#STOP. WATCHING. TIKTOK. ON THE TRAIN. WITH NO HEADPHONES.

[remitiras]

[image id: comment by @/peachykas: Listen. For all of y'all saying "I don't have headphones" or "they're too expensive" then you need to wait until you're home. You're occupying a space that is not your own, and if you can't keep yourself from blaring the same 15 seconds of the same Dua Lipa song or whatever the fuck is the Sound of the Week until you get home, you have a problem. A problem you're making everyone else tolerate. Read a book. Scroll through Twitter. Stare out the window. /.End id]

i'm literally begging people to relearn how to use earbuds and headphones. i don't wanna hear your fucking tiktok while im waiting for my flight.

[lucyandalexiafan]

blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything. 

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms. 

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed. 

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl" 

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body. 

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want. 

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin. 

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me" 

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut" 

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact. 

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

[mimez-meme]

Aizawa headcanons!🖤💤 (sorry if any mistakes, erasermic?)

Not bothered by temperature. Wears baggy clothes even in hot weather unless he literally cannot stand it.

Has like little notes in his office of things eri likes so he always has some kind of idea of what gifts to get her

He purposely coughs whenever someone is smoking near him.

Whenever someone tells a really unfunny joke he either does a fake little laugh and then just a blank face after and stare at them for a bit, or he just stares at them with a blank face.

Downloaded tiktok to monitor his students but he secretly watches those ai cat vids/cat vids in general, sometimes shows them to eri

Once showed up to class with a bunch of plasters because eri kept saying he had ‘boo boos’

Type of dude to have the same dinner for days

He has loads of photos of random shit. Like a bunch of accidental photos.

Got the yellow sleeping bag thing because it reminded him of hizashi

As a kid he was neglected and his parents just wasn’t rlly the best but when he was like 14-15 his grandparents got custody over him and they started to look after him

10% Korean, 25% German

Owns some present mic merch

Aromantic and gay. Only had/has feelings for hizashi.

Says the most offensive shit then just says “no offence tho.”

When he’s in a meeting or whatever if he finds it boring he would yawn really loudly but then just act like nothing happened. But if someone points it out he’d be like “don’t blame it on me. Blame it on my instincts.” But if he doesn’t do that he will look really bored, like you tell by his face.

Doesn’t like fizzy drinks or like any sweet drinks. Doesn’t like any cold food either like ice cream.. ice lollies ect.

Sometimes when he can’t sleep he’ll listen to present mics radio show. Though he’ll never admit that.

He genuinely thought his students didn’t like him until the war started and they protected him the best he could, he even cried a bit over it.

He hugs a pillow to sleep sometimes, it oddly brings him comfort. In his sleeping bag he has a mini cat plushie.

If he sees himself in a kid in any way he will make sure they get help or he will help them. He hates seeing himself in a kid and he most definitely doesn’t want a kid to feel to same as he did as a kid.

Opened his own cat shelter not to far from his house, he goes there after work a lot and helps around.

Whenever there’s a sunset he takes pictures as he likes to think it’s oboro making the sky pretty for him and others.

Even now he views himself as weak. He ‘knows’ he can’t save everyone but what purpose does he serve if he can’t save everybody? And as hizashi couldn’t do much as kids when he was overworking himself, whenever he catches him overworking now he always stops him but aizawa gets mad

He loves omelets, has omelets every day for breakfast. He believes breakfast is the only meal you really need, but ofc hizashi is trying to help him eat more

He likes reading and getting lost in it. Imagining himself in that world. Its another way he escapes reality

Always has the news on/listening to it somehow, at home he has the tv running, at work, radio or headphones ect (he only doesn’t listen when he knows he shouldn’t or can’t, like in meetings, when he’s teaching ect)

As a kid for Halloween he would just lurk in the complete darkness with his quick activated so people just seeing glowing red eyes people would get terrified.. he was known around his neighbourhood for doing so. He also use to do that to scare his friends.

He has injured his back and has back problems from always overworking himself (training wise) and because of his bad posture and whenever someone points out his bad posture and the fact it’s not ganna help with his back problems he just says “it’s more comfy”

Like I hc hizashi to, he has some of nemuri’s paintings in his house

Nemuri always sent aizawa cat pictures everyday (canon?) and he got use to it, after her death he still checks his phone everyday expecting a cat picture but he never gets one.. it makes him feel a bit empty inside. He looks through those pictures whenever he can and sent back a cat picture and a message saying “thank you, for everything.”

After a long hard day of work, normally on Fridays he likes to have a long chilling bath, he does the usual stuff then just relaxes.. it calms him down and he thinks about life, he thinks about oboro sometimes and he just lets himself cry if he needs to. This is something that has genuinely helped him because it’s helping him becoming one with his feelings and letting himself feel and think. (Sometimes even falls asleep)

After his grandparents death he inherited the house but he couldn’t live there for too long because the memories hurt too much, even tho they’re good memories. But when he moved he took some stuff he held dearly with him and he has them in a little box in his closet now unless it’s some kind of furniture

Kirishima reminds him of oboro. Once he accidentally called him oboro and he hated himself for that, Kirishima lowkey gets some special treatment from aizawa as-well because of the fact

Only owns two pairs of pjs

Microwave- takeout typa guy. He can’t cook, basic stuff he can but it’s not the best

he’s tried a lot of weird shit with coffee, once he heard about tea and biscuits he tried it with coffee and weirdly liked it (I haven’t tried it myself but I’m guessing it’s not that nice but🤷🏻‍♀️) and then he tried over stuff and.. blah blah blah.

If Eri does his hair he willl keep it that way for as long as he can, he doesn’t care if he looks ridiculous

whenever he’s at the beach he would just relax on a sun bed or burry himself in the sand

Gets into bar fights, tries not to but he does.. 😭

hates swimming, he was forced to learn at a young age has a bit of trauma from that

after Oboros death he developed ED (an eating disorder)

He’s still in touch with Oboros parents and sometimes goes to see them, sometimes with hizashi as-well. Oboro also has a younger sister who looks like Eri in a way and so that also encourages Aizawa to look after Eri the best he can

Makes alot of dark jokes without realising

If he doesn’t like you and you ask for a cup of coffee or whatever, he’d make it for you but purposefully spill it all over you or make it really disgusting.

He makes sure to wash his face every night and every morning

has a COLLECTION of mugs, he buys every ‘cool’ one or just every basic one. He doesn’t care.

He’s ticklish on his sides, no one except nemuri and hizashi know that

He has two tattoos since hizashi kept calling him a pussy. Hizashi however doesn’t know what tattoos he got (he got a cloud on his ankle to represent oboro but unfortunately that tattoo was on the leg he cut off and he was actually upset about that. The other tattoo he got when drunk, it’s a fucked up rose below his neck on his back?..idk how else to describe the place)

He hides things in his scarf and as a kid and he was guilty of stealing things and hiding them in his scarf (idk when he got his scarf but shut up)

His scarf was inspired by a scarf his grandad always use to wear

After the time skip he adopted eri

Has a cat lamp in his room

He hated his smile, it was one of his insecurities but after a while and when he found happiness his smile became one of the most beautiful things about him. He didn’t really know how to smile to begin with which is why he was insecure, but yeah.. now he isn’t as insecure.

Mrs joke once played ‘emo boy’ outside his house on a boombox. To this day he has no idea how she knows where he lived and he even got extra locks

On Father’s Day he got cards from most of his students and he was so confused as to why but some of them made him smile (he secretly kept them)

Mic taught him how to do up his hair.

He hates big loud dogs.

He has dreams about saving oboro and how life could of been like if he lived or if he (aizawa) died instead of oboro, once woke up crying

He loves physical touch and the simplest of touch can calm him down or bring him comfort but he isn’t really use to it. his favourite type of physical touch is probably holding hands. But ‘no one’ knows

When he saw hizashi angry for the first time (s5-s7) he was genuinely scared of him and worried on what he might do but he didn’t show it and just let him express but seeing him like that also made him realise some of his mistakes as a friend and he sometimes thinks about it all, it made him question mic a lot and himself.

He had a pat cat but it died, however he still keeps his bed, toys and blanket. He figured he should leave having pets for a while because he would be too busy, but after the time skip he got 2 cats

He knows almost nothing about hizashi’s past before UA, he doesn’t think much about it but it does concern him 

Most of the time he genuinely thinks the world would be better if he didn’t exist as if he didn’t exist some people would still be alive. (Like oboro) but after the time skip he finally stopped thinking that way as he began noticing his worth.

He does feel guilty after being too hard on the kids, as sometimes they remind them of him. He tries to not push them too hard but enough.

[musashi]

I am happy that normies are using public transportation but oh my fucking God learn the etiquette before you ride the fucking train. I have never heard this many loud conversations in my life I should not be hearing you through my headphones!!!!! Stop watching tiktoks on full blast and taking phone calls!!!!!!!! You are so annoying!!!!!

[killersfool]

You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip. 

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7.  Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs. 

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat.  I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams,  the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression.  The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions. 

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift. 

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother. 

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did." 

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?" 

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head. 

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting. 

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us. 

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself. 

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous. 

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise." 

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.  

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere. 

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words. 

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen. 

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment. 

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do. 

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought. 

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away. 

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply. 

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me. 

-

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor. 

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people. 

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away. 

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then." 

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table.  His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled. 

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits. 

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it. 

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say. 

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling. 

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh. 

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye. 

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips. 

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer. 

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back. 

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress. 

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom. 

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes. 

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

[xoxiu]

first love of late spring - ot7 x reader

chapter one masterlist

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summary: falling, falling, falling- that's what you shouldn't be doing as a young intern at hybe. falling in love with your supervisor is frowned upon, especially all seven of them. you'll never learn, will you? guess you’ll just have to be their dark secret.

tags/warnings: intern!reader, poly relationships, stockholm syndrome, age regression, spanking, drug use, sugar daddy au, dubcon, body dysmorphia

Daylight slowly faded through the office window near your tiny cubicle. It had been your first day of work, and you couldn't believe how fast it flew by. Your computer clock only confirmed this- 18:57- long past your coworkers' traditional end of the workday. But not you, you quite liked the peacefulness of the office after hours. 

As HYBE's newest social media intern, you mainly took on the jobs that your managers didn't want to do- check emails, keep track of social media growth, the works. Today was spent giving you the social media passwords to Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, and Weverse and training you on what to do. Of course, this was taught to you by a much older man- the head of the social media department. While you knew exactly how to operate online accounts and what a Tweet was, you allowed the head manager his time in the spotlight by making him think he was teaching you the hidden knowledge of the internet. 

You check Jandi, the office management system, to ensure you've done everything assigned to you today. Yes, you've logged into the platforms, filtered through comments and replies, and watched the mandatory entry videos for the company. All you needed now was to...

Call Park Jimin of BTS to remind him of his scheduled livestream on Weverse at 19:00. Shit. 

Panicking, you quickly picked up your black office landline and dialed the phone number in the computer's contact list. The phone rang for what felt like the whole three minutes leading up to the scheduled time. In reality, the idol picked up after only three rings. 

"Ah, Hello?" The smooth and silky voice said on the line. You wet your lips as nerves quickly sank in- you've never been good at phone calls. 

"Is this Park Jimin? I'm with the social media department for HYBE."

"Yes, it is. Is there a problem tonight?" 

"No, sir. This is just a reminder to be in the studio for 19:00. You have a livestream planned with managers Seo and Kang assisting you."

"Oh, yes! I'm currently in the studio waiting for the top of the hour. Thank you, manager-nim!"

Before you could correct him on your proper title, the line had gone quiet. You let out the breath you had been holding for what felt like ages before putting the phone back on the receiver. With your final task for the day done, you marked it complete before logging in your total hours for the day- eight. 

You stood up and started packing your backpack. Your phone charger, tablet, novels, and miscellaneous paperwork were packed up, and you placed your headphones on your ears before exiting the office. 

The BigHit social media office was on the tenth floor of the HYBE building, right in the middle of the office block. Thankfully, the elevators in the building are much more reliable and fast than the ones on your university campus. You managed to catch an empty one and pressed the button for the ground floor. 

Engrossed in your phone, you didn't even look up when the elevator stopped until you heard the ping, indicating that the elevator had indeed stopped. You checked what floor you were at- floor five- before looking straight ahead to see who was entering the lift. A tall man with a black cap, white face mask, and tan sweatshirt entered the elevator. Moving to the back left corner away from the control panel, you made a quick bow. 

"Hello."

The man walked into the opposite corner, also going down to the ground floor with you. He looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

"Oh, good afternoon," he said. He glanced at his phone before looking back at you. "I don't recognize you. Are you new?"

"Yes, sir. I'm y/n, the new social media intern for BigHit. It's a pleasure to work alongside you."

You could see his eyes slant slightly, showing that he was smiling behind the mask. He gave you a short bow before reaching his hand out toward you. 

"I'm Kim Namjoon. I'm sure you'll make our socials the best they can be."

Your heart skipped a beat; You had a member of the company's- no, the world's biggest idol group right in front of you, wanting to shake your hand. Timidly, you placed your hand in his, shyly shaking his hand. Namjoon chuckled, sensing your nerves. 

"No need to be shy. You'll do great. Can I walk you out?" He asked as the doors to the elevator opened, revealing the empty lobby. You gave him a smile and a small nod as you both exited the lift. 

"So when was your first day?" Namjoon asked. 

"It was today- I mainly did training and menial tasks." Namjoon gave a disgusted noise at your response. 

"That doesn't sound fun at all. Surely your work will get more fun as time goes on."

"Yes, sir. I'm sure it will. I will do my best to make you and everyone else look good online."

Namjoon gave a loud laugh at your response, further putting you at ease. He opened the side door to the parking deck for you, indicating for you to go first. 

"That's a hard job, y/n-ssi; Our career depends on it." 

Namjoon meant his words as a joke, but you couldn't help but have your smile falter as you gulped in fear. In reality, BTS and the rest of BigHit's public image depended on the competency you had at your job. In the back of your mind, you knew it wasn't solely your job, you had a whole team you worked for, but the thoughts wouldn't stop isolating you and solely making you the problem. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you barely comprehended Namjoon saying his goodbyes and walking towards his vehicle. 

Quickly, you snapped out of it, realizing that staring at the older man as he walked to his car looked a bit stalker-ish. You walked out of the parking lot and began your trek to your apartment. 

You were a recent college graduate, having had your commencement ceremony this past spring. You majored in Social Media Marketing with a minor in English and had quite the resume and portfolio following graduation. Over the summer you applied to job after job, but rarely received a callback or an interview. Smaller businesses and organizations passed on you, but you were shocked when you received an employment offer from HYBE after your second round of interviews. 

In typical internship fashion, it was an unpaid gig. They did, however, offer to pay for housing and gave you a monthly allotment of money for food. While you much rather preferred a paycheck, the stipends for housing and food allowed you to at least live in Seoul. It did not, however, pay to allow you to take a bus home. So, you had to walk the thirty-minute walk home every day. 

Entering your studio apartment, you sat your backpack down on the tiny countertop of your kitchen and slipped off your shoes. Your apartment was small and cheap for Gangnam, being only ₩300,000 a month for 20 square meters of space. This meant your kitchen barely had room for a table for one, your bedroom and living room were the same small room, and your bathroom held only enough extra space solely so you could stand in one place. It wasn't much, but living in Gangnam felt better than the farmland you had grown up in. 

Growing up in a small village outside of Gwangju didn't provide you with much of anything in life. If anything, your childhood consisted mainly of bullying and body issues. You were much larger than most of the other kids growing up, and even now you still leaned on the thicker side. Many strangers would stare at you with your larger behind, thighs, and bust with disgust on their faces- you weren't the beauty standard in Korea. However, while attending Chonnam University in Gwangju, you befriended a group of foreign students from America that would constantly hype up your appearance, telling you that any man in America would die to have a girlfriend with a body like yours. 

But you didn't live in America. You lived in Korea. 

Eventually, your American friends would graduate and move back stateside, leaving you to receive glares and offensive remarks with no backup. By this time, though, the confidence your friends provided you with was stuck in your head. Their words of 'you're just short, you don't weigh that much', 'your tits are killer', and 'I'd smack that ass' never left your conscience. To this day you don't know whether to laugh at the memories or appreciate them endearingly. You just decided to do them both. 

With water boiling on the stove for your instant noodles, you lay on your sleeper sofa and stared aimlessly at the chipped paint of your ceiling. Maybe someday you'll get rich and famous like Namjoon and Jimin and live in a luxury apartment, not a basement studio apartment for less than a week's worth of minimum wage.

[itsevanffsbutspam]

where's that fucking post where it goes 'tiktok is the worst thing that happened to our society, we failed when we stopped wearing headphones' or something. i am in the SILENT compartment of the train. 'SILENCE' in big letters on the windows, in dutch and in english. you are expected to be silent from the moment you sit down. a lady with her kids is talking and watching tiktok videos out loud. why the hell do i even seek these spaces out if they're just going to be treated like anywhere else

[namira]

Idk what it is about me because I am a very small and unintimidating person but when people are being rude on the train and I look at them briefly they get really sheepish and apologetic and stop immediately. It's not even like I'm intentionally glaring at them or anything I just sort of automatically look over if someone's watching tiktok with no headphones

[a-dotrivenitupontop]

my mum is watching tiktoks without headphones on the train stop it we’re in publicccc 😭

[beggars-opera]

Also, cognitively speaking, some things are just easier to tune out than others. We're constantly filtering the thousands of sounds we're hearing, especially in a crowded environment. If, for example, two people are having a conversation across from you on a train, and they're speaking at a reasonable volume, your brain will say, "these two people are having a conversation about X" and will usually stop paying attention automatically unless you think they're talking about something interesting. But if it's a person who's talking on a phone, your brain has a hard time tuning it out because the dialogue is sporadic and disjointed, and usually louder than normal. Your brain struggles to figure out what it's listening to and filling in the blanks, and therefore has a hard time ignoring it. I imagine our brains react to tiktok the same way - you're watching a video with context, but everyone around you is hearing random spurts of tinny, contextless word salad that become a misphonic nightmare.

I'd imagine even the people who think blasting music or whatever in public is ok have been in a situation where someone was being loud and obnoxious and they couldn't leave for whatever reason. Do you really want to be that person? Part of growing up is realizing that not every rule is meaningless. We all live in a society and are trying to be tolerable to everyone around us. Besides, we used to have to share wired headphones when we wanted to listen to music with someone else and it sucked; now you can share airpods without even thinking about it and you CHOOSE NOT TO?

my unpopular opinion is that i hate tiktok because now people just publicly watch loud ass videos in public spaces with no regard for anyone else. 100% it was not this bad with youtube, it’s such a different thing with tiktok. put on headphones. you are grown.

[joshuasearing]

Tuesday 20th August 2024

Hey journal so I started my day of yesterday by relaxing a little bit then I did a bit of a tiktok live and was shone loads of love and support which was nice. Then after this I ended up going gym and doing a good leg session and working really hard on my legs. Then after this I went to a nearby shop and got some milk for the family as I have been using it all recently for my protein shakes. Then after this once I got home I relaxed for al tote bit then in a couple hours I met up with a mate for a few hours. He’s name is Daniel and he is a brother to me. We have been mates since we were really young children and we are still close mates. So we met up played some games or pool. I won one game and he won 3 so I lost all together. On one of the games I got get unlucky and potted the black and the way it was potted was some bullshit. Anyways after playing some pool we sat down and spoke for a bit and had a couple drinks. Then we just spoke about some things. Then we also did an arm wrestle and I won somehow. Then after this we went to Maccies and got some food. Then after this we went to the my and I drove us there. In the gym we trained loads of different things. We did work hard in occasions but for the most part was messing about. We were in the gym for a couple of hours I believe. When in the gym he was doing the his monkey bar things and there was this box beneath him and he fell on the box and the way he feel was so funny it looked some clumsy I could not stop laughing. Then also I lost my phone for ages in the gym I just could not find it for about 20 minutes was panicking so bad it was awful. But I could still hear my music through my headphones so I knew it was still in close proximity. Anyways we found it on the white pillar things I would never leave my home on something like that that’s why I lost it. But I must on done it on this one occasion. I usually just place it on the floor. Luckily It was not stolen. Then after the gym me and my mate Daniel when for a little drive whilst we waited for he’s dad to pick him up. I know I drive and I probably can drop him off home but he idea of driving a longer distance with a mate in the car made me feel really anxious. Also it would be on roads I never really drive on and roads I’ve never drove on as well so it made me feel really nervy. I got him to explain to he’s dad so I didn’t just look like a careless dickhead because that is not the case.

Anyways after this once I got home I watched some football with my dad and Tottenham free to Leicester which is not the best but atleast we did not lose. Then I made some videos on my phone. Also btw Leicester scored as soon as I walked in I was the unlucky charm we weee originally winning 1-0. Then after this I went to bed. Now for this morning I was suppose to meet up with Daniel to go gym again as he and a day pass that lasts 24 hours and we wanted to make the most of it. However buses kept on cancelling on helps which is not great. Anyways so we ended up not going together. So this morning I made myself some scrambled eggs and also porridge. Then I watched some YouTube for a bit. Then my mum came in a room with a litter for me, I opened it and it was a parking ticket for parking at my gym. It was issued on the 14th of this month I must of forgot to register my car licence in when I got into the gym which is annoying. Anyways after getting this I decided to get to the gym as soon as possible as I wanted to get this sorted out. Anyways I am still at the gym I have trained nicely and forearms and had a really good session and now I have been on the treadmill for almost 20 minutes now whilst writing on here the whole time. Anyways one of the workers came over to me when on the treadmill about my phone going missing yesterday and joking so find with me. Then I decided to tell him about my ticket and I have him the letter and he said they will get it cancelled for me by email the company that give out the tickets. Anyways this has been my past couple days so far. I have also posted a good few videos on tiktok so hopefully they do well. Anyways speak to you later, bye journal!

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! do you know that tiktok trend where the girl asks her bf if he can temporarily break up with her so she can be heartbroken when she listens to olivia rodrigo’s new album and the bf always says no? could you do that but with peter and avenger!reader? i don’t really know how the avengers play into that but i trust you to think of something great. love your work babes <3

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey fren, tysm <3 i do know that trend, and it always warms my darn heart. you probably meant for this to be a headcanon but halfway through i realised that i was writing full sentences, so i just rolled with it bc i have no self-control lol enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to break up with me.”

Not a moment later, you heard a series of loud crashes and Peter stumbled out of the bathroom, hopping on one leg while fiddling with his zipper. “What did you just say?” His eyes were wild as they scanned your face.

“I need you to break up with me,” you repeated calmly, not taking your eyes off your laptop.

“Break up with you?” Peter echoed, hand raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? Do you want to break up?”

This made you look up. Peter was staring at you like you had just insulted his face, making it quite an effort to stay serious. “It’s just for 34 minutes and 46 seconds,” you assured. “So I can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s new album.”

He blinked at you.

“What?”

“Please?” You set your laptop aside, shuffling to the end of the bed so you were sitting right in front of him. “I want to listen to it in full effect with a broken heart and everything.”

“I…” Peter slowly shook his head. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Um, no. Thank you.” He turned and made to return to the bathroom.

“Peter,” you whined and grabbed for his hand, pulling him to a halt.

“Sorry, angel.” He shrugged, supressing the faint tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Nope.”

You pouted. “We can break up when you train with Bucky! In that way you won’t even notice because you’ll be busy and distracted. I won’t even be on your mind.” You weren’t sure what you had said that made Peter stare at you like you were insane, but it took him a second to snap out of it.

He cupped your face with his hands and made sure to meet your eyes. “Babe, I think about you all the time.” He said it like it was a wish he wanted to word correctly. Slow and precise. Then he switched to a lighter tone that implied that he was done with the conversation. “I’m not breaking up with you.” With that he turned and left for the bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back although the water was already running and you doubted that Peter could hear you. And if he did, he probably didn’t care. You took that as your cue to leave. Defeated, you plucked your headphones into your phone and picked out a song of Olivia’s album at random.

Steve was lounging on the couch of the common room when you entered. He looked up from his magazine and gave you a small smile by way of greeting. You returned it by tapping two fingers at your temple in salute, ignoring the way how his stare lingered a little longer. You sat down next to him. When you locked eyes again, you saw the silent question on his face and let out a laugh. It ended up sounding more like a delightful scoff.

“I know Tony takes pride in being the philanthropist amongst us, but for someone who grew up in the ice age, you’re really good at reading people’s faces.” You wanted to annoy Steve, maybe even coax out a laugh, but he just kept looking at you, and you held his gaze. You were good at it—an aftereffect of living with Bucky who happened to love the same yoghurt as you did. Sometimes you put all western movies to shame with the way you narrowed your eyes at each other early in the morning in front of the fridge.

To your luck, Steve was just as stubborn, which meant that you two could’ve kept it going until death if it weren’t for the door banging open.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” A voice boomed. You took a wild guess and assumed it was Clint.

“Tell me about it!” Another voice bellowed right back.

A second later, Sam and Clint marched into the room, furious, whereas Bucky strolled in behind them with no care in the world.

The former two were holding bags of food. Both were animated and waving their arms through the air while arguing. You turned down the volume of your phone in time to hear Steve demand, “What’s going on?”

Clint and Sam stared daggers at Bucky until Steve amended, “Buck, what did you do?”

The man in question turned around, facing his best friend in exasperation. “I asked these two to get food for me.” This earned him a snarl. Bucky waved them off and examined his metal arm, unconcerned. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’re getting so worked up about it.”

“We—” Sam gestured wildly between Clint and himself. “—were asked to pick up food for him from two different places. And neither of us knew about it!”

“Yes, neither of us knew,” Clint chimed in, eyes narrowing at Bucky who was busy flicking dust off his arm. “And I don’t know about you, Sam, but I was touched. I was moved, okay? Because Bucky never asks for anything and here I was, thinking we’re starting to bond or whatever but now I just feel USED.”

Sam gave a harsh sound in agreement.

“Bucky,” said Steve after no one had anything to add. “What do you have to say to that?”

Your gaze flitted between them, not sure what to expect. Bucky didn’t give any sign of wanting to respond, making you wonder if he had heard Cap at all. But then a slow smile swept over his lips and you noted that it was probably the most feline smile you’d ever seen. It was a smile storybook villains wore after burning down the world.

“The only thing I have to say is that I regret not having the moment they ran into each other in the elevator on video tape, because that—” He turned and looked Sam and Clint straight in the eye. “—was amazing.”

No one spoke.

“Ruthless,” you said under your breath and just like marionettes, the four men glanced you before another argument broke.

You took the chance to turn the volume back up. “happier” was playing and you settled further into the couch to watch the scene unfold. Sam was arguing so passionately that the vein on his neck was making an impressive appearance. Clint, on the other hand, had a palm pressed flat to his chest; his face showing pure betrayal. Bucky didn’t seem to care for the chaos. He tried multiple times to grab for the bags only for one of them to move out of his reach. When you glanced at Steve, you nearly lost it.

He was staring at them like his lifespan had just been reduced to ten years. He looked like he wanted to throw pebbles after them.

Nudging him with your arm, you silently handed him one of your earphones. He glanced at you and hesitated, probably thinking of the many times you had offered him a taste of blaring electronic music. You rolled your eyes and insisted again. This time, Steve took it and you watched in amusement as his brows rose in surprise.

“I like the piano,” he mouthed and glimpsed at the name of the song. You grinned.

In the meantime, Clint and Sam had decided to form an alliance. They had planted themselves in the opposite couch, digging into the contents of the brown bags while Bucky gawked at them from the other side of the room with his mouth ajar and heart ripped out of his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let himself fall into the armchair facing them. He looked devastated. You weren’t sure if you had to stifle a laugh or tears.

Next to you, Steve chocked back a laugh. You quirked an eyebrow and considered him only to realise the reason behind his glee. Bucky was brooding in his seat while Sam and Clint did an excellence job on commenting every bite. Nothing has ever received as much praise as that pasta, and you were certain that if this were a cartoon, there would be rain clouds hovering above Bucky’s head. As if the angels had set it up themselves, you took notice of the lyrics.

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

Bucky was pouting, poking the leather of his armchair with his finger while stealing glances at Sam and Clint. It was perfect. Steve slapped a hand on his chest and he tipped his head back, laughing.

I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

You were both laughing hysterically. The others had stopped their on-going war to stare at the two of you; their expressions baffled. The song came to an end and Steve gave back your earphone, rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear. He rose and walked over to Bucky, hurling him to his feet and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said with a note of laughter in his voice. “There’s a song I need to show you.” You smiled as you watched them leave.

“Well, this was fun.” You pushed yourself off the couch and shook your head as Sam offered you some of his sushi. “Thanks, but I’m on a mission to get heartbroken.”

Leaving the men to their food, you wandered the halls and listened to “traitor” as you walked past Wanda’s room. Her door was open and you could see that Vision was in the middle of a chess game with Bruce and Wanda. By the looks of it, Vision was as good as winning and you reined the urge to cheer for him. You peaked around the door frame and saw that Vision had their king in check. Deep betrayal crossed Wanda’s face.

You chuckled quietly and whispered, “FRIDAY, play what I’m listening to right now through the speakers in Wanda’s room.” FRIDAY didn’t bother to respond but not a second later, the lyrics were blasting through her room and their heads snapped up in confusion.

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

“Wanda?“ You heard Vision’s careful voice. “What is going on?”

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still

You're still a traitor

“I’m not sure, but these lyrics aren’t wrong…You are a traitor.” Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, slowly bobbing her head to the music. Treason danced in her eyes. It was the beginning of a villain origin story.

“Maybe it’s a sign of God,” Bruce said and you almost burst out laughing.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

“Hell yeah!” Wanda yelled and this time you bolted down the hallway, wheezing. You dashed right into Tony’s lab and slammed the door.

“What are you on?” He looked up in amusement. You simply shook your head, laughter still bubbling over your lips.

“Just spreading love in this facility.” You waved your hand at nothing in particular and Tony nodded.

“Right, I heard you asked Peter to break up with you to listen to that one album? Very dramatic. I like it.”

“See.” You gestured at him, indicating that he was the only one who got it. “It’s a good album. Maybe you should ask Pepper to divorce you.”

Tony gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she would come back if I asked her.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled and this time Tony’s laughed for real.

“So what? You’ve just been walking around waiting for heartbreak?” He turned back to whatever he was working on. You stepped closer to get a peek.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“I’m powered by exhaustion” You handed him the wrench he needed. “Want a listen? I think there’s a song you might like.”

He contemplated the offer and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.” You couldn’t help but squeal. You knew that Tony probably didn’t care but sharing your music was always exciting.

Beaming, you removed your headphones and connected your phone to the speakers of Tony’s lab. The first tunes of “good 4 u” started playing and Tony tapped his foot to the beat, head bobbing just slightly. When the chorus hit, he stood up and you stepped back, thinking he wanted to headbang. Instead, he reached for a tool that was further away. You didn’t miss the way he moved his shoulders in a little dance move though.

“I like this one,” he said, and you flashed him a smile. You continued working on the suit, handing Tony things you knew he needed until you passed him a plier and he froze. You furrowed your brows, glanced at the tool you knew was the right one, and cocked your head in silent question.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Looking you straight in the eyes, he flung the plier over his shoulder, opened a drawer, and took out another plier to use on his suit. You gasped.

“How dare you,” you whispered in shock. Tony had the nerve to shrug.

“Enjoy your little heartbreak moment, Y/N.” He shooed you away like a cat. “FRIDAY, yank up the volume, would you.”

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me

“Guys?” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the booming music. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching in amusement as you and Tony towered on the lab tables, using screwdrivers as provisional microphones. While Tony played a terrific air guitar, you sank dramatically to your knees and impressed the crowd with your air drumming skills.

“Guys?” Peter tried again, chuckling. This time you and Tony whipped around at the same time and pointed straight at Peter.

Like a damn sociopath

You threw your arms up in the air and spun in circles while Tony jumped into quite an impressive split leap.

I've lost my mind

I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

Just over the fact that I really don't get it

But I guess good for you

The song came to an end, and you leapt on Tony’s table to share a screwdriver with him as you sang the last lyrics together.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

The song ended and all you could hear was heavy breathing. Peter began to clap. “This was great, you guys. Wow.”

You exchanged glances with Tony before making a show of bowing at the waist.

“So this is what happens when I refuse to break up with you?” Peter strolled over to where you sat on the lab table, positioning himself between your legs. Tony chuckled and jumped off to grab a water bottle from across the room.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that,” you said, just for the devil of it.

Peter smiled. “Cap and Bucky are crying over a song, Vision is sending Wanda flowers in ten-minute intervals, and you are down here having a rock concert with Tony.”

You gave him a toothy grin. “I was just feeling sour.”

* * *

stay hydrated pals

[thespongebobsquarepantsmovie]

kids now more than ever need to be told to just be themselves and also to stop watching tiktoks on the train with no headphones

[valentine-vuong]

“You have a car?” Valentine raises an eyebrow. “Do you go out of town that often or are you just a masochist?"

Valentine jumps into the train car, surprisingly quiet for the time of night. There’s another couple up toward the front end of the car, but the man’s sleeping and the woman’s watching TikToks with headphones in.

“Or is that not a question I can ask on a first date?” they tease.

They don’t sit down, despite the many empty seats, choosing instead to just hang onto a pole near the door with a single hand. The place must only be a couple of stops away.

Valentine comes a-knocking again, now in a blue button-up and slacks, with a clip-on bowtie, more for the meme value than for the fanciness factor. Their hair's combed a bit nicer than the last time you saw them.

They're nervous.

Not that it'll go wrong, but that it'll go too right. That this Wade will end up being perfect for the Atelier. That they'll fall for him and have to turn him in to their bosses anyway, to be enslaved, killed, or worse.

But, hey, cute date night, right?

(@valentine-vuong)

Wade was feeling a similar bout of anxiety as he awaited his date to arrive. He’d spent the last thirty or so minutes in front of his mirror, trying on different shirts until he settled for the least gaudy looking button up he could find out of the bunch. It was a relatively loud top, one that you’d think would be more fitting for a Hawaiian tropical vacation than to a dinner date, but hey, give him props because he was trying. He paired it with a simple pair of blue jeans and the least beat up pair of shoes he owned. He figured it was a good enough balance; not too desperate, but also not too lazy. He didn’t want to come across as overly ambitious, even if he was practically vibrating in anticipation.

There wasn’t much he could do about his face situation. He could attempt to apply some makeup, but really, that would only be for his benefit. Valentine knew what he looked like. Maybe he could spare the people that would be around them from being subjected to his ugly mug while trying to eat? He remembers Logan saying something along those lines the first time he’d met them. Whatever. The contemplation ends with him deciding against it, instead grabbing one of his laughably bad wigs yet still trying to style it to look at least somewhat presentable. “Dear god I look like Melissa McCarthy—“

The knock at the door signifies that he doesn’t have time to switch out his shitty hairpiece. Maybe this is a good thing. It can show just how tolerable Valentine will be to his… not so physically attractive features.

Wade opens the door, his eyes scanning over the other for a brief second before he smirks. “Nice bowtie. Where’d you get it? Party city?”

[therarityoflife]

This City

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!reader

Summary: Spencer never expected to find love in a subway busker, and you never expected a song about him to be the thing that kickstarted your career.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: I really hope you like this because it’s super fluffy and I think it might be my favourite thing I’ve ever written. It was originally going to be a three part series but in the end I just made it one big one shot so I hope you enjoy it.

It was a day like any other. A regular Tuesday morning. Spencer walked quickly, head down, through the tube station. He was running late. Everything seemed to be going wrong for him that morning. The water in his flat just wouldn’t warm up, he couldn't find his keys when he was meant to leave, his local coffee shop was swamped with people by the time he got there. Everything was adding up and now he was going to be late.

He never really listened to the buskers that would play in the station as he walked by. He never knew the songs they were playing and he had more important places to be. Occasionally he would have to push his way through a crowd who had formed around one of them. He’d roll his eyes but curiously listen to the voice who had captured so many ears. So as he walked, head down, he couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of your voice.

“I’ve been seeing lonely people in crowded rooms.” You sang. He practically stopped in his tracks. People swerved around him tutting and rolling their eyes at the commotion he’d caused. He planted himself against a wall to listen to the prettiest voice he’d ever heard. Spencer continued to listen to the song he never heard before utterly mesmerised. Your presence was incredible, people couldn’t help but watch you perform as they walked past. You caught the attention of everyone. A group of school kids whooped as you belted out the bridge of the song causing you to giggle slightly. People dropped coins and dollar bills into your guitar case as they passed and you flashed each one a bright smile. The song faded out as you played the last few chords.

“Thank you so much. My name’s Y/N and that was This City.” You smiled looking over at Spencer who was still watching. He pulled two dollars out of his wallet and placed it in your case.

“Thank you so much. I saw you watching.” You grinned at the pretty boy in front of you.

“You have a wonderful voice.” He smiled. Spencer glanced at his watch and grimaced slightly before walking off. You watched as the tall boy, all cheekbones and brown eyes, walked off down to the platform.

Spencer sat down on the train and pulled his phone out of his satchel. As much as he hated the internet he needed to find this song. He contemplated just asking Garcia, but she would do one of two things. She’d either try playing matchmaker, finding out everything she could about you, or she’d tell Morgan who would tease him relentlessly for his crush. He pulled google up and typed in the name of the song. ‘This City by Sam Fischer’ was the first result that popped up. He plugged his headphones in and pressed play on the song. Thankfully it was the right one. Spencer didn’t think the artist was as good as you, but the song itself was good. He almost missed his stop at Quantico as he read through article after article about the artist and how the song had gone viral on an app called TikTok.

You continued on with your set after Spencer left. You couldn’t get him out of your head though. You found yourself thinking about him throughout the day. You wondered who he was, where he was going, what he did. You usually didn’t notice the people passing you by, but for some reason he stuck out to you.

“You’re late.” Hotch scowled as Spencer jogged into the bullpen.

“Sorry.” He mumbled taking his seat at his desk. No new case came in that day so Spencer could let his mind wander back to you as he pleased. The way you seemed to feel every word of the song you played. They way you smiled at the people looking your way.

“Hey pretty boy.” Derek pulled Spencer from his daydream. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Oh nothing. Sorry, off in a world of my own.” Spencer blushed.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Derek chuckled.

From that day on Spencer would set off thirty minutes early with a five dollar bill in his wallet. You were there every morning, with your guitar and that voice that Spencer loved. It was becoming a routine. Every morning at 8am you would scan across the crowd of people looking for the tall boy with the cheekbones, and everyday he would arrive. He’d stand across the platform from you and watch your set for fifteen minutes. It kept you on your toes. Every morning you’d come down with three new songs for him. You didn’t know that once he boarded that train he would look up every one of them and add them to his phone.

The entire team had noticed the shift in Spencer’s mood. He seemed lighter. He’d come into the bullpen glowing with a grin on his face.

“You look happy this morning.” JJ commented.

“I am happy.” He’d said matter of factly.

“Good. I’m glad.” JJ chuckled, raising an eyebrow to Morgan who just shrugged. “What’s got him in such a good mood?”

“Haven’t got a clue.” Morgan shook his head.

“Aren’t you going to find out?”

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

After a week of the routine you decided to be brave. That morning as you packed your things you wrote your number down on a piece of paper, tucking it into your guitar case ready to give him when he arrived. Except this time he didn’t arrive. You weren’t aware that Spencer had left for a case, all you knew was that subway boy wasn’t there and you didn’t realise you’d miss him this much, your unspoken routine broken. You watched the crowd waiting for him to stop, but he didn't. There was no tall boy with cheekbones that morning, or for the next three mornings after that. He had seemingly vanished into thin air.

You had almost given up waiting for him when just like that he was back. Just like that, as though he had never gone, there he was leaning against the wall watching you perform.

“I missed you down here.” You called across the swarm of people between songs.

“I was travelling for work.” He smiled cutting across to you.

“You know I think you’re single handedly paying my rent.” You giggled as he placed the five dollar bill in your guitar case.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He blushed. Just when you thought this boy couldn’t get any cuter, it almost made you swoon. You almost forgot the piece of paper tucked away in the pocket of your guitar case as he stood up straight.

“Here.” You caught his attention again. “Instead of just giving me your money tomorrow, why don’t you take me out for coffee?” You passed him your number.

“Oh! Yeah, I’d really like that.” He stammered. “It’s a date- I mean, not a date. Unless you want it to be a date that is.”

“It’s a date.” You smiled softly.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

“Wait!” You called after him. “Normally I know the names of the people I’m going on dates with.” You giggled.

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Then I look forward to our date Spencer Reid.”

Unfortunately a case came in that morning meaning the team were jetting off to Huston for god knows how long.

‘Hi. It’s Spencer. From the train station. You said you wanted to get coffee tomorrow but I’m going to have to postpone. I’m really sorry. I’m down in Huston for work at the minute. Can we rearrange when I get back?’ He rattled off a text to you as he and Hotch drove to the ME’s office. He shoved his phone in his satchel as Hotch pulled into the car park.

‘No problem, don’t worry about it. Although now I am intrigued. Pray tell what job could you possibly have that includes you jetting off across the country on such short notice?’ The text was waiting for him once he got back in the car. He couldn’t help but smile. Your light, cheeky tone came across even through text.

‘I work for the FBI. Me and my team consult on serial murder cases.’

‘Woah! Seriously? I’ll leave you to it then. Go save some lives Superman.’ Spencer chuckled at the message before tucking his phone back into his bag. Hotch gave him a subtle side eye, but didn’t want to intrude.

The team stayed in Huston until the end of the week. Spencer had sent you a text that morning to tell you that he was on his way back. Your stomach jumped as your phone pinged.

‘Still up for that coffee tomorrow then?’ You replied, biting your thumb trying to stop the grin spreading across your face.

‘Can’t wait.’

You and Spencer had been texting through the week while he was in Huston. He couldn’t tell you much about the case but you told him about the songs you were learning and some demo you were playing about with. He was intrigued by it all, asking you questions about your writing process and what instruments you played. He explained the history of the modern song structure on the phone one evening and you couldn’t stop smiling for thirty minutes after you ended the call. You couldn’t believe how insanely smart he was and how he knew so much about everything. It left you awestruck, and if he didn’t already have you under his thumb he definitely did now.

It was Saturday, the day you and Spencer had agreed to meet up. He paced round his apartment psyching himself up to meet you. He had tried on just about every shirt in his closet trying to find the right thing to wear. He chewed on his nail nervously until his phone pinged. Spencer had let you pick the place you went for coffee so you sent him the address. He took a deep breath and picked up his bag and keys before leaving his apartment. The coffee shop was nice, not too big but also not too small that it felt cramped. It was a little way out from Spencer so he had to catch the subway over. He assumed this must be the area in which you lived.

“Hey.” You smiled from a booth as he walked in. He sat opposite you looking down at the small plate sat in front of you. “I haven’t eaten yet. I hope you don’t mind, I already got something.”

“No. Not at all. It looks great, what is it?”

“Coffee cake. I know not exactly breakfast but I have a major sweet tooth and the cake in here is to die for.” You chuckled. “You want to try a bit?” You held up the fork.

“Sure.” He smiled, cutting himself a small bite. “That is good.”

“I told you so.”

You ended up sitting in that coffee shop for two hours discussing anything and everything. Once it got closer to lunch, and the shop started getting busier the pair of you decided to head off somewhere else.

“There’s an art gallery not too far from here, or there’s a park if you just want to keep walking.” You reeled off as you tried to find things to do so you didn’t have to say goodbye.

“The gallery sounds nice.” Spencer smiled. “It looks like it might rain.” He pointed up at the ominous black cloud lingering in the sky.

“Good shout.” You smiled. You were walking side by side, your hands brushing against each other every so often. You felt like you were back in high school going on your first date, back when a date had no underlying motive. There was no expectation to go back to either one of your apartments. It was sweet. Refreshing even.

Spencer made the move to link your fingers once you entered the gallery. He told himself it was the logical thing to do. You had to maneuver your way through a crowd and you didn’t want to lose each other, but once you were out the other side his hand stayed intertwined with yours. You couldn’t help but watch the way he spoke about each painting you walked past. It’s history, the artist, anything he knew. You stared up at him smiling.

“Sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“No. Not at all. I really like it actually.”

“Like what?”

“The way you talk. You know so much about so much and it's incredible to watch.”

“People don’t normally let me talk that much.” He admitted.

“Well then that’s a shame for them.”

The day was coming to an end and neither one of you wanted to leave. Spencer walked you back to your apartment door as the sun set behind the buildings.

“I really enjoyed today.” Spencer admitted as you stood on the porch to your building.

“I had a really good time as well.” You smiled. “I’d really like to see you again.”

“I’d like that too. Look, my job is pretty high demand so I can’t promise anything, but I would really like to see you again.”

“That’s okay. I get it. You’re off being a superhero. Just let me know when you’re in town and I’ll let you take me on a second date.” You stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to Spencer’s cheek. “Goodnight Spencer.”

You had been seeing Spencer for four months when you wrote your first song about him. You didn’t get to see him as often as you would have liked but the connection was undeniable. In that time you had been busking regularly. You’d grown a small following online and had begun playing small shows at bars and small venues. Spencer was so proud of you. He came to your first show, and every show he was in town for. You’d shown him every one of your demos. All except this one. You wanted this one to be a surprise, to play it for him when you first debuted it. Except it was proving to be harder than you thought. The last five shows you’d played he was meant to be there, and each of those shows he’d ended up away on a case. You couldn’t hate him for it if you tried, but it was slightly discouraging having to remove the song from the set list so many times.

At the same time you were playing shows you were growing a following on TikTok. It was the best place to get yourself out there and the plan was working. You uploaded covers, and originals, as well as story times and silly videos. You were likeable so it wasn’t surprising that a few of your videos had blown up. Your newest one was no exception. It was a stupid video poking fun at the fact that you still hadn’t been able to play Spencer his song in which you referred to him as ‘subway boy’. You didn’t expect however for the video to go viral. You woke up the morning after uploading the video to find it had over 750 thousand views. Your comments were blowing up with ‘subway boy reveal’, and ‘release the song!’ Your following had doubled overnight, you couldn’t believe it.

You were playing a gig at a small venue up in D.C. Spencer had promised he’d be there, and this time he kept his promise. The two of you rode up on the train in the evening, your guitar laid across your lap.

“You nervous?” Spencer asked, his hand in yours. He noticed the way your leg was bouncing up and down.

“Yeah, I’m really nervous.” You laughed breathily. Spencer had no idea you were performing his song for him. In a way you didn’t know until that afternoon either. Part of you was waiting for him to be called away on another case and it wasn’t until he walked through your apartment door that evening that it hit you he was really going to be there.

“You’ll be great. You always are.” He squeezed your hand.

“I’m putting a new song on the set list tonight.” You spoke shyly.

“Oh yeah? Have I heard it?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then I’m excited to hear it.”

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N and I’ll be playing a short set tonight. I want to start this set off with a new song actually. See I’ve been trying to perform this song for the past month, but every time I try to perform it the person it’s for has to bail at the last minute. But he’s here tonight so this is Subway.” You began playing the song for Spencer. He stood to the side away from the crowd but you could see him beaming as you sang. The song came to an end and you stole a glance in his direction before continuing on with the set.

“You never said you wrote a song about me.” Spencer said awestruck as you walked out of the venue.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to show you until it was ready. Then you kept getting called out on cases so I couldn’t show you.”

“It was incredible. In fact I think it’s my favourite song of yours.” Spencer smiled, dipping down to kiss you.

Spencer was practically grinning as he got into work the next day. The team still had no idea he was seeing you. He wasn’t intentionally keeping it a secret, they just hadn’t asked, and if he was being honest he liked having something just for himself. He knew as soon as they found out they would be all over you like a rash. Penelope would probably do a full background check, they would all demand to meet you, and Derek would definitely try to embarrass him in front of you. No, for now you were his secret.

“What’s got you in such a chipper mood this morning?” Derek asked as Spencer sat down at his desk. Spencer began rambling about something scientific to get Derek off his back. “Okay, okay Einstein. I get it.” Derek chuckled.

“Guys, we have a case.” Hotch said from the briefing room.

Spencer left for his next case the morning after you debuted Subway.

‘A new case has come in. Down in Miami. Not sure yet when I’ll be back’ He’d texted you around lunchtime.

‘Enjoy the sun. See you when you get home.’ You’d responded. It was one of his favourite things about you. The way you took his job in your stride. He’d heard all the horror stories, relationships and marriages ending because of the iron grip the BAU had. Hotch and Rossi were the poster children for it; but you never seemed to mind. You never had an issue with him being away for so long and you never pried about the cases. You just made sure you were always there with your wonderful smile and a hug when needed.

The TikTok video you’d uploaded a few days ago was still blowing up with people asking for the song. You decided to film a video of you performing it. You weren’t expecting too much from it but it didn’t hurt to monetise on the hype you were currently receiving. You were currently working on an EP so any hype you could generate before it came out would be good for sales. You uploaded the video and turned your phone off. You were in the studio that afternoon recording the last set of vocals for your EP.

In the weeks following your song had gone viral. The initial video emmassed over four million views and the song ended up as a trending sound on TikTok. You couldn’t believe it.

“The videos on four point four million views I think.” You said on the phone to Spencer. “My TikTok now has almost a million followers and my Instagram has over half a million followers. I’ve had record companies reaching out to me talking about signing contracts with them. Oh, and I’ve got a meeting with Atlantic records tomorrow morning. How crazy is that?”

“That’s insane. I’m so proud of you.” Spencer said. You could practically hear him smiling down the phone. “Are you going to do it? Sign a contact with them I mean.”

“I think so. I’ve had a few skype meetings with some record labels while you’ve been on this case and Atlantic seems to be the company that aligns best with what I want to do. Sony reached out but I’ve heard enough horror stories about them to ever sign with them.” You laugh. “Atlantic seems good though. We had an initial meeting yesterday and I told them about the EP I’m planning on releasing. They said they’d be happy to release it under them.”

“I see you’ve been very busy since I left then.” Spencer chuckled. “I leave for ten days and you become a famous musician.”

The next few months were a whirlwind of release dates, interviews, signings, and even an upcoming tour down the east coast. Everyone was obsessed with the mystery of ‘subway boy’. You and Spencer decided to play into it. Spencer wasn’t big on social media, or the internet in general, so he was happy to stay anonymous. A rogue hand, or a photo credit enough to keep the mystery going. Spencer couldn’t help but find it amusing. Penelope had found out about you when your song blew up, even going so far as to mention how obsessed with you she was and that she was going to figure out who ‘subway boy’ was if it killed her. It took everything in Spencer not to burst out laughing then and there. What had begun as Spencer just wanting something for himself had now turned into a game. Would they figure it out? How long would it take them to realise that the mystery boy who had enthralled the country was actually their best friend?

You’d been with Spencer for a year when you set off on your first tour. It was a small ten show tour down the east coast, and a show in LA. Your team wanted to trial run a few shows to see if a longer tour would be worthwhile. It proved to be a roaring success with all the shows selling out.

“Once you put out your first album you’ll be able to do a nationwide tour.” Your manager had said over the skype call. You were sitting in Spencer’s living room, your laptop perched on the coffee table. “We can’t guarantee it will be a headline tour just yet, but a lot of our bigger artists have expressed an interest in having you as their supporting act. Ed Sheeran is going on tour next year and he’s expressed interest in your music.” Spencer came into the room, two cups of coffee in his hands. He handed you one.

“Thanks darling.” You smiled up at him as he continued through to his study. “I mean both options sound great. I think I’d prefer touring as a supporting act first to be honest. It’s not as much pressure and it means I can get a feel for the larger audiences.”

“I’m guessing that was ‘subway boy’.” Your manager smirked.

“Yeah, that was Spencer.”

“Ah, so he does have a name. Yeah we can definitely discuss it with the label and the rest of the team, as I said a few artists have expressed interest so it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone willing to take you on as their support act. Speaking of ‘subway boy’ though, are you ever going to reveal who he is? There’s a lot of hype around the mystery of it at the minute but I wouldn’t want that to die out.”

“I’m not sure. I’d have to speak to him about it. He’s not on social media and I don’t know if he wants his face plastered across the internet.”

“I see. What is it he does, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s a criminal profiler with the FBI.”

“I can hear you talking about me.” Spencer shouted from his study.

“Only the bad things, I swear.” You laughed as he came to stand in the doorway and shake his head at you.

“And is he okay with the idea of you travelling so much, because a nationwide tour would last a good couple of months and we’ve not even thought about international tours yet.�� Your manager pulled your focus back to the meeting.

“Oh, yeah he’s fine with it. He’s always jetting off around the country for cases anyway. I never know if he’s here or not.” You chuckled.

“In that case that’s all we have to talk about today, I’ll relay this back to the rest of the team.” With that your manager hung up the call and Spencer came to sit beside you.

“You probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone. You’re never here anyway.” You smirked at Spencer.

“We might start catching each other in different states.” He laughed.

“I’ll have to start leaving your name on the door every night in case you turn up.”

It was the first night of your tour. You were in Boston and Spencer was on a case up in Idaho. It was a small venue with a capacity of only a thousand people.

“This next song you might know. I released this song six months ago and it blew up on TikTok. Before I released it I was busking in train stations in D.C. Coincidentally that is where I met the person this song is about.” You paused and the crowd erupted with cheers of,

“Subway boy!”

“Yeah. That’s where I met ‘subway boy’. Actually we just celebrated our one year anniversary a few weeks ago and I was thinking. Of all the songs that could have changed my life, I'm glad it was the song about the boy who changed my life. He’s a bit of a hermit when it comes to social media, but I’m glad I get to share him with the world in at least one way. And since he’s not here tonight ‘subway boy’ I love you. This is Subway sing along if you know it.

“Hey you. How’s the case going?” You spoke down the phone after you came off stage later that evening.

“It looks like we’re going to be here for the next few days. Sorry I couldn’t come to your show tonight.” He sounded upset.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re coming to see me in D.C, you don’t have to be at every show.”

“Yeah, but it was your first one. I wanted to be there.”

“You will. Are you still coming to the D.C show?”

“Yeah. You couldn’t stop me if you tried. Oh, Penelope and JJ are coming as well. They’ve made sure we’ve got the evening off so I’ll definitely be there.”

“Ooh, scary. Your work friends are coming to my show. Do I need to hide you away in the VIP box?” You giggled.

“No, Penelope got us tickets months ago. Her and JJ are obsessed with you, they think they’re dragging me along to introduce me to good music.”

“I’m glad they think so highly of my music. What are your tickets like? I can get them upgraded if you like.”

“Please, it's Penelope. She’s probably gotten better tickets than you could ever give us.” Spencer laughed.

“I look forward to meeting her one day.”

“Would you?” Spencer asked.

“Hmm?”

“Would you want to meet them?”

“Yeah. When you’re ready to introduce me to them I’d love to. They’re your family, and you talk so highly of them. I’d love to meet them.”

“I think I’d like to introduce you to them soon.”

“Okay. Well whenever you want to let me know and I’m there. As long as it's after this tour.”

“We’ll make a plan. Hey look I have to get off, it must be getting pretty late over there. Go get some sleep sweetheart, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay. You make sure you’re getting some sleep as well. I love you.” You smiled.

“I love you too. Goodnight.” Spencer said before hanging up the call.

Spencer wasn’t aware that his hiding spot in the local police precinct wasn’t so hidden, and that Morgan had overheard him talking to you.

“Spencer Reid, do you have a secret girlfriend you’ve neglected to tell us about?” He asked as Spencer came back into the board room where the team was set up.

“What? No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer said defensively. It was an obvious lie and everyone could see it.

“I’d really like to introduce you to them. Go get some sleep sweetheart. I love you too, goodnight. Pretty boy you’re not talking to your mom like that so the only other person it could be is a girlfriend.”

“Okay fine I might have a girlfriend. Can we drop it now?”

“How long have you been seeing her. It sounds pretty serious if you’ve told her you love her.” Emily piped up.

“We’ve been together for one year, three weeks and four days.”

“Spence! You’ve had a girlfriend for a year and never told us?” JJ gasped.

“Yeah. You always like to jump on everything I do and I wanted something just for myself for a while.”

“A year’s a long time though Reid.” Emily said, shocked.

“You’ll meet her soon. We’re going to find a time that’s good for both of us. She’s travelling at the minute.”

The day had finally arrived for your show in D.C. You were really nervous. You’d played in New York to five thousand people a few days ago, but that was child’s play compared to this. Tonight you were playing to Spencer’s friends. Sure they didn’t know who you were but you knew who they were and it was terrifying.

‘We’ve just arrived. You’re going to be incredible. Good luck, I’m so proud of you. I’ll see you after the show.’ Spencer had text you while you sat in the green room with your band.

“So is ‘subway boy’ going to be here tonight?” Your drummer Tim asked.

“Yeah, he’s just arrived.”

“Are we going to finally meet him tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s coming backstage after the show. His name’s on the door.” The stage manager gave you and your band the five minute warning and you all headed to the side of the stage ready to begin. You all gave each other hugs and the lights went down. Your band went out first getting settled with their instruments and playing the intro to your first song. You took one last deep breath as you ran onto stage.

“Good evening D.C!” You smiled. You scanned across the crowd spotting Spencer immediately. He was front row with two women you assumed were JJ and Garcia.

“This next song I think you might know. If you’ve been following me for a while you’ll know that this is a very special song to me. Of course it’s the song that gave me all this, the song that changed my life forever, but it’s also a song about a very special person in my life.”

“Subway boy!” Everyone screamed. It had become a routine by now. You quickly made eye contact with Spencer before scanning across the crowd and smiling.

“Yeah. Subway boy. Now this boy came into my life some time ago, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. So to my beautiful Subway boy, I love you. This one’s for you. This is Subway, sing along if you know it.” Your band played the intro to the song and it took everything in you to not look directly at Spencer through the song. His friends were profilers so you knew you could only look at him so many times before they began to clock on. You played the rest of the set glancing down at your boyfriend every so often. JJ and Garcia were singing along to every song. You couldn’t wait to meet them properly, they both seemed lovely.

“Thank you so much, I’ve been Y/N and I hope you’ve had a great night.” You shouted before running off stage.

“Spence! We’re stopping at the merch table, do you want anything?” JJ shouted over the hum of people. Spencer almost laughed. There was already a whole bunch of your merch sitting in his apartment. Things you’d given him, sample designs, upcoming ideas.

“No thanks. I’m fine. Hey, if you two are okay together I think I’m going to try and get out of here. This crowd is stressing me out and I just want to get home.”

“Yeah we’re fine. Will’s coming to pick us up. You sure you don’t want a lift?”

“No, it’s fine honestly.” Spencer smiled and they both nodded letting him go. Spencer weaved his way through the crowd to the door you’d told him to go to. “Hi. My name’s Spencer Reid. It should be on the list.” He smiled at the security guard on the door. He raised an eyebrow and read down the list.

“Yep. Right this way Mr Reid.” The man said.

“It’s Dr actually.” Spencer mumbled but followed the security guard regardless. He was shown down to the green room where you were waiting for him.

“Spencer!” You grinned, bolting up from the couch.

“Hey! You were incredible!” He beamed pulling you into a hug.

“I saw you in the front row.”

“I told you Pen got good seats.” Spencer chuckled.

“So you’re the famous ‘subway boy’?” Tim smiled from the couch.

“Spencer, this is my band. Tim, Hannah, and Liam. Guys, this is Spencer.”

Two weeks after your show in D.C you were back home from the tour. You crashed out on the couch almost as soon as you walked through Spencer’s door. You’d intended to watch a film but you were asleep before the opening credits even began. By the time you woke up the film had ended and it was dark outside. You were laid on Spencer’s chest and he was playing with your hair.

“I missed the film.” You pouted sitting up.

“It’s okay we can watch it again another time.” He chuckled.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Sweetheart, it's fine. I know how tired I get after a case, I can only imagine how exhausted you must be after performing for a month.”

“I know but I wanted to see you, and all I’ve done is sleep.”

“You’ve got all weekend to see me. Hotch has promised no cases until Monday. I think it might have something to do with me mentioning you were coming back today; but don’t worry. You have me for at least the next forty eight hours.”

“So your team finally knows about me then?”

“They know you exist. I wanted to wait until you met them to do the bulk of the explaining. Plus I kinda want to see their reactions when I walk in with superstar Y/N on my arm.” He grinned. You slapped his arm playfully.

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” You laughed.

“Oh come on. Let me have this one thing. I want to see the look on Penelope’s face when she realizes I’m the person she’s been trying to find for months.”

“You’re a menace.” You shook your head while laughing.

Monday lunchtime came around and the team still hadn’t been called away on a case. You and Spencer had decided that if no new case came in on Monday that Spencer would bring you to meet the team. Now it was lunchtime and there was no new case. You were super nervous. You knew how highly the team thought of Spencer and how protective they were over him. You were terrified that you wouldn’t meet their expectations. You were wearing one of your nicest outfits as you stood in the lobby of the FBI building waiting to be let in. You saw Spencer get out of the lift and wave at you.

“Hey. You look great. Are you ready?” He asked, hugging you.

“Yeah. Nervous, but ready.”

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you. In fact JJ and Penelope already love you so you’ve already won over your hardest critics.”

“That’s reassuring.” You chuckled nervously.

“Hi. Could I get a visitor's pass?” Spencer asked the lady at the front desk.

“Your guest needs to fill out the sign in sheet first.” You filled in the form, giving your details to the lady at the front desk and she handed you a visitors pass. You followed Spencer over to the lift and got in beside him as he pressed floor six. You tried to keep your breathing steady as the number on the lift slowly rose. The doors opened and there you were. The BAU. Spencer had told you so much about it and now here you were.

“Wait here a second. I’m going to go get everyone.” You simply nodded at him as he kissed your forehead and headed through the glass doors.

“Where is everyone?” Spencer asked Derek as he entered the bullpen.

“Hotch and Rossi are in Hotch’s office, and JJ went to the bathroom I think. Why what’s up kid?”

“Could you go get them, and Garcia too. I have someone I want you guys to meet.” Both Derek and Emily perked up at this.

“You’ve finally brought your girlfriend to meet us?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, she’s waiting in the hallway, but I want everyone to be here to meet her.”

“What’s this?” JJ asked, walking in.

“Pretty boy’s girlfriends here. He wants us to meet her.”

“Yes, so go get Garcia, Hotch, and Rossi please.” Spencer chuckled before leaving to go get you.

“Everyone’s waiting. Are you ready?” He said to you as he came back through the glass doors.

“Playing a show to thousands of people, easy. Performing on national tv, piece of cake. This? This is nerve wrecking.” You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in Spencer’s arms.

“They’re going to love you. Come on.” Spencer took your hand and led you through the doors into the bullpen.

“Oh my god!” Was the first thing you heard as you walked in. “You're Y/N!” Garcia gasped.

“Garcia this is Y/N. Y/N this is Penelope Garcia.”

“Hi. I remember you from the D.C show. I love your outfit. And you must be JJ, I remember you too. I heard so much about all of you.”

“Spencer Reid you might have told us you had a girlfriend but you neglected to tell us the most important part in that your girlfriend is super famous pop star Y/N.” Garcia continued to freak out.

“Did I? Huh, must have slipped my mind.” He smirked and you slapped his shoulder lightly.

“No. No! I am mad at you mister. I have been trying to decode the mystery of ‘subway boy’ for months. Months! And it was you all this time?”

“It’s really nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Emily.” Emily laughed as Penelope continued to grill Spencer.

“Spencer’s told me so much about you. It’s great to finally meet you. Sorry I couldn’t earlier.”

“Well I think it can slide considering you were on tour.”

“No I don’t care, because you absolutely should have told me. Frankly I am very offended that you didn’t think I could keep it a secret.” Garcia continued to rant at Spencer.

“He’s not getting out of that one any time soon is he?” You asked.

“Oh no definitely not. I’m Derek by the way.”

“I just want to say that I am a huge fan; and if you decide Reid over here isn’t good enough for you I just want to let you know that I’m free-“ Penelope said turning to you

“Penelope! Quit flirting with my girlfriend!” Spencer shouted.

“No. I won’t, and you can’t stop me. You want to know why? Because I hate you right now! I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

“I've said I’m sorry okay? What more do you want from me?” That’s when you knew, as you all stood laughing at your boyfriend being grilled by his best friend that they had accepted you into their group. Hotch let the team have the rest of the day off and you all sat in the office going back and forth sharing stories and you couldn’t for the life of you remember what you had been so nervous about a few hours earlier.

[eijiphoria]

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 "𝐓𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒" 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

𝕴𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖊𝖘: KOZUME Kenma, OIKAWA Tooru, SUNA Rintaro, SAKUSA Kiyoomi

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: implied smut?? I have no idea-

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: PART 2 HOES (Part 1) not me wishing for oikawa's rn

˚✩ 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐨𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞 | pretty gamer kenma was sitting in his room, live-streaming while his millions of followers onlooked from the other side of the screen. you were watching too, just from the other room before an evil smirk spread across your lips. you remembered you ordered some new leggings in the mail and you hadn't had the chance to wear them. so you got up from the bed and shimmied your way into them. you went back to see a text on your phone from kenma. 'could you bring me some water babe?' you walked to the kitchen and filled up a glass, walking over to his room and opened the door quietly. he didn't tear away from his screen when you placed the glass down next to him, leaving a small peck on his cheek, you turned around and began walking to the door. but not before you heard kenma, "kitten?" you turned around to see a pink hue settle on his cheeks, "yes?" "you can stay... and maybe sit on my lap... please..."

˚✩ 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 | oikawa trudged through the door, the new training schedule his team trainer put together was exhausting. he placed his stuff down on the ground softly, thinking you were asleep before he headed for the bathroom. taking a quick shower to wash all the sweat off him and to motivate himself the quicker he got out, the more time he'd spend with you. slipping into his grey sweatpants, he quietly made his way out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck to dry his wet locks. he made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water but stopped as he saw you instead, stretching your leg muscles as you were checking your phone. your back was to him, so naturally, he followed the curves of your body, stopping to rest on your 🍑. "tooru? you ok?" he looked up to see you peering over your shoulder at him, "yeah, i'm ok pretty. what are you doing?" you turned around and faced him fully, placing your hands on your hips, "getting ready to workout?" he chuckled, looking at the ground before back up at you, closing the distance, "oh? let me help"

˚✩ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 | you were on your laptop, waiting for suna to arrive home from training. mindlessly scrolling through your social media and shopping websites due to your boredom, when you heard your phone go off, you checked the notification. 'i'm almost there' knowing that meant about 5 minutes or less, you scrambled to hide your phone between the things on the shelves. you had finished and turned back to your laptop as you heard the door open. you were leaning on the countertop, head resting in one of your palms as you heard his footsteps falter behind you. you turned around, seeing him run his hands through his hair as the corners of his lips turned up. "what?" he walked to the counter next to you, head in his hands. "your doing the tiktok challenge" he looked down at your 🍑, before turning you around and bringing you into his embrace. his hands on your hips before he let them rest on a cheek each, "and i love it"

˚✩ 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢 | it was the weekend, more specifically, the day you were meant to spend with sakusa. cuddled up in a bunch of blankets running through multiple movie marathons. but instead, he was curled up at his desk in your room on a zoom call, for an 'emergency meeting' that he couldn't miss. you looked up from your phone on the bed, seeing as he had his headphones in, he wouldn't be able to hear you. you saw your folded leggings sitting on top of your freshly folded laundry and decided you wanted your share of attention. you tiptoed there, stealthily taking off his trackpants you were wearing, and putting your leggings on instead. you looked around the room, noticing that in front of his desk, there was an empty mug, probably from your late night drinks. you quietly made your way over, catching sakusa's eye as he raised an eyebrow at you, "as i was saying-" you faced your back to him and bent over, picking up the mug. standing back up, you turned to face him. "i- uh- the best solution is- uhm- excuse me" he muted himself and turned his camera off, a visible pink on his cheeks flooded to the tips of his ears. he stood from his chair, taking out his headphones as he held eye-contact with you, making his way over. "what do you think your doing brat?"

·.✧ 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 ✧.·

© 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖝. 𝖉𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙, 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊.