the shine of your pussy filling his gut with desire. His lips latch back onto your clit, his forefingers making their way inside you. He curls them ever so slightly, fucking you over and over again as his tongue flicks your button. Jongho’s already figured out how you work, destroying you with a smile and a glint in his eyes from below.

Yeosang giggles when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra, “You got a nice rack.”

You admit if anyone else spoke those words to you, you would’ve found it demeaning. But the way Yeosang’s soft voice compliments you sends a new wave of flames over your body.

Jongho grins and removes his lips from you, “Knew you were a fucking slut,”

You shake your head, but Jongho’s got you pegged. The feeling of having two men’s attention on you at once is exhilarating. It has you on cloud nine. Jongho raises the speed of his fingers, the squelch of your pussy sounding out into the room. Yeosang’s hands fondle your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple and bringing a sigh out of you.

He sends butterfly kisses down your jawline, “Hmm, she’s a nice slut, though. The prettiest one I’ve seen,”

He’s too angelic. Everything about him is elegant and graceful, even the way he touches you. His low tone vibrates through your body, clashing with the harsh way Jongho keeps fucking you. He dominates the lower part of you, as if his hands have found their home. The juxtaposition between them sends your system into overdrive.

“You wanna cum?” You nod frantically, “Use your words, slut.”

“P-please, Jongho…”

Yeosang coos, “Even the way she begs is cute,”

Your legs are shaking at this point and Jongho’s cock is leaking in his pants, weeping to be let out. Still, he lives to torture, “You can’t cum without my permission,” Your leg muscles clamp up, pouring all of your energy into not letting your orgasm slip out of you. Jongho notices your strain, “Look at you. What a good fucking slut you are.”

His fingers slip out of you and you whine at the loss, Yeosang’s gentle fingers playing with your nipples is simply not enough friction. Jongho stands, pulling you up with him, “If you can take Yeosang’s cock, I’ll let you cum on mine. Deal?”

You don't even understand what you’re agreeing to, but you follow Jongho’s orders. You feel Yeosang stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your torso and walking you until you’re in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room. He bends you over it, your knees knocking onto the soft carpet underneath. You don’t think about how long ago it must’ve last been cleaned. You just think about Jongho sitting cross legged on the couch in front of you, his hand resting on his hard cock in his pants. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat as Yeosang leans over your back, his nose nuzzling against your hair. His long fingers run over the expanse of your back, the cold feeling sending shivers down your spine.

He leans back and spreads your ass, groaning at the sight of you dripping. You hear the sound of his belt buckle dropping and your nerves rise before a soothing hand drops onto your hips, massaging your skin. His voice rings right into your ear, “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not as mean as Jongho,” Said man scoffs, the slightest hint of a blush noticeable under the light. Before you can say anything, Yeosang’s cock teases your entrance, playing with your pussy with his tip. The feeling makes you whine, already edging into dangerous territory.

Yeosang slides in entirely, his long cock reaching the deepest parts of you. Your entire body goes numb as he gently thrusts, bouts of pleasure rising through every part of your body. He’s whining pathetically, trying not to lose his mind and keep control at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, “S-she’s so tight, Jongho, shit.”

Jongho’s fidgeting in his seat, palming himself like there’s no tomorrow and attempting to hide how weak he is already, “How tight, Yeosang?”

Yeosang steadies himself on your hips, the speed of his thrusts increasing. He’s like a desperate puppy trying to get his rocks off, his sweaty shirt on your back as he leans his head on your shoulder. He’s lost himself to the pleasure. He moans into your ear, his heavy breaths a performance made just for you.

“This is the best pussy I’ve had. Right, angel? You’re being good for me?” he pants out.

You moan at the praise, “Y-yes, Yeosang, all for you,”

Jongho’s restless now. Watching the way the table shakes from Yeosang’s thrusts and the way you take it so well has him anxious to get inside of you. His cock strains in his pants, but he’ll wait until Yeosang’s had his fill. Yeosang’s balls slap against your ass, the lewd sounds of his cock ramming in and out of you filling Jongho’s ears. You feel yourself dripping down your thighs as Yeosang’s hand comes down to your clit. That seems to reignite you, an unbeatable wave of pleasure flooding over you. As Yeosang rubs circles on you, you clench down on him. He moans at the tightness, his hips and hand stuttering against you.

Jongho senses your struggling, “Remember what I said, slut,” your thighs tremble, “Or are you too cock-dumb right now?”

You shake your head but quickly fix your mistake, “N-no, Jongho,”

Your voice shakes against Yeosang’s hips pistoning into you, all rhythm lost as he chases his high. He’s practically breathing for you now, his arms wrapped around your chest while his head rests on yours. He exerts all of his power, which is quite a lot surprisingly, into making you feel every inch of his cock. Jongho’s eyes bore into yours as he watches you unravel, your glistening skin and teary eyes making his cock jump.

Just to make your torture worse, he leans into your face. His thumb pries open your lips, inviting itself into your mouth and taking control of you, “You’re the best cock-slut I’ve seen. Taking Yeosang so well. Is he making you feel good?”

His voice is silky and entrancing and you can’t help but give an honest answer, “S-so good, Jongho. Can I cum? Please?”

His sick smirk grows, “Nope.”

A desperate whine drips from your lips, the burning desire bursting through to Yeosang’s cock as you squeeze him again. This time, a myriad of beautifully pathetic whines fall from Yeosang’s lips as he’s drained by you. He stills deep inside you, letting himself fill you and mark you as his property. He watches it drip down your thighs, the pearlescent liquid falling in droplets as you tremble.

Yeosang catches you before you can fall onto the table, “I think she’s broken,”

He carries you, again with surprising ease, onto Jongho’s lap. You lay limp against him, the leather of his jacket waking you slightly as he wraps his arms around you, “Already? I haven’t even fucked you yet,”

You nod your head, “I-I can take it, I wanna cum, Jongho,”

He laughs at you, head tipping and revealing the kissable dot on his neck, “See? You’re a fucking slut, baby,” his arms wrap tighter around you, one of his hands coming down to your clit and rubbing lazily, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you,”

Yeosang sits next to you, sitting and watching the way your pussy tries to keep his cum inside. Jongho’s fingers stuff it back in, catching any that’s still stuck on your thighs and putting it back where it belongs. He brings his hand up to your lips, your mouth opening automatically and accepting what he gives. Your tongue swirls to clean every inch of his hand, licking the sweat and cum off of his skin. Jongho lets out a shaky breath behind you.

Yeosang feels his cock standing again, the sight of you so easily submitting to Jongho getting him ready to go all over again, “Fuck, I need to feel that pussy again.”

Jongho unzips his pants underneath you. You feel his cock at your entrance as he slides it in between your folds, wanting to torture you even more. He’s smaller than Yeosang but much, much thicker. Yeosang’s cum lets you take Jongho’s cock much easier, the stretch from before easing him in. You moan at the feeling, the fullness overtaking your senses.

Jongho leans back and stables himself on the floor. His voice is powerful against you, the sound of it alone making you shake in anticipation, “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, and then you can cum all over me. Understand?”

He doesn’t even let you answer before starting a wicked rhythm. He claps against you with no mercy, his grip on your hips holding you steady on his lap. It’s delicious, the way he bounces you up and down on his cock and thrusts up into you at the same time. Jongho growls as your cream and Yeosang’s cum makes a mess of the both of you. Yeosang watches your tits bounce. The stench of sex fills the room and depravity fills his senses.

The power of Jongho’s thrusts almost has you toppling over. He’s ravenous with the way he fucks you, thick cock ramming into you over and over from below. Jongho fucking loves the feeling of having you broken atop him, having you at your most vulnerable and sensitive right under his fingertips. He squeezes your hips, groaning when you squeeze back.

His head drops to the couch, letting you drop and feel every inch and vein of his cock. The stretch of him is painfully delicious. Yeosang takes this moment of pause to snake a hand to your clit, causing you to jolt when he begins rubbing circles.

“Y-yeosang…” you plead as you feel a tsunami of pleasure coming closer and closer to falling atop you.

He kisses along your neck, the ticklish sensation sending you into overdrive. Along with Jongho’s cock filling you and taking over your very being, you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle. You’re determined to follow Jongho’s rules, though.

Yeosang chuckles into your neck, “Just let her cum, Jongho,”

“Yeah, baby? Do you need to cum?” He asks flatly, slamming you down harshly onto his cock again.

“P-please, I need to cum so b-bad…”

You feel like you’re about to burst and you’re sure Jongho can feel it too. He doesn’t care, laughing as you continue to writhe and moan against Yeosang’s fingers, “I told you I’m gonna fill this pussy with my cum first, okay? Stop being so fucking cock-dumb already,”

He leans back further into the couch, bringing your back to his chest as he gathers his last bit of force to fuck up into you. He hangs off the edge of the couch slightly, but that’s not even a thought in his head as he continues to ram himself into you unforgivingly. Yeosang continues to tease and probe your bud, an evil smile forming on his face the longer he watches you unravel atop Jongho’s rabid hips.

Jongho hisses when he feels you tighten. Your hole is too fucking good, draining him for all he has. He gives one last powerful thrust before releasing his load inside of you, his balls tightening up against you as he jolts and spasms underneath you. His cock twitches inside of you and with the feeling of him finally filling you and Yeosang’s relentless fingers, you come undone. The pleasure that’s been building this entire time finally releases like a broken dam. It washes over you, unabated even after all this time. You feel every single one of your nerves explode inside you, your body seizing up against Jongho’s as your pussy tightens impossibly more to take all Jongho has to give.

Yeosang sighs against you, “Oh, angel, you take us so well,”

Just knowing that you have Yeosang’s and Jongho’s cum flowing inside you has your entire body tingling. It sends you into an even higher tier of gratification, your orgasm prolonging every time Jongho spurts another shot of cum into you.

Jongho’s voice is strained as he speaks, “Fuck, look what a fucking dirty cum-slut you are.”

It’s hard to get off of cloud nine once you’ve reached it. You can distantly hear their soft voices in the back of your head, vastly different from their tones before. You feel the leather couch underneath your back, their cum dripping out of you, and Yeosang’s hand gently running through your hair.

He tries to lure you fully awake, but that doesn’t happen until Jongho brings a warm towel to clean you. Your teary eyes squint under the light and you’re surprised at how weak you feel. Your body feels like jelly as Jongho hands Yeosang a towel to clean up the sweat on your upper body.

You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but a blur of emotions is still flowing through you, “Hey…you don’t have to…” you sleepily let out.

They don’t say anything in return so neither do you. Jongho slips your panties back on, Yeosang pulling you softly upwards to put your shirt back on. You feel surprisingly cared for after getting your brains fucked out. You hadn’t expected it from two guys who probably do this every night.

They sit with you as you gather your bearings. Jongho traces patterns onto your legs, mindlessly staring at you. It sends a different kind of heat to your body. The kind that has you shrinking into yourself, blushing and hiding your face in your hands. You pretend it’s from sleepiness, but Jongho knows better. Yeosang hums beside your head, still running his hands through your hair delicately.

You feel more alive after a while, finally gathering the energy to sit up, “This doesn’t mean I’m your groupie now, by the way,”

“You would’ve been my favorite,” Jongho grins.

Yeosang pouts, “I don’t think Hongjoong would approve,” You both raise a brow at him, “What? He has the power to kick me out of the band, I have to be careful.”

Jongho laughs aloud as you giggle alongside him. You sort of feel at home with them, and not just because they rearranged your guts. They touch you softly, in ways that say they know everything about you. You’d rather not fall into that hole. Right now, you lay content in the moment in between them in this dingy room with their hands on you.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader feel the distance

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

i casted tom blyth as y/n’s costar in this for no reason other than the fact that i love him lol

When y/n’s agent called her to tell her she got the role she had been stressing over for the past few weeks, she was over the moon and had immediately got to packing. Ever since she had started acting, she had always wanted to do a romantic comedy, and when the opportunity showed up on her radar, she knew she had to take it. Prior to the project, her “romantic” escapades on the stage and screen were fairly limited, and now that she was at a secure spot in her own romantic life, she felt like it was an idea she could finally explore.

It had been a while since she had been on set, taking a break for her and Drew’s wedding as well as to support Drew after the premiere of Queer, and she desperately yearned to be back. Don’t get her wrong, she adored spending time with Drew and her friends and family, but the need to be on set or on stage was entwined so deeply in her bones she felt like she needed it to live.

Now nearly a month into shooting her project, her glamorous and idealistic vision of being back on set had started to dwindle. Of course she loved when the cameras were on, when she could feel herself relax into her element, but as the days progressed reality began to sit in. She missed Charleston. She missed her home… she missed Drew. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was making her job harder.

“You good, y/n?” y/n’s costar, Tom, said, shaking her out of the daze she hadn’t realized she had sunken into. They were resting between takes, the two of them getting their hair and makeup touched up.

“Yeah, sorry.” Y/n said, straightening her posture and flashing Tom a grin. Tom was sweet, a true gentleman, and someone that she came to consider a friend over the course of filming.

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed a bit… off lately, no offense.” Tom looked at y/n, his face full of concern. She looked back at him for a second and, before she could stop herself, her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Shit, could we have a second, please?” Tom asked the hair and makeup team, who nodded before leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what my problem is I—” Y/n began to ramble, dabbing at her eyes with a nearby tissue, praying she hadn’t already ruined the makeup that had just been fixed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Tom said softly, handing y/n another tissue. She took it graciously, sniffling quietly.

“I just— god, this is so embarrassing!” Y/n chuckled nervously, glaring around at the numerous people who littered the set. Numerous people, all of which had people and places they missed too, but none of which were pathetically crying like herself.

“I can start crying too, if that would help.” Tom grinned, causing y/n to laugh lightly.

“No, I just… I really miss Drew, a lot more than I was expecting, I guess.” Y/n exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands along her pants.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Tom asked, resting his chin in hand.

“This morning.” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic she sounded, acting as if she hadn’t talked to him in years when in reality it had only been a matter of hours.

“Have you asked him to come to set?” Tom asked.

“No, I… I don’t want to be a burden. He’s just so busy right now.” Y/n said with a sigh.

“I promise you, he won’t think that.” Tom said, looking past y/n for a moment before standing from his chair and offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her out of her chair as they made their way back towards the stage where they were shooting. 

“I know, but…” Y/n trailed off as a girl came over, straightening out her shirt and dabbing a bit of powder under her eyes.

“He won’t.” Tom said firmly, patting her on her shoulder lightly before moving to get into position for their next scene. Y/n smiled softly, her racing mind starting to ease as the cameras began to focus on the two of them.

After finishing their morning shoot, taking a break in her trailer, and returning for a night shoot, y/n was drained. As she trudged back to her temporary apartment, y/n sorted through her keys until she found the right one. With a yawn, y/n unlocked the door and flicked on the lights before tossing her keys on the table in the entryway. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the navy suitcase near the couch… or the person sitting next to it.

“Surprise.” Drew said, a huge grin on his face.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, rushing over to him before throwing herself on top of the boy. She kissed him slowly, relishing in the intoxicating feeling she had gone so long without.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked exasperatedly once they finally pulled apart. They had discussed him coming to visit halfway through filming, but that was still a few weeks away.

“Tom called me.” Drew said, tucking a piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear as he gazed at her softly.

“No he didn’t, oh my god—” Y/n buried her face into Drew’s shirt, hoping to hide her embarrassment. Had he told him about how she was pathetically groveling all week? Crying on set?

“Hey, hey.” Drew lifted y/n gently, sitting her in his lap so she could face him. He ran his thumb softly along her warm cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. I–” Drew laughed, “I was already planning to visit you next week when Tom called me.”

“Drew I’m sorry I—” Y/n began, but was cut off when Drew ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

“I just wish you would’ve told me.” Drew said gently, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I didn’t want to be a burden, Drew.” Y/n whispered. Drew sighed, dropping his hand to grab onto her own.

“Darling, I would gladly drop everything if you needed me. You never have to worry about that.” Drew said, soothing her hand. She looked up at him, the soft smile on his face and the sincere tone of his voice, and knew that he was being genuine. All of that worrying about how he would react melted away, replaced with the comfort Drew’s presence gave.

“Thank you, Drew. I’m sorry for not talking to you.” Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Drew. He hugged her tighter, tucking his face into her neck. His warm breath and stubble tickled, causing her to giggle in his grasp.

“What’s so funny?” Drew said teasingly, rubbing his chin against her jawline, causing her to laugh harder and fall onto her back. Drew propped himself onto his forearms, grinning down at her. She reached up, pushing his messy hair back.

“I love you, Drew.” Y/n smiled, looking up at Drew’s wide smile and crinkled, blue eyes. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the soft taste of mint lingering on his tongue.

“I love you.” He whispered, running his hands along her side as he pressed a line of kisses along her jaw. Here, wrapped in Drew’s arms, she was home.

[dilfluvrr10]

Joost x music journalist!reader where joost invites them for a show and they thinks its for work but actually he did it bc he likes them 🤭

Guysss I just wrote thisss. This is my first fanfiction I've ever written, pls pls pls feel free to send through any feedback good and bad. I really hope I managed to satisfy your request. Thank you <3

Lmk if you're interested in a Part 2

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮ The Interview ╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

I looked through my closet unsure of what to wear, do I go concert or casual tonight? This was going to be huge for my career, interviewing THE Joost Klein, so of course I was stressing over every detail. I settled on a classic little black dress, nothing too much, enough to make a good first impression. I glanced at the time repeatedly while doing my makeup, the closer it crept to 7:00pm, the more anxiety started eating at me. I packed my bag and drove to the venue, practicing each and every question, my facial expressions, my laugh, my smile, every detail. I admit, Joost was an attractive man, a confident man, and a great musician, maybe that’s why I was so worked up. That’s definitely why I was so worked up. I’d been following Joost’s career before his stardom reached an all time high after Eurovision, I had to remind myself to keep my composure and leave any fangirling behind.

When I received the invitation I was absolutely thrilled, jumping up and down like I was a teenage girl again. However, it was different from the usual press releases I’ve received, addressed to me specifically instead of my publication. Despite my usual professional demeanour, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. When I finally arrived at the venue my anticipation only intensified. I glanced in the rear view mirror one last time, ensuring every hair was in place, took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. I had been instructed to enter through the same way production entered and meet Joost in the green room before he was expected on stage. Backstage was buzzing, ensuring everything for tonight’s performance was perfect. I navigated through the organized chaos, my heart pounding with each step closer to the green room.

There he was sitting around a table laughing and joking with his friends in Dutch. “Heyyy you’re here! I’m so happy you came”, his signature smile plastered on his face causing one of my own in response. He told his friends we were doing an interview and to so kindly leave, each one greeting me with that European charm before exiting the room. He gestured for me to sit down where comfortable. He sat loosely on the couch, adorned in black jeans, a white button up paired with a black tie and his signature thick rimmed glasses and gloves to tie it all together. God black was his colour. His cuffs rolled up, revealing a scatter of tattoos on his forearms and biceps. I sat on the chair closest to him but not on the couch next to him, trying to keep it as professional as possible. I really wanted to squeal, ask him for a photo and tell him all about how much his music resonated with me.

“Thank you so much for the invitation, I really appreciate this Joost”, my nerves slipped away as we began talking, his energy warm and inviting. “No, no, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now actually…” his words hung in the air, his eyes darted around my face as if he was unsure how I would react. “Really, you know me?” I was stunned by the idea of Joost being aware of my work. A soft smile played at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “You’re works amazing, you have this way of talking to people that just…opens them up, you know?”, the sincerity of his words hit me hard. My heart fluttered and I felt my professionalism slowly decay. He shifted in his seat adjusting his pants and clearing his throat. He was feeling the change of mood too. As I thought of something to say to change the subject I noticed his gaze kept falling to my lap. My dress had lifted a bit, my thighs exposed a little. I began to feel hot and bothered, my cheeks burning red, his subtle smirk didn’t escape my notice, only adding to my discomfort. He clocked on to my embarrassment, shamefully, it fed him with confidence. “I used to watch your videos on YouTube, when you were working independently. Seeing you now here in front of me…you’ve really, grown up” he cooed with a meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the rush of heat that grew in my body. “Thank you Joost, that means a lot coming from you,” I replied, hoping to steer the conversation back to professional grounds. “So, how are you feeling about tonight’s concert? Any pre-show rituals?”

He chuckled, the sound sultry and pleasant. “Just hanging out with my friends, like you saw. We try to keep it light and fun. Music is about connecting with people, so I try to keep that spirit alive before I go on stage.” I nodded, jotting down notes even though I recorded interviews on my phone. It was more to keep my hands busy and give me something to focus on other than his heavy gaze. Our conversation flowed easily after that, and the interview wrapped up nicely. He stood up, offering his hand to help me up from the chair. His touch was warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m glad we finally got to meet,” his eyes held mine for a heartbeat longer before he glanced away, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanour.

Just then, one of his crew members popped their head into the room, announcing that it was time for Joost to get ready. He turned to me, his smile back in full force. “Enjoy the show. I’ll make sure you have a great view.”

I smiled back, my heart fluttering again. “I’m sure I will.”

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 4

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

"Who was that?" Max asks having seen the Mercedes ahead of him, no longer racing.

"I can confirm that is George Russell" you say calmly looking at the on-board seeing that the number 63 had stopped movement on the map.

"What happened?" Max asks.

"Focus on the race Max, Norris is closing that gap" you sigh, checking the tires and the breaks which looked like Max was wearing them out a little more than anticipated.

"If Norris pits, we will pit, if he stays out we stay out. Protect the tires and bring it home" you advise there wasn't many laps left and you were starting to sweat from the sun that had moved so it was now on your back in the box.

"Okay, copy" he says, he took the corners softer while keeping that gap with Norris.

"Okay, it looks like Norris isn't going to pit, Christian is debating to come in for tires" you explain to him, you look over at Christian who is analysisng the data.

"What do you think?" he asks you.

"I advised we stay out if Norris stays out, Norris is on fresher tires by 3 laps, but we are the faster car. The tires will hold until the end" you suggest and he nods.

"Okay, no pit. 12 laps to go, Norris is 2 seconds behind. Push Mode Push" you say, nodding at Horner as you both watch the on-board of Max, he's having an amazing drive today.

12 laps later and Max crosses the checkered flag. You and Christian cheer and hug each other.

"That's P1 Max, P1 in Brazil" you say into the radio, a grin on your face. You hear his cheer and thanks before your running with the rest of the team to go congratulate Max. You get crushed by the Pit Crew as the gather around you and Max squeezing all of you.

The podium was amazing and you were filming the whole thing while talking to Geri next to you. You couldn't be prouder of this moment. You see the cameras on you, making you wave and smile excitedly before frowning and pointing for them to look at Max and his podium rather than film you.

"Well done Max" you smile as he hops down off the stage and towards you both.

"George has been watching you this whole time, just so you know" Max offers leaning in and whispering to you so that no-one else could here. You look over his shoulder, seeing he was in fact right and that George was glaring at the back of his head, watching the interaction between the both of you.

"I'm not ready to talk to him yet, I know i said I'd talk to him here, but its too soon. Is that childish of me?" you ask, not sure if this was right.

"No, after how he acted, he deserves more than the cold shoulder. I have an interview and you have a piece with Netflix I believe. I'll tell him that after Abu Dhabi you'll review your situation, how is that?" Max asks looking at you, you nod pulling him back into a hug before nodding and looking away.

"Thank you Max, really!" You smile turning back round to catch his gaze before finding the Netflix crew and where you'd sit to start your piece.

You walk in, and they make sure you hair and makeup is looking good before they explain to you what they want you to do.

"So you want me to walk in, sit down and smile at you guys before saying something funny?" you ask unsure of how this would even work.

"Yeah, we want this to be as natural as possible. It's going to cut from Max's old engineer walking off... which we filmed last week to you walking in" the director smiles.

You walk into the line of the camera, before turning round and taking your seat, smiling at the camera.

"Get a load of that guy am I right?" you laugh, and everyone in the room joins in laughing.

"Hi, I'm Y/N Wolff and I am Max Verstappen's race engineer for Red Bull Racing" you smile into the camera again.

"So you came into the season quite late... but you haven't disappointed" the interviewer says.

"I guess you could say that"

"And, it's an interesting last name you have there. One that's already known in the F1 media very well..." they push.

"The team principle of Mercedes Amg Petronas is my dad, yes" you say.

"And now you are working for a rival... which came out of the blue may i say"

"Yes"

"And do you have any regrets"

"One"

"And what is that?"

"That I didn't go to Horner sooner" you say with a blank face and they all clap.

You go onto to be questioned about the whole ordeal with George and your dad, you knew the fans would eat all of this up.

They offer you to stay around while Will Buxton comes in to do his first bit about the new Mercedes V Red Bull drama that Netflix were of course eating up.

It was sad really, because you'd genuinely been hurt by George's and your fathers actions and there were people monopolizing off it.

"Y/N has always been a character in the Mercedes garage from when she was really young at age 11 up until she was a teen studying in the garage... and there's something really quite endearing about her when you talk to her" he starts and you smile, Will used to baby sit you around the paddock in his free time when Toto was busy during the races.

"I've known Y/N for 10 years now, as long as her dad's been in the sport and she a bright girl"

"There was no surprise when she came and told me she'd enrolled into university to do engineering. I would also remember Toto shaking his head, asking what she would even use it for"

"I think when she got that degree, she would have asked him for a job and he's declined, which is where Red Bull and Christian Horner come into things"

"Thanks Will, just pause there for a second! Okay so when we edit this, we need Christian Horner straight after nodding and saying Hello" the script writer says and his assistant nods writing it down on the paper she was holding.

You eventually left, seeing what goes into the creativity behind the episodes before getting bored and wanting to go back to the hotel.

Max agreed he'd fly you on his Jett wherever you wanted, and in all honestly you didn't know where to go. It wasn't like you wanted to go home to your dad. And you were fresh out of university so you didn't exactly have your own place.

Lewis, you knew would take you in a heart beat but he was going to LA for the week before the Las Vegas GP and you wanted to go to the UK, your home.

You pick up your phone scrolling through your contacts before finding the one you wanted to call. It rings a few times before a bubbly and energetic voice answers.

"Hello Darling, are you all okay?" Geri says to you, you could practically here her smile through the phone.

"Hi, Geri..." you say a little timidly.

"What's wrong, do you need me and Christian to come get you?" she asks.

"No, no. I just I dont really have anywhere to go until Vegas and I w-" you start but don't need to say anymore before Geri interrupts.

"Oh honey, our home is always open to you. Your a great help around the house too, especially with the kids. Call that garden view rooms yours from now on okay! In fact when we get back I'll have a key made for you, Christian can we do that?" she explains before her voice gets more distant as if she's pulled the phone away from herself.

"Do what?" you hear Christians voice ask muffled from the distance.

"Get Y/N a spare key, when we are back obviously" Geri asks.

"She doesn't have one already. I thought I gave her the spare..." Christian offer's and then mumbles about how he must have forget.

"Anyway darling that room is yours okay. Don't worry" Geri says making tears come into your eyes.

"Thank you Geri, really. I" you say and immediately the older woman can tell that your getting upset.

"Oh no sweetheart, don't get upset. It's okay" she tells you.

"I'm just really thankful"

"I know, hunny. But i've got to go Max is needing an escape route from an interview. But I'm sending him straight to you and he's gonna drive us to the hotel to get our stuff" Geri says and you hang up after thanking her a few more times.

You hung up, sighing happily before looking around you. You lock eyes with someone across the paddock.

George, of course it was George. You braced yourself for him to come up to you, trying to apologize and grovel.

But to your surprise he stayed where he was with Alex and Lando who was talking to the pair of them rather animatedly. He gave you a nod and a small smile, stopping walking making Alex and Lando also stop and continue that conversation stationary.

That told you everything. From the nod to the smile, he finally accepted that you'd come to him when you were ready.

Now you could concentrate on Vegas and Abu Dhabi and getting those points to finalize Max's year.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog

[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

[princesskaulitz]

dating bill kaulitz

✮ bill kaulitz sfw headcanons

✮ bill x fem! reader, 20+ headcanons, sfw, 2008 bill, i only proofread like half of it sorry 💀

✮ A/N: i decided i wanted to start writing tokio hotel stuff so this is my attempt at that bc i was bored and wrote a bunch of random bill hc’s 😌 feel free to request ideas anonymously or just leave a comment.

random headcanons:

✮ yk how fans always throw him stuffed animals onto the stage? if he sees one he knows you’ll like, he always makes sure to grab it for you.

✮ after his concerts, you’re the first person he runs to. he hugs you and just expresses all his excitement to you. it’s adorable.

✮ speaking of hugging, he sometimes almost knocks you down when he hugs you because he’s a giant compared to you.

✮ if you ask him to help you with your hair/makeup he always happily obliges.

✮ he always tells you his ideas for his songs and sometimes he’ll sing some lines for you to get your opinion on how it sounds.

✮ he loves to yap. especially when he has a lot of energy or he’s in a good mood, he just won’t shut up. but of course you don’t mind, you always listen to every word that comes out of his mouth even if it’s him randomly singing.

spending the night with him:

✮ i feel like he would want to take you on tours with him so you’d be staying in his hotel room with him.

✮ you would wear one of his shirts and some panties to be comfortable for bed and he would get so flustered. he’d try not to look too much but he also can’t help himself.

✮ he would looooove to cuddle. as soon as you lay in bed, he would immediately magnetize to you.

✮ you’d be watching something on your phone and he’d be watching it too as he cuddles with you, he’d love the smell of your hair and your perfume. he’d rub your sides and your hips and thighs and he’d give you kisses on your neck and your cheek.

✮ eventually he’d want your attention so he’d reach over and turn off your phone.

✮ he’d absolutely want all the lovins. he wants you to play with his hair, caress his face, scratch his back. everything.

✮ i feel like he’d have conversation with you while he lays in your lap and you run your fingers through his hair.

✮ you’d tell him how pretty his features are and even in a sleepy, utterly relaxed state, he’d smile.

✮ his voice is so relaxing and it would put you to sleep almost instantly

✮ he’d cuddle with you all night unless it gets hot, then he’d gently push you away.

✮ if you turn your back to him while you’re sleeping and he wakes up and finds you that way, he always pulls you back over to him.

✮ he’s totally a blanket stealer and he’d pull the blankets back if you try to take them from him, in a half asleep, grumpy state because you woke him up. (he’s a light sleeper)

✮ he doesn’t move too much in his sleep but if you do, he would get mad only if you wake him up.

✮ if you’re someone with restless leg syndrome and you jump your leg when you’re trying to fall asleep, he would always reach over and put his hand on your leg to make you stop or he’d ask you to stop if he’s too sleepy to move.

✮ his long ass legs take up the entire bed. he’s always kicking you on accident.

✮ he doesn’t mind if you take up the whole bed, as long as part a of you is touching him, he’s happy.

when you guys argue

✮ bill admits he’s stubborn so it usually takes him a moment to realize when he’s in the wrong

✮ when he does realize, he uses gestures to apologize. he’ll hug you and kiss you

✮ I imagine you’d be folding your clothes or something and he’d come up behind you and hug you from behind. he’d take your hands away from whatever you’re doing and hold them and he’d kiss your cheek and tell you how beautiful you are, whispering a simple “I’m sorry” before giving you more kisses.

✮ he’d be extra clingy the rest of the day, just to assure you’re not mad at him.

texting/calling him

✮ he loves it when you send him pictures of yourself, especially when you’re showing him your outfits. he’ll always tell you how cute you are.

✮ i imagine if you asked him for his input on how to spruce up your outfits, he’d be happy to help.

✮ he’s definitely the type to send a million voice messages when something happens or he’s exited or he has gossip to tell you and you’re not available to call.

✮ you’d ask him for selfies but he doesn’t like to send them if he doesn’t have makeup on. he does anyways though because you beg him.

(that’s all i can think of, i might make more eventually.)

[irwinsblender]

hiii could i request a luke x fem reader where reader has pots and its a bad day for her but shes on tour with the boys so she has to do her best to stay well? luke begs her to take breaks but she’s their hair or makeup artist and physically cant take a break until the show is over 😭 so basically just some cute fluff of luke fussing over his sick and dizzy gf :)) i have pots and i never get to read this sort of stuff so it would be great to have some rep written ^^

hi!! thank you so much for sending this in! again apologising for taking so long to get to this request but hopefully this fic turns out okay!

—

take it easy

pairing: luke x reader

summary: you’ve been travelling around with your boyfriend, luke, on the bands tour doing their hair and make up here and there while also trying to manage your pots symptoms within their busy schedules

warnings: none?

word count: 3.7k

✩ ✩ ✩

Getting to go on tour with your boyfriend, Luke, and his band had always been one of your favourite things to experience. It was heartwarming to see him and your friends up on that stage, enjoying every second of performing. Living out their dream.

Luke loved you being there, never having to spend a minutes away from you for the long times they tour for. He loved that you got to to watch them every night.

Not only were you there to watch the shows, but you were a qualified hair stylist along with knowing your fair share about make up.

You helped the guys get ready before their shows each night, making sure their hair looked good by using hairspray and sometimes hair gel. If it was a lucky day you wouldn’t have to use either.

Luke was the only one who you did make up for, although you knew he was capable of doing a good job on his own, he always insisted that you do it for him.

One thing that came along with travelling for a tour was busy schedules, late nights and early mornings, rushing around if things didn’t quite run on time or having to suddenly change plans. It was a lot to deal with for you.

Especially with what you have to deal with in your day to day life.

You had been dealing with pots for quite a few years now, the not being able to sleep properly, the headaches, other aches and pains, having to take it easy if you were feeling dizzy to ensure you didn’t pass out. it was difficult.

Luke was always there to make sure you were okay. Sometimes he knew before you did that you would have a bad flare up, making sure you rested properly and didn’t overdo it.

Some days were better than others, you could get up like normal, go about your day with the band, easily do their hair and make up without any issues. Other days, you knew a bad flare up was coming before even starting the day, knowing you’d have to try and compromise to still help out.

Today was one of those days.

You had to sleep on the bus after a show last night to travel to the next tour stop. Sleeping in the tiny bunks where there was hardly enough room to move had never been your idea of a comfortable nights sleep. And so, you didn’t get nearly enough sleep.

As soon as you woke up, you could feel the throbbing pain in your head, a bad headache that would surely last a while. Knowing that would add to any other symptoms you may get.

You could hear the guys on the bus, chatting away to one another, talking about the previous show as well as plans for tonight’s show too.

Having to get out of bed was the hardest part, not knowing exactly how bad things would be. Would you be okay to move around like normal? Or would you need to lay down to take breaks?

Standing up from your bunk felt okay. You didn’t feel too unbalanced apart from your worsening headache. It was only once you stood fully upright that you knew things were bad.

Losing your balance before you could get far, Luke rushed over to you as quick as he could, holding onto you to make sure you didn’t fall.

He brought you over to the front of the bus, getting you to sit down with ashton while he got you a water and painkillers to help with your headache. He sat with you after that, making sure you recovered from being dizzy before letting you get ready for the day.

After you tried to convince him that you felt okay, he let you do what you needed to do. Going into the bathroom and closing the door behind you to freshen up.

You did as you always would do, washing your face, brushing your teeth, everything you usually did before heading to the back of the tour bus to get dressed.

You took longer than normal today, understandably of course. By the time you were ready, things were running slightly behind schedule.

There was still enough time though. You and the guys left the tour bus, heading into the back entrance of the venue away from where any fans were lining up for the show.

Inside, you were lead through a main area, through a backstage door which took you to the dressing rooms and where all of the equipment was.

In the first dressing room, you all got settled. The guys spreading themselves out around the room, taking drinks from the mini fridge, talking about things for the show tonight, discussing what songs to sing for soundcheck after their own.

It didn’t take long for them to have to go and do their private soundcheck. Which you opted to stay behind for.

It was the same once the time came around for the vip soundcheck, you stayed behind in the dressing room.

You told Luke it was purely to rest up, try and re settle yourself before having to be standing up for a while doing all of their hair and make up. He believed you, but in reality you still weren’t feeling quite like yourself.

While you could hear the soundcheck happening, you moved yourself to the counter where the mirror was. Setting up your hair products and any make up Luke might want to choose from.

Doing all of this, you were sitting on a chair in front of the counter and mirrors. Hair spray bottle and gel pot to the left, along with a hair brush and comb. Your make up was in a box, some concealer, beauty blenders, brushes along with a few palettes of eyeshadow and finally eyeliner.

It was easy to know when the band was done with soundcheck, their loud voices and laughs echoing through the hall.

They burst into the room, seeing you had moved. Calum plopped himself down on the sofa, resting his feet on the coffee table. Michael joined him, scrolling on his phone. Ashton let everyone know he was going to the bathroom, which left Luke who came over to you.

“Hi, lovie,” he wrapped his arms around the top of your shoulders, leaning his head atop yours as he looked at you though the mirror.

“Hey, rockstar,” you shuffled slightly, leaning to look up at luke. “How’d it go?”

“Went great,” Luke smiled excitedly. “We played an extra song that the fans were chanting for, just about remembered the lyrics. right, Cal?”

“Hey!” calum complained from his comfortable position on the couch. “I’m not the one who forgot the fuckin’ guitar chords.”

“We haven’t played the song since, I don’t know, four tours ago?” Michael smacked calum’s arm.

“Well I’m sure they loved it anyway,” you shook your head at the bickering pair.

Luke stepped back from you, knowing this was about time to start sorting things out. You stood from your chair, maybe slightly too quickly.

You had been sitting down for a while and should’ve taken more time to be up right again. You gripped onto the counter, keeping yourself balanced.

“Babe—“

“I’m fine,” you held one hand out to stop him. “Just give me a second.”

It was quiet in the room then. Michael and Calum paying attention to what was going on.

You needed to get yourself together, you had a show to prepare for. Four band members sort out. You could last a few more hours.

You turned towards the two on the couch, leaning back against the counter, “Who’s first?” You pointed to the chair beside you. “Hair first, any make up last.”

“Are you sure you’re up for doing this?” Luke quietly spoke, letting Michael and Calum decide who would go first. “You can take a night off, it’s alright.”

“You’ve got a show to be ready for,” you stepped back, Luke following to let Calum have space to take a seat. “This is my job here, gotta make sure you four are looking your best for the fans.”

“And you offered to do this job for us, it’s okay if you’re having a flare up and need to take a break for tonight.”

You moved to stand behind calum, fluffing his hair from side to side, “Don’t think you’d be able to tame this mop without me,” you laughed, covering up how groggy you were feeling. “Go change into whatever you’re gonna wear for the show, I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t—“

“Baby, i’ll be okay.”

He reluctantly nodded. Wanting to pull you in for a hug before letting you get to work on Calum’s hair. You let him, wrapping your arms around his back as you felt him rubbing his hands up and down yours.

“Don’t rush anything,” he pressed a feather light kiss to your cheek. “Take your time.”

“I will,” you smiled softly, understanding his worry for you. “Now you should rest until your show, don’t need you getting tired out on stage.”

“Here you are not feeling good and you’re still worrying about little ol’ me,” Luke stepped back from you, making his way over to the snack bar.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you at the same time, Lu,” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He picked up a packet of chips, sitting down next to Michael on the black fabric sofa. You turned your focus to Calum, picking up the hair spray and a comb.

You started fixing up his hair so it looked more tamed than his usual messy, curly hair. Not that his hair didn’t look great, it’s just easier to handle on stage with some spray in.

After a little bit of time, it was finished, “How’s that?” You asked him, making sure there wasn’t anything else he wanted you to do.

“Looks perfect to me,” he smiled at you in the mirror.

At the same time, Ashton walked back into the dressing room, seeing where they were at with things. Noticing Calum getting up, he took it upon himself to decide it was his turn.

“Hey,” you placed your hands on his shoulders. “What are we doing today?”

“Getting you a fuckin’ chair, that’s what,” Ashton turned to look around the room. “Why is there only one chair?”

“Ash, I’m all good,” you moved beside him, placing the hairspray and gel there. “Which one.”

He looked up at you, taking a breath. Pointing to the gel. You opened up the pot, reaching for the spray bottle before doing anything.

“Gonna go fill this up,” you started walking towards the door of the dressing room when a wave of dizziness washed over you.

You took a few oddly placed steps as you stumbled to the side, squeezing your eyes shut as you braced yourself against the wall nearest to you.

Luke stood abruptly, heavy footsteps pacing over to you. He stepped behind you, arms wrapped around your front to help you stay standing without having to hold yourself up using the wall.

You leaned your head back against Luke’s chest, taking a deep breath to try and settle your vision and your heart that seemed to be starting to race.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Luke soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You need to take it easy, come and sit down, just relax for a bit.”

“But, I’ve only done Calum’s hair,” you weakly replied.

“It’s okay, we can handle things for tonight,” Luke reassured you, starting to slowly walk you over to the sofa.

You made sure to open your eyes again once you felt where he was taking you, grasping onto his arms around you to keep yourself steady.

He cautiously lowered you to sit down before he sat too, placing his hands on your shoulders to guide you to lay with your head in his lap.

Luke took hold of your right hand, placing two fingers against the pulse point in your wrist. You stayed quiet while he did so, allowing him to do as he always did when he wanted to make sure you would be okay.

“Can someone get me some ice water?” Luke asked, looking to ashton who had been standing since you became dizzy, Michael was with Calum behind the couch.

“I’ll go find some ice,” Michael walked to the door, leaving right away.

Luke was still feeling your pulse, so you shuffled, laying so you could look up at him from a better angle. He gave a sympathetic smile which you returned.

“Feel any better now you’re lying down?” He asked.

“Kinda,” you said as Ashton appeared in your sight. “Ash, I could probably do your hair if you sit down—“

“I think you’re done for the night,” Luke interrupted. “I’m putting you on strict bed rest.”

You chuckled at his phrasing. Only talking like that because you’re meant to follow doctors orders. You knew he was just worried and trying to look out for you.

“You know too much bed rest will make things worse, Lu,” you reminded, trying to sit yourself up slightly. “Seriously, I can do more from here.”

“Y/n.”

Calum chuckled from across the room, “you know she won’t rest for a second until we’re all ready, mate,” he stuffed a piece of chocolate from the counter into his mouth. “How about a compromise.”

You squinted your eyes at him, now leaning against Luke’s shoulder to sit more straight. Moving slowly of course.

“I’m listening.”

He walked over, stopping short of the table in front of the couch, “If you keep doing our hair and make up now,” he started. “You have to take the day off tomorrow, get some extra rest.”

“There’s a show tomorrow night though, Cal.”

“But we’re up in a hotel tonight,” he widened his eyes. “Means comfier sleep, a nice bed to get a lay in that you probably haven’t had for at least a week.”

He did have a point. You loved doing this for the guys, you’ve practically done it since Luke introduced you to them; they all see what flare ups are like and know when to you should stop pushing your limits.

“He has a point,” Michael appeared from the hall, ice water in hand.

“We could all use more rest tomorrow,” Ashton agreed too. “Some more than others.”

Referring to you as he finished talking. Luke reached to brush your hair behind your ears, knowing by the look on your face you were considering this.

“I think you should, lovie,” Luke holds your hand in his, linking your fingers together softly. “We still have a lot of shows to come so you need to get all the rest you can.”

“Okay…” you sighed in defeat. “I’ll take the night off tomorrow.”

“I know you don’t want to,” Luke could sense you didn’t really want to. “But you especially need it, alright?”

You nodded at him. Managing to lean over towards him to peck his lips softly in thanks for looking out for you so well.

Next you were looking at Ashton, pointing to the floor in front of you for him to sit down. You would finish his hair like this, then Michael’s and Luke’s. You would make this work for them, not wanting to let them down.

Before doing anything, you took the ice water from Michael, taking a few slow sips. Feeling the cool liquid was a refreshing feeling, hopefully it would help.

You got to work on Ashton’s hair, using the spray bottle of water along with a little bit of hair gel after to really form the curls on his head. It turned out pretty well.

Next Michael sat in front of you, not a lot needed doing to his. Just a little hair spray here and there before he was completely happy with it.

Luke was last, although you didn’t waste a second to tell him his hair always looked perfect anyways. The fluffy curls, hair grown longer down the back to almost form a mullet style was definitely something you loved.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked while Luke stayed beside you on the couch. “Hair spray? Gel?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

“Okay um…” you thought for a moment. “Can i do what i did to ash’s hair?”

Luke nodded, wanting to give you free range with this for once. He hoped it might cheer you up if he let you do your own thing.

He sat down on the floor in front of you, settling back against the couch. You ran your hands through his hair, it was just to untangle it, however, you did like running your fingers through his blonde curls.

You reached for the spray bottle, gathered a tiny amount of hair gel. Luke’s curls were one of your favourite things, especially making sure a few small ones hung around the front of his face.

“You can go check it looks okay,” you told him.

He got up, walking to the mirror, he looked around at it, quickly walking back to you.

“Looks great, baby,” he smiled, sitting with you again. “Make up now?”

“Yea, let me just get my palettes.”

You sat on the edge of the sofa, wanting to do this yourself. Luke placed his hand on your knee, giving you a look. Knowing this was always hard for you, you liked doing things for yourself. Not having your friends waiting hand and foot on what you needed.

Luke stood up, holding his hands out for you to take, “Gonna walk you over,” he explained. “If you get dizzy just tell me.”

You took his hands, your feet slowly padding across the carpet. Luke walked backwards, taking you over to the counter to collect your makeup supplies.

It was only when you were going back to where you had just been sat that you could feel your heart rate picking up again. A small pain forming in your chest.

“Need to sit back down,” you rushed, an uncomfortable but familiar look on your face.

“Ash, can you grab the make up from her?” Luke asked as he was the closest.

He took everything from your hands, letting luke quickly get you back on the couch to sit down. He watched as you took a breath, thinking about the show ahead of them.

You loved watching them perform, especially Luke. but he had to do the difficult thing, only looking out for your health. Knowing you might not be able to watch the show the same as you did most nights.

“Feel up to doing some make up?” He double checked, you responded with a nod. “Do something simple, maybe some inner corner glitter.”

Ashton handed you the concealer and eyeshadow along with a couple of brushes. Luke sat down next to you, facing you so you could get this make up on him. It appeared harder than you though at this angle.

“Here— just—“ Luke pulled you gently onto his lap, legs either side of his. His hands rested on your hips. “Gonna keep my hands on you in case you get dizzy again.”

“Yea, this is better.”

You leaned closer, placing a small amount of concealer around his eyes. Blending it into his natural skin tone before reaching for the eyeshadow.

You put some blueish glittery eyeshadow on your pinky finger, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger to keep his head steady.

As you started putting the make up on him, he couldn’t help but look at you. Admiring your features, the light freckles covering your cheeks, the pure concentration in your eyes as you tried to get this make up to look perfect.

He loved that you were here on tour with him, you got to experience each city together. Plus he could take care of you if you did have any trouble with your pots.

“I can feel you staring,” you leaned back to gather some more glitter for his other eye.

“Sorry,” he whispered, not wanting to distract from your concentration. “You’re just beautiful.”

You stopped what you were doing, smiling softly, “I appreciate you caring about me so much while we’re here,” you placed your hands on his face, caressing your thumbs back and forth. “I know I can be stubborn at times but it’s good to have you to tell me to just chill for a while.”

“Well, it’s something that stops you doing the things you wanna do, I get that you don’t wanna put things on hold all the time,” Luke sympathised with you. “But I love you a lot, and want what’s best for you.”

“I love you too, bubba,” you leaned forwards for a hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

You’d stayed like that for a couple of minutes too long, hearing someone clearing their throat. You both looked over to your left, Calum holding a shirt and pants in his hands.

“I hate to ruin this nice moment,” he nodded over to Ashton who had apparently left the room to change into his stage outfit. “We don’t have long until we need to be ready.”

“Got it,” you understood. Quickly finishing up Luke’s make up so he could change too.

It wasn’t long after that before all of the guys had changed into their various stage outfits, earpieces attached carefully so to not get disconnected. Opener up on stage who would be done 30 minutes before their set.

While waiting for the guys, you’d been sitting and resting, deciding you could give standing up a try. You managed to follow your friends to the stage area, Luke slipping his hand into yours as you took your time with walking.

“We’ll be off in about an hour and thirty minutes,” luke told you, hands in his as you heard the final preshow song playing. “And there’s a chair out there if you wanna watch and feel dizzy at all, or it’s totally fine if you hang back in the dressing room.”

“You know i’ll be out there watching,” you stood on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek softly before they all got given the word to get ready. “Maybe not dancing as much this time but I’ll be out there.”

“You’ll be okay?” Luke asked once more as he had to step away to get his guitar adjusted.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassured. watching as the guys started heading towards the stage. “Go have a good show, rockstar.”

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: @hexsdexs @conspiracy-ash @oliviah-25 @superbloomrry @jake-and-johnnies-slut | if you would like to join my taglist, please comment here or see this post

[megumislovedoll]

COOL WITH YOU 💽

01: obnoxious music

NOTES ! this chapter is based on this newjeans performance I recommend watching it for a better reading experience

Megumi’s pov yesterday 10pm

megumi is fast asleep when he hears a loud blast of pop music and yelling from down the hall. What are they so excited for at this time? He tries pulling his pillow over his ears, but the music is super loud something obnoxiously catchy, like, “I’m super shy, super shy…”followed by Yuji and Toge screaming the lyrics.

“What the fuck…” he mutters, finally throwing his blanket off and leaving his room.

He walks into the living room, finding Yuji and Toge eyes too glued to the screen to even notice him. “What the hell are you guys screaming for? It’s like 10pm. Don’t you have class tomorrow?” He mumbled, but they can barely hear him.

“Y/N’S MAKEUP IS SOOOO GOOD!” Yuji kicks his feet, followed by Toge’s just as equally excited, “No, ‘cause Riko ate that outfit!”

Megumi groans as Yuta pokes his head out of his own room. “Can you get them to shut up… please?” Megumi pleads and Yuta sighs. 

Then raises his voice to get their attention. “What are you guys even watching at this time? Could you at least turn it down?”

“The NewJeans performance I told you about!” Toge responds.

“Ohh, I forgot you told me about that” he walks over to the side of the couch to see the screen.

Megumi raises an eyebrow. The hell is NewJeans? He sighs, but as he turns to leave, Yuji tugs him onto the couch.

“Just sit down and watch, Megumi. A little watching can’t hurt!”

Megumi puts his head on his forehead annoyed as hell but he begrudgingly sits down, glancing at the screen, where a girl in the middle of the group seems to stand out. I mean why wouldn’t she if she’s in the middle she’s obviously important for something. Yuta leans over. “Wait, Toge, who’s who again?”

Toge points. “White top with a ponytail and bow is Y/N. Two pigtails in the cropped shirt is Riko, two buns and black shirt is Nobara, two pigtails with a normal shirt is Maki, and the girl with the sheer shirt I think she’s wearing a bun is Miwa.”

“Oh… okay.” Yuta finally sits down. Megumi watches the girl in the center. “So, the girl in the middle is Y/N?”

“Yup,” Yuji says, eyes glued to the screen.

They do look pretty cool, Megumi thinks, but before he can comment, the song ends. They bow, and he sighs with relief. “Alright, so they’re done now. Can you guys turn off the—”

“Nope!” Yuji yanks him back onto the couch. “They’ve got a second performance for OMG!”

Megumi groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions.

yn pov yesterday 10:10pm

A crowd of stylists and assistants bustled around her, hurrying her down the hallway toward a dressing room for a quick change. She had no idea where the rest of her group was, but that didn’t matter; what mattered was that the whole group had ten minutes tops to get into these over-the-top outfits and fix their makeup. 

No time to worry about anything else.

As soon as she got to the room, someone handed her part of her costume, and she slipped it on as fast as she could. An assistant crouched down to help with the tricky stuff—her boots, which were more like armor, and some wings they’d attached to her back. Honestly, though? She wasn’t even that stressed. This was just part of being an idol. She’d done crazier quick changes before.

Finally dressed, she was escorted backstage, where she spotted Riko waiting. Her friend’s eyes lit up, and Riko beamed at her. “You look amazing! The blonde braids looks so good on you.”

She squealed back, “No, brown hair on you is everything!” Riko didn’t get a chance to thank her before they saw Nobara, Maki, and Miwa approaching. The five of them all started talking at once, pointing out little details of each other’s outfits.

“We still have like three minutes left,” Miwa said, glancing around the stage. “And the set is so cute! We should take a picture.”

“But we have to do it quick! Cameras will go live any second,” Maki said, already positioning herself.

They scrambled onto the stage, posing as Riko took the picture. Just then, a loud voice from backstage called the countdown: “Ten, Nine, Eight…”

Hearing the countdown they rushed off the stage, barely managing to contain their laughter.

Three, Two, One, action! 

COOL WITH YOU 💿

EXTRA ! this is the picture they took on stage:

the people backstage were pissed at them for getting on the stage when they weren’t supposed to

maki has always had the most fangirls

it was lowk hard for the group to dance in those heavy shoes but they persevered TAGLIST ! @cinnamxnangel @sorenflyinn @beepbopzlorp @angelcakkess @ibeatmywifeandkidss @h-aecat @megumisluciouslashes @gumims @starrysho @tlissablr @kiss-my-asscheeks @good-mourning0 @mikikoo @1l-ynn @stillnotherapy @kzoyu @brideads @mikko-mikko @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @hanniemylovelyquokka @adoremae @ocyeanicc

if your tag doesn’t work please fix it in your settings

©megumislovedoll all rights reserved. do not translate, repost on other platforms, modify, or copy.

[ya-zz]

I have a quick question if you don't mind me asking. Can you please do one where a gender neutral reader is a secret singer? Like they walk on stage and their partner recognizes them even with a costume and makeup. Can I please request Hanzo, Genji, Moira, Lucio, Ramattra, Zenyatta Junker Queen, Junkrat, and Roadhog to be the ones who are the partner who figures out that they're dating a popular singer.

There was a lot to this, but I hope it's okay! (I also haven't slept when I upload this, so I apologise for any mistakes or errors.)

I'll add everything under the cut, but here is a main scenario you can use or make your own up;;;

You had been dating your partner for a few months now and things were healthy. Everything was as it should be, though, you had a secret you couldn’t exactly tell them. Fear was holding you back - you did not know how they would act, whether they would use you or leave you.

HANZO

He was three drinks into the night when the act started.

At first, he didn’t care until the voice resonated within his ears. 

Looking up, his eyes adjusted to the spotlights shining down amongst the crowd before they dimmed and the main stage lit up. 

Their voice was something ethereal. Something that Hanzo recognised instantly. 

Despite the outfit they were wearing, behind all of that make-up, Hanzo recognised the person instantly. 

Shock was present on the archers face, but that was quickly overcome with astonishment.

He couldn’t believe it. His partner was the most popular singer in Hanamura. 

Hanzo couldn’t stop staring, watching the way they performed so effortlessly.

Their hips swaying in time with the song, lips wet and shining in the spotlight, voice angelic as the day he first hear them. 

His heart flutters, flush appearing on his cheeks and not from the alcohol he had already consumed. 

When his eyes met theirs, a smile forms on their face, a wink directed to the man seated within the booth. 

Hanzo could feel the heat rise in his body as he smiled back, tipping his glass towards his partner. 

There were several emotions running through him, from love to lust, Hanzo couldn’t quite wrap his head around why you kept it a secret. 

Nevermind though, he was already planning on making you sing for him privately.

GENJI

Genji had made plans that night with a few friends he had made during his playtime in Hanamura all those years ago. Some form of a “catch up over drinks” he called it. 

Sitting in a circular booth close to the stage, the ninja looks up at the presenter talking about the opening act, a name he recognizes but had no face to put it to. 

When you come out on stage in all that make-up and wearing an outfit that catches everyone's eyes, Genji can’t help but stare either.

It took him a moment between blinks for it to register that the person on stage was his partner he had been dating. 

His jaw practically drops, hand clasp tightly around his drink.

Eyes were blown wide, either from lust or from pure adoration at your singing ability. 

Genji felt his entire body flare up in heat, something so secretive only turned him on more. 

His friends that surrounded him made their remarks but he didn’t pay them no mind.

His entire focus was on you. 

Genji could only sit there and stare. 

The moment you lock eyes with him and give a playful wink accompanied with a smirk, the dragon inside stirs. 

Oh you don’t get to play this game.

The night was still young and the ninja had so many ideas in mind.

MOIRA

The Irishwoman would have rather been anywhere else tonight, but after a week of failed experiments, what other choice did she have?

The bar sat across from the stage was where she was situated, and her phone lay on the countertop in silence. 

You hadn’t even bothered to check in on her today which only fueled her rage more.

She needed time to herself, however. Perhaps the night will go in her favour of some peace. 

Just when she finished her second drink, the ice rattling in her glass, she turns to face the stage. 

The act had already started, singer atop the stage in sparkles and glitter. 

Moira felt something familiar but couldn’t quite place her fingers on it. 

Then there was that turn you did, one that the scientist recognised instantly. 

It was you singing your heart out. Not only that, but in such an establishment? She couldn’t quite believe it. 

No wonder you had been distant today, you were here preparing for this. 

He anger at you dies out instantly as she watches on, admiring the way your voice sounded along with the music. 

She knew you could sing but this was an entire new level. 

Moira clapped when the song was over, smile as wide as her face met yours to which you bashfully hid away.

Questions have answers and she was going to get them, one way or another.

LUCIO

It wasn’t his first time in the venue and it sure wasn’t going to be his last.

He always had a seat at the VIP table just in front of the main stage, and tonight you were suppose to join him.

When his calls went unanswered, a sinking feeling grew in his stomach. There were many faces already staring at him on his own.

He tried to drown his sorrows with a few drinks, hopelessly texting you, wondering where you are. 

Then the announcer calls out a famous singers name and Lucio can’t help but feel somewhat hurt that you’re leaving him like this. 

He stands to leave and when a voice starts singing, a perfect harmony that his ears twitch and listen to, he spins around. 

Immediately he recognises you, he knows the frequency of your voice, they perfect, sweet noises that come from your throat. 

It was you. 

You hadn’t stood the artist up, no, you were here with him. 

He takes his seat and watches you sway in time with the music. 

Eyes meet and he can’t help but grin. No wonder you were so secretive. 

When the song was finally over, you didn’t waste anytime in jumping from the stage and sitting beside Lucio. 

His hand holds yours as he compliments you, placing a kiss to your temple. 

He didn’t mind, it’ll be all over the papers tomorrow regardless.

RAMATTRA

What was an omnic like him doing in such a place like this?

The only time he had a need to being here was to strike deals that suited his arrangements. 

A questioning invite made him wander into the place, suit hugging his body as he unbuttoned the blazer to sit down. 

He crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair as he watched the stage, an opening act that did not pique his interest at all. 

When a familiar voice rang through several minutes later, his receptors picked up the frequencies, instantly looking up to the figure on stage. 

His optics adjusted to the light, a smirk coursing through his wires as he watches his partner, their hips moving to the rhythm. 

He couldn’t help but stare, system flaring up as he records the show for later.

When his partner finally stops singing, their vocals now a slow murmur against the next act, Ramattra watches them make their way to his booth. 

“You finally came through.” He spoke, matter of factly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I knew.” 

Of course he knew. He had everything about you saved within his systems. 

“Plus your secret wasn’t exactly secret with me.” He muses. 

ZENYATTA

The omnic had planned this little date with you months prior, an exquisite date fit for someone like you.

Little did he know, that the place you were currently seated in had regulars there that recognise you instantly. 

At first you passed them off, Zenyatta staying beside you throughout it all. 

He was confused until some older looking person came and pulled you away from your partner.

You laughed, brushing him off before eventually being pulled onto the stage, microphone in your hand. 

It all came naturally and the tilt of Zenyatta’s head made you smirk. 

Your voice hit his receptors just right and the monk could feel his wires warm up as he watches you perform for everyone else. 

When the show was over, applause ringing loud throughout the venue, you make your way back to him. 

“You put on quite a show.” He admits with a chuckle. 

His optics met your eyes, looking at how they glistened under the warm light. 

“How long have you kept this secret?” 

“Too long.”

Zenyatta brushed his thumb over your knuckles as he held your hand before bringing it up to his faceplate, planting a makeshift kiss against it. 

“Perhaps you could tell me more as the night goes on.”

JUNKERQUEEN

It was a normal night for the queen.

Junkertown bars held karaoke nights each weekend, the establishments packed with drunks and Aussies alike. 

Some nights, upon the queens request, does she have private shows before her on her throne. 

Several acts lay before her, the music was loud but when her eyes set upon an almost familiar figure, everything heightened. 

Their voice was angelic, something she recognised instantly as they sang their hearts out. 

Odessa thought hard about where she recognised their voice, it was just there…

The moment their eyes lock, it hit her, the one singer she had adored for years, the one partner she had loved for months. 

It was the same person. 

Her smile became something feral as she stood, practically marching her way over there.

Upon reaching her partner, hands laced together as her lips brushed against your ear. 

“Who knew you had such a voice.” 

She felt your cheeks flush against hers, a devilish smile caressing her face. 

Odessa now had several ideas whirling inside of her head.

“Your queen would enjoy a more… private ensemble.”

JUNKRAT

The Aussie was head over heels for you, that much was plainly obvious by the way he would talk about you and show you off. 

There was something about you though that rose suspicions.

The way you would sneak off and come back late at night. While he knew you weren’t screwing around, something unfamiliar settled in his stomach. 

One night, he followed you, the nighttime heat on the back of his neck. 

Upon entering a small, unmonitored establishment, Jamison could feel the hairs on his arms stand up. 

He peered around the back, eyes searching for you and when your voice echoed through the dimly lit room, tones changing quickly as you sang, did the junker find his heart fluttering. 

His partner, the love of his life, the one he trusted everything with… 

You were singing for others, but never for him. 

He wondered why, but when he realised that you were the most sought singer in the entirety of Junkertown, he understood. 

Time passed before you eventually came home, seeing Jamison sleeping on the bed. 

Lazily, he cuddled up with you, hand stroking your stomach as he mumbles out sleepily; 

“You have the voice of an angel.” 

ROADHOG

Nothing could’ve prepared him for such a relationship between him and you. 

Never had he thought someone would love him the way you do, so when you invited him out on a date several weeks into the relationship, he was almost startled. 

For once, the man dressed up nice, smart suit and tie and he made his way over to one of the more prestigious places in Junkertown. 

By almost begging the queen, you managed to get him in unharmed, guards escorting him into the building and standing around to keep a watchful eye on you. 

At first he was confused as to where you were, but when a familiar voice sang out, stage lit up beautifully despite half of the bulbs flickering, his ears perk up. 

He looked up, eyes widening as he witnessed his partner, the one singer he had on repeat for the last few months, was there on the stage. 

He couldn’t believe it at first, but the subtle smiles and winks you passed to him was all the confirmation he needed that it was indeed you. 

He was dating one of the well known and renowned singers in all of Junkertown. 

It makes his head spin, the excitement taking over as he can’t help but stand and applaud when the act is over. 

Mako grasps you firmly, pulling your body flush to his as he wipes the bead of sweat from your cheek. 

“You have kept this from me?” His voice was low, gruff as he watched you. 

“I had no choice.” 

He huffs, shaking his head. 

“You sound wonderful.” He admits. 

His hand squeezes your side. 

“I’d like to hear you again.”

[7ndipity]

Going on tour with Yoongi

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: headcanons and blurb about traveling with Yoongi

Warnings: little angst in the blurb, not proofread

A/N: I had two different requests come in regarding Yoongi's tour, so I decided to combine them, I hope that's okay. Thanks to the lovely anons who requested these, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He was honestly so happy and excited when you agreed to his suggestion of going with him.

(He didn't want to admit it, but the idea of being away from you for weeks at a time made him feel physically unwell.)

He loved being able to take you to so many places that he'd only been able to tell you about previously.

Obviously, he was usually super tired following a show, so you would typically have a lazy half day, sleeping til noon, before going out sightseeing.

Having you around helped give him a better sense of balance, and gave him something to focus on in the middle of the chaos of tour life.

You two had developed several little routines and habits, even if it was just sitting with you for a bit after he had his hair and makeup done, going over the same checklist that he does every night to make sure you have what you needed for the show.

• "You got everything? Where's your lanyard passes?" He asked, fiddling with a strand of your hair before tucking behind your ear.

"It's in my bag." You said.

"Go ahead and put it on, I don't want you getting getting caught without it or losing it."

"Yes mom-OW!" You teased, earning a pinch from him.

He knows he might be over doing it sometimes with how he fussed over you, but making sure you had everything you needed and were okay made him feel much more comfortable going up on stage.

As much as he worried over you though, you were no better when it came to him, always fussing at him to eat enough, get enough sleep and rest, etc.

You're still one of his biggest supporters tho, always wearing tour merch or something bts related to the shows, even if it's just to get a rise out of him (he laughed for nearly ten minutes when you showed up with a shooky headband)

It made him smile though, knowing that somewhere out in the sea of lights, even though he might not always be able to spot it, there was a particular army bomb with your names scribbled on it.

"Are you okay?" You asked quietly, as you lay in bed.

""I think so, it was just... a lot you know?" He mumbled.

You hummed in response, combing your fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower, as you looked down at him resting against you.

The makeup had been washed away, the stylized waves now resting limp against his face, even the slightly cocky air seemed to have been packed away like his clothes. He was back to Yoongi, not Suga or Agust d, your Yoongi.

The tour had come to a close. Somehow, four months had flicked by before either of you could really grasp it, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions. Pride, regret, gratitude, fear, joy. Tonight had been especially emotional with so many of his members there to cheer him on for the final show.

"You did really well." You whispered.

He didn't respond, only letting out a grunt as your fingers found a knot.

"Is there anything I can do?" You asked.

"You're already doing it." He sighed. "Just by being here."

You were both fell silent again, you would've thought he'd fallen asleep if it weren't for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers where they rested against your sides.

"Thank you," He said suddenly. "For coming with me. I don't know how I would've coped without you."

"You would've managed," You tried to say lightly-heartedly "You made it before without me."

"Yeah, but I don't want to." He said, squeezing you and making your heart tighten in response.

"You have me," You said softly. "Even when I can't be there in person, you've always got me."

So much uncertainty lay ahead, but all that could wait til tomorrow.

Right now, all you both wanted was hold on, keeping each other close as you felt his still slightly uneasy heart calm to a more steady pace against yours.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

got any silly voxval headcannons? (Maybe velvette too idk)

like for example who cooks out of the three of them

Of course you can <3 I'm a really angsty girlie so I don't know how silly they actually are but there you go:

None of them can cook, but that's not really a problem for Vox and Velvette. Vox could survive on plain bread and black coffee for eternity, while Velvette could eat only candies. Val, on the other hand, is the ultimate hedonist. He's all about the tasty, full-fat fast food or gourmet stuff, and he's always pushing for takeout. Come on, guys, we're fucking rich, let's order something. Sure, they could hire someone to cook for them, but Vox is too paranoid to let an outsider near their food. He's still on the hunt for a chef who can match Val's extravagant tastes and is willing to sign off soul. If they had to pick someone to cook, Vox would probably be the best bet since he's the only one who can actually follow a recipe.

Velvette is the smartest when it comes to managing finances. Vox technically doesn't like to waste money but he has a taste for luxurious stuff, he can't resist an expensive car, fucking show-off. Valentino basically burns money on every useless shit he likes, I bet those crystals he badazzled his gun with were real diamons.

Velvette helps Val maintain his fluff, and he styles her hair. It's a cute little trade-off they've got going on.

Valentino has a habit of breaking electronic devices and downloading malware. Vox hates him for it.

Vox can easily go 72h without sleep, fueled by coke and rage. Valentino occasionally drugs his coffee to put him down to sleep, because after 68th hour all electronics in the tower starts malfunctioning.

Val used to be a full-time performer, but now he's more like a RuPaul—lending his face to the brand and only occasionally gracing the stage. But every time he does perform, Vox makes sure to be there front and center.

Their schedules are very incompatible and they have to spend a lot of time managing their businesses but they have weekly appointments to do catch up and discuss strategy. Those are usually very unserious, they end up hitting the bong and playing Mario Cart.

There was this one time Vox tried hitting on Velvette because she's totally his type. It was awkward as hell, and they both agreed to never speak of it again. Valentino has no idea about it.

Valentino would really want to have a dog but Vox really likes dogs so he doesn't allow him to get one by imposing strict anti-pet policy in the tower.

Val knows all of Vox's and Velvette's kinks and sometimes produces custom porn for them as gifts.

As much as they love spending time together, Val and Velvette can't stand watching TV with Vox because he gets overly emotional and doesn't allow to skip commercials because he enjoys them

Vox occasionally invites Val to be a guest judge on reality shows, which always skyrockets ratings but sometimes ends nasty for the contestants.

Val's obsessed with textures, especially nice fabrics. Give him a nice fluffy blanket and he will shut up for 15 minutes fixated on touching it.

Vox, with his business and strategic management degree, sometimes tries to pitch these ideas to Velvette and Valentino, he's like Guys, have you considered using the BCG matrix? Ever heard of SWOT analysis? We should discuss KPIs. They mock him relentlessly for it.

Val once tried putting drag makeup on Vox's face, and let's just say the result was... less than glamorous.

During their honeymoon phase, Vox and Val fucked everywhere. At first, Velvette found it amusing, but eventually, she grew to hate it. She finally snapped when she found out they'd fucked on the dinner table and she set it on fire.

Val "secretly" ghostwrote some trashy smut novels (they are absolutely horrible, worst Wattpad shit you could dig out). Vox secretly bought and read every single one, finding plenty of references to himself along the way.

Vox loves it when Val wears stripper platforms, even though it makes their height difference even more ridiculous.

Valentino's wardrobe takes two entire rooms and still expands. Vox doesn't know how to stop it.

Vox owns a few lingerie sets, only because Val loses his fucking mind whenever he wears them. Velvette designed them herself and keeps photos of Vox wearing them as blackmail material, just in case.

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Reader and Miguel deciding to go spend some time together without the kids so they asked the crew to watch Gabby and baby Benji, but only to return home to see the house a complete wreck (resending becuz I don't think Tumblr sent it the last time)

For some reason Tumblr have been eating asks, notifications??? Anyways ~

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just no, mi amor. I'll tell Peter."

"Miguel, we can't always rely on Peter to take care of our kids! That's... just invasive and kinds pushy. Plus I'm sure he has enough as it is with Mayday in her teething stage."

He groaned and took your hands.

"Mi amor. You know I love you, right?" You deadpanned, "But trusting a bunch of teenagers to take care of our children..."

"Give them a chance. You're always encouraging Gabi to do things on her own, what's the difference in a group of older kids? Besides Hobie seems the one that has a much more developed sense of responsibility, Gabi adores them! Benji loves Miles!"

"Still, no."

"Miguel!" He tensed and closed his eyes at your tone.

"It's been months since we had a date, the reservation is done, if anything happens Hobie has our phone. I'm gonna get ready, and so will you. Got it?"

"Okay, okay. No hay que alterarnos. Los llamaré, de acuerdo?" (Let's calm down. I'll call them, ok?)

"Good boy." You smooched his cheek and went to shower. He sighed as his ears felt warm

-----

"Don't worry Mrs. O'Hara, Benji will be safe with us. Miles brought some drawings for Gabriela to paint with him." Gwen spoke as Hobie held Benjamin, the toddler too enraptured in the different shiny textured bracelets on Hobie's wrist.

"Bye Solecito , You'll call me or Miguel if anything, alright? Benjamin's formula is in the counter, no sugar past 7 for Gabi, make sure she is asleep by 9."

"Gotcha." Gwen nodded

"Go on, mate. Missus awaits." You kissed Gabi and Benjamin on the forehead. You heard the ma ma from Benjamin.

"We'll be back soon." You went to the car. Miguel watched the three of them.

"Don't screw this up." Hobie just sniffed with a nod.

"Aye, aye. Go on."

Miguel soon joined you and sighed

"I have a bad feeling of this"

"I think Imma start calling you Miguel Angustias." (Worrywart Miguel).

He chuckled and took your hand in his, to then kiss it. You went for the date. Not that Miguel didn't trust them, he knew they were not ready for such things.

He was already savoring the 'I told you' he had in store for you later.

------

So far the only call you both had was from Miles to ask if Gabi had a soccer game as well so he would help her get her stuff ready.

But when you got home, you couldn't help but be both surprised and horrified Hobie held Benjamin on his chest, a bit of puke on his shirt, Gwen was curled next to Hobie, sandwiched between a doodle faces Miles, all craned up in the seatless couch, the removable seats piled up under some blankets. They had tried to build not one but two forts.

Stepping in further, you covered your mouth at the kitchen. Bowls piled up with gooey batter, the counter and the stand mixer coated in a dusty layer of flour, some dishes, scattered around the breakfast island, Pavitr asleep in one of the forts. When he had gotten in you had no idea.

Miguel just stared at you with a deadpan.

"I told you so." He shrugged casually and slammed the door loud enough to make em awake after you had taken Benjamin from Hobie's chest and put him to sleep after wiping his mouth and face.

The youngest jolted awake as Hobie just stirred awake. Miguel removed his feet from the coffee table. Gabi was asleep in the floor, in the opposite fort as Pavitr. Gwen's face was smeared in glittery makeup.

"You had one job." Miles rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Uh... Tío, tu casa está embrujada." (Man, your house is hunted)

"Lo embrujada no le va a quitar lo sucia. A limpiar." (The haunted won't clean it up. Move it.)

"What did you say?" Gwen giggled at Miles chewed spanish.

"I told him that his house is hunted."

"Oh, definitely. Like... the bulbs were all poltergeist and then the porch's bulb just exploded."

"Told Pavitr to not tell scary stories, he didn't listen."

Miguel just sighed, ignoring them as he picked up Gabi. You approached

"I'm sorry for the mess, Mrs. O'Hara we just got too carried away. Benjamin loves Hobie's guitar though."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Gwen's face. She smiled sheepishly.

"Gabi wanted to do some makeup."

"It's alright, Thanks for taking care of them. Was Benjamin fussy?"

"At all, Hobie's great with kids. Pavitr as well. We had to call Margo to give us some advice on kids show."

"You should've asked me!" You chuckled, "I have some makeup remover wipes in the bathroom."

"Thanks. We'll clean up, promise."

------

They all left after leaving the house pristine. Miguel made sure of it.

"Go on, say it."

"I told you so." You pulled him closer and hooked a leg on his waist. It was your turn to be the big spoon.

"But they did it though. Mess aside. They helped Gabi out with her stuff, Benji was quite easy tonight, just were a bit messier and we finally had our date."

He nodded tiredly with drooping eyes.

To his dismay, you might call them again.