#also let's ignore how their performances were again split and released .

[momhwa1117]

Seeing Ateez's Work performance at Music Bank Global Festival...and the MMAs...

I NEED THE WORK VERSIONS RELEASED .... ESPECIALLY THE MMA BAND VERSION...

THEY ARE SOOO FREAKING GOOD..

[pixiedust0]

𝙴𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚖

❥𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙

❥𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 𝟹.𝟷𝙺

❥𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

❥𝙰/𝙽 - 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚣 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎.

Masterlist

Is our favorite singer coming out of hiding?

By: Christian rose

Published August 25, 2022 2:48 pm

Ladies, Gentlemen and non binary’s we at pixie magazine just might have breaking news? Is Y/n L/n finally coming out of hiding?

The singer vanished from the public eye back in 2019 after their public split with Justin Bieber. The two 28 year olds dated for four years and all seem well with the couple.

Until out of nowhere the two both released public statements announcing the break up and just two months later Justin was married to his now wife Hailey Bieber.

Justin statements wrote “It hurts to let the world know that a big piece of life is now over. I met Y/n when we were 18 and I truly did believe we would be together forever we started dating when we were both twenty years old. But I guess it’s true when they say all good things must come to an end. She is my first love and I will always care for her deeply. She was my best friend and she always will be Thank you to everyone who has supported us over the years we love you.”

Ugh we know it made us cry too. Y/n took to instagram to write. “Me and Justin are no longer together. We both came to the mutual decision together. I will be taking a step back from social media Thank you I love you.”

Ouch not so sentimental. After the news broke of Justin and Hailey’s marriage, Y/n released her last and latest song ‘Escapism’. After she seemingly vanished. Which fans believed was a direct shot at her ex.

After the song was dropped the media went crazy with most fan tweeting at the ex couple making the number one trending topic.

Fans wrote:

“Damn wtf did Justin do to her.”

“He most definitely cheated on her.”

“God can she grow up and move on he did”

“I was never really a fan of hers but this song is dope asf.”

“Can we just talk about the fact they were together for four years and after two months apart he’s already married yeah he deserved that song.”

“My queen just ended his career.”

“I love how she didn’t throw a shot at Hailey even though she probably should’ve.”

She had not been seen by paparazzi or on any forms of social media in the last 4 years. Untill yesterday, She was spotted shopping in Newark New Jersey.

This is also where the 2022 MTV Video Music Awards are being held this year. The VMA’s are in just three days could she be going? If so is she preforming?

…

You were so nervous. This was you first official public appearance and performance in four years. Not only that tonight was the night you were coming out about your relationship. You and Jack were walking the carpet together as a couple.

You met jack the day after you and Justin broke up. You decided to go to a bar and wash away your sorrows and he offered to by you drink which you of course accepted. You took him back to your hotel room and slept with him.

This went on for two years until he told you he wanted to go on actual date. You agreed hesitantly afraid of being hurt again. You had a feeling Justin was cheating but you tried your best to ignore hoping he would stop on his on accord.

He didn’t and eventually told you he was was leaving you for her. You didn’t expect them to get married two months later but Jack was there he was always there for you. No matter if it was sex or to hold you while you cried he was there.

He understood you on a level you didn’t think anyone ever would. The love you had for him wasn’t the the same you had for your prior relationship this was more real it felt stronger. He gave your life color where it was once black and white.

“You ready.” His voice broke off your concentration you once had looking at yourself in the mirror. “Yes.” He took your hand in his leading you out of the hotel, the rest of both of your teams following quickly behind.

Once you made it out the front doors of the hotel you all got in black suvs, you and jack getting in your own. He saw the way you knee bounced up and down as you gazed out the window. “You’re going to be okay I’m going to be right there.” He placed on his hands on your bouncing leg ceasing the movements.

“Untill your not.” Your nails picked at the skin of your arm pinching it slightly. If this was a dream you wanted to wake up right now. He took your hand squeezing it gently. “You can do this ma you’ve been practicing for months.”

He was right you had been practicing for months working yourself past the point of exhaustion. You just needed tonight to be perfect. His right hand cupped you check pulling your head up to look at him. “I believe in you.” You gave his a small smile and nod.

The car eventually came to a stop and he gave your hand a quick kiss. “Come on it’s your big moment.” You laughed at his shaking you head no. “You’re co-hosting this is your big moment.” He just rolled his eyes at you. The door opened and he stepped out. You heard excitement and people calling out his name.

Now or never Y/n, let’s do this

You took the hand he was holding out for you stepping out of the car. If you thought the noise was loud before it doubled tenfold. You walked the carpet as he held on to the bottom of your dress. You stopped every once in awhile to take pictures with him.

You forgot how overwhelming it could be, people shouting out your name and to look at them. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe and your hands started shaking. He placed his hand on the small of you back, leaning down to you ear.

“I gotchu you it’s going to be okay just a little while longer.” You heart warmed at this he pulled back slightly. You faces just centimeters apart. “Kiss me please.” The biggest smile broke out on his face as he connected your lips. You kiss lasted only a couple of seconds but it was definitely needed.

He loved that you asked him. You both never went over if pda was okay. It was mostly because you never left your shared home. He wasn’t a big pda guy but you were and he had no problem with that. He just like the fact you made sure it was okay with him before you did anything.

He knew that this whole thing would mess with your anxiety and it worried him. But he also knew you want to do this for him and for yourself. You both got a couple more pictures together before you took separate ones.

You anxiety was more at ease now and you felt almost comfortable. While he was taking pictures with private garden your manager informed you, you had to do at least one interview alone. Great now you were freaking out again.

One of the events works led you to an interviewer. Once you reached her she gave you a very comforting smile as if she could smell your nerves. “Hi I’m Tefi I’m with instyle I’m gonna ask you a few questions.” She gave you her hand to shake which you did. She held out a tiny little microphone which you assumed was to pick up the audio of both of you voices.

“Hi I’m Y/n it’s very nice to meet you.” You were trying to seem calm on the outside and for the most part you did. But the inside you were ready to pass out. “Can I just say I love you and you music.” Her warm nature brought you at ease thanking any gods who were listening.

“Thank you so much.” You gave a quick glance over your shoulder to see where Jack was. You saw him still taking pictures. “I love the little microphone.” You spoke through giggles every time she held it out to you. “Thank you.” She laughed with you.

She asked you a couple questions about how you had been. “I see you came here with Jack how long have you two been together.” You face lit up at the mention of his name. You would think that you would hate getting asked such personal questions and normally you did.

But jack brought you to so much peace you could talk about him for hours. “We’ve been together for two years now-.” Before you could finish you felt a hand slide behind your back pulling you into them. “Best two years of my life.” Jack spoke to her. He introduced himself to her answering a few questions of his own.

“You both look amazing couldn’t think of a better couple of I tried.” You both looked at each other telling her thank you. This was the most blissful your felt all night. “I have to know who dressed you Y/n.” You gave Jack a quick look as he tried not to laugh.

“He did, my stylist picked out five options and he made me try them all on until he chose one.” She gave him an impressed look as if she was tell him good job. “He really picks out all my clothes like I’m a Barbie doll.” You and Tefi laughed together as he just shook his head.

“You’re a Bratz doll ma not no Barbie.” The conversation ended shortly after that saying your goodbyes as you made you way inside taking your seats. When jack had to leave occasionally to host Urban kept you company.

When jack first met you, you didn’t have anxiety you were the most confident person he ever met. But as time past and you self isolated more he noticed anytime you had to leave the house for anything you almost had a panic attack.

It hurt him to see you like that. He could only do so much so he kept you comfortable as much as he could and when he couldn’t like right now he made sure urban did. Urban liked you for the moment he met you he thought you were good for jack.

He also saw the up climb of your anxiety and he made Jack a promise he would look after you and keep you calm. Once it was time for you to preform you headed backstage to get ready, urban going with you.

“So Jack going to introduce you the musics going to start, this door is going to slide up and you’re going to walk out the stage is set and your dancers are ready.” One of the backstage crew members told you. You nodded you head and watched the small tv waiting for your boyfriend to introduce you.

“You going to do great.” Urban encouraged as you gripped your mic tightly. “You can go back to the crowd, I’ll be okay.” He gave you an uncertain look. He didn’t just want to leave you to freak out alone. “You sure?” You replied yes and pulled him into a hug he gave you one last look before make the journey back to his seat.

“Our next performer is definitely the best of the night but I might be a little biased.” He shrugged his shoulders making everyone laugh. You bit your lips trying to concentrate on the fact that you were going to do great.

“Not only can she sing but she can dance. She one of the most talented, sexiest, funniest and smartest people I know.” Not on the fact that you haven’t been on a stage in four years and you might sound and dance horribly. Oh great now you’re thinking about that.

“Y/n L/n Everyone!” The music started and you took a deep breath as the door you were coming out of lifted open. The thing that bothered you most was, everyone thought you were still that same confident girl you were years ago.

Come on Y/n you’ve done this a million times, you can do this.

Not the person you were now and this performance was tailored to the old you. You use to never get nervous preforming ever and now all you could do was pray you wouldn’t fuck this up.

“Sleazin' and teasin', I'm sittin' on him

All of my diamonds are drippin' on him

I met him at the bar, it was twelve or somethin'

I ordered two more wines, 'cause tonight I want him”

For the last couple years you felt something missing. This was it. The feeling you got while singing on stage everyone standing to watch you and dancing to beat of the song. You keep a straight face while you sang that’s what you always did.

To you it showed how grounded and confident you were. You walked towards the middle of the stage where your dancers already were dancing on their black chairs. You sat down on your chair following the movements to the choreography.

“A little context if you care to listen

I find myself in this shit position

The man that I love sat me down last night

And he told me that it's over, dumb decision”

“And I don't wanna feel how my heart is rippin'

Fact, I don't wanna feel, so I stick to sippin'

And I'm out on the town with a simple mission

In my little black dress and this shit is sittin'”

You felt happy being in public for the first time in a long time. You never imagined you would find the nerve to do this again but here you were.

“Just a heart broke bitch

High heels six inch

In the back of the nightclub, sipping champagne

I don't trust any of these bitches I'm with

In the back of the taxi sniffing”

Jack was standing next to urban and all he could say was he was surprised. He was a fan way before you started dating so he knew what you could do but seeing it in person was something completely different.

You looked so comfortable. He watched the way you moved your body. The way you made eye contact with the camera and how you looked at all the other celebrities around the room. He was proud of you.

“Drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex

I was looking for a man who's on the same page

Now it's back to the intro, back to the bar

To the Bentley, to the hotel, to my old ways”

He just stared at you smiling widely. When you finally made eye’s contact he watched your once confident face break out into a smile as you saw his own. He could tell you we’re trying to fight it but you couldn’t help it.

“Cause I don't wanna feel how I did last night

I don't wanna feel how I did last night

Doctor, doctor, anything, please

Doctor, doctor, have mercy on me

Take this pain away

You're asking me my symptoms, doctor

I don't wanna feel”

You got up from you chair and started to head in the direction of the stairs. Walking down them with the help of the male dancers. A cameraman walking backwards in front of you as you walked on the main floor.

“Took this joint how I'm blowing this steam

Back to my ways like 2019

Not 24 hours since my ex did dead it”

You stop in front of Jack turn to back was pressed to his front.

“I got a new man now, it's about to get sweaty”

Once you turned to look at him he grabbed your hand, that wasn’t holding the mic and kissed it. He gave you a wink as would walked away making your back on the stage.

“Cause I don't wanna feel how I did last night

I don't wanna feel how I did last night

Doctor, doctor, anything, please

Doctor, doctor, have mercy on me

Take this pain away

You're asking me my symptoms, doctor

I don't wanna feel”

Once the music stopped everyone cheered for you. All your dancer pulling you into a hug as they went to commercial. You all walked off stage as they got ready to set something else up. You gave your mic back and released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

You were quickly snatched up into a hug. Immediately relaxing once you recognized the body holding you. “You did so fucking good ma. How do you feel?” You laugh at him holding on to the hug a little longer. He pulled away slightly so he could see your face.

“Incredible now that I with you.”

…

You and Jack sat next to eachother gripping your hands together as they were getting ready to announce song of the summer. “And the winner is Jack Harlow!” He pulled you into a quick kiss before going to accept his award.

He gave his speech, you could tell how truly happy he was. He had worked so hard on his album and you were just thankful he was getting the recognition he deserved. “I also wanna give a quick shout out to my beautiful girlfriend. She’s the girl I would’ve flirted with in class, my little secret, my poison you name it thank you ma.”

…

Liked by Jackharlow, Urbanwyattt, Druski2funny, lilnasx and 3,095,133 others

Y/nL/n Hey guess what, I came out of hiding☺️

Jackharlow Damn ma😫

Y/nL/n 💋

User23 OMG THAT PERFORMANCE WAS EVERYTHING

Urbanwyatt it’s about time

User7 can we talk about how the minute she looked at Jack while singing she smiled 🥹

User69 The couple we never knew we needed‼️

User0 Her and Justin are really done😭

User62 girl- they been done

Liked by Y/nL/n, urbanwyatt, Druski2funny, Champagnepapi and 1,147,412 others

Jackharlow 4 PIECE ft.My girlfriend🍗🍗🍗🍗

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[waybrights]

the long awaited (not rlly ahdbajd) lore post about how the band's dynamic and relationships fluctuate throughout the eight (?) years the fic follows!!!

(so, i realise that in the show, they're 13 in 2019/20 but i kinda forgot abt that when i was making this au so the band starts blowing up in 2013 when, canonically they would've been like 5 so i accidentally aged them all up and now they're 20)

2013 - they're 13 and very close to falling apart as a group. the only thing keeping them together is the fact that they wouldn't rlly have anyone else to go to. the leader is clearly sasha and the other two kinda do what she says. ofc anne argues w her a lot, because she's fed up with the way her and marcy are treated and how all their ideas are chucked out the window. eventually, i think sasha crosses a line (maybe smth like in the show, she keeps anne out instead of letting her go home to her bday party) and anne decides that it's time for them to go their separate ways.

however, they get thrown into fame and suddenly there is no chance of them breaking up the band and going their separate ways. so they're practically forced to stay together and have to pretend to get along for the public. ofc sash and anne rlly don't like it, but they try. though, it usually ends up in arguments or snide remarks that get under the other's skin and marcy having to come between them and settle it. leading to even more strain on their friendship.

2014 - somehow, it's got worse. anne and sasha weren't on talking terms for half the year due to a falling out over costumes that got a bit heated. marcy was constantly flitting between the two, trying desperately to make amends because people were starting to notice the tension when they did interviews. ofc they tried to keep up the 'we're besties' thing, but even that was quickly falling apart. it doesn't help that the entire time, sasha has been trying to control everything the band does from songs, to how they stand on stage.

both of them kept asking for the band to break up, w sasha saying she would rather go solo than perform w anne, but the idea got shot down p early on due to them being one of the biggest teen bands in the world, so they kinda just, force themselves to make up. and it's awkward for a while, but at least they aren't arguing over every single thing and marcy doesn't have to chose who she's going to hang out w that day. but then that all goes down the drain when sasha has a major falling out w their manager (hop pop) over smth p trivial but ofc it ends up blowing up and everyone ends up taking sides creating a split between both the band and the bts team.

2015 - i think this is when they reach their breaking point and the band goes on an unexplained 'hiatus' for a year, all their concerts get cancelled and they don't produce any music and it seems none of the girls are w eachother (via social media). they go through an unofficial break up. it had actually been initiated by marcy because she simply couldn't deal w the stress of trying to hold the band together anymore and decided it was a good idea for them to split (it also helped that she was closest to the head of their label so she managed to convince him to let them go)

the three hardly talk during their break, i think they're all angry at eachother (marcy w both of them and anne and sasha w each other) so they just decided to steer clear of having to talk to them. during this time sasha does release a solo album and it actually gets quite big because its very obviously her own thoughts and feelings and everyone can tell she worked hard on it, but (and sasha also admits it) it feels like its not as good as it could've been if she was w the other two.

and i feel like that's kinda what spurs her to maybe start getting her act together! like obviously she doesn't 'change' but i think she accepts that marcy and anne are their own people and know what they want. so she ends up trying to get them back together, and it doesn't actually take the other two much convincing (they missed being together a lot more than they care to admit)

2016 - slowly, they're starting to grow closer again. they start hanging out a trio, even when they're alone. anne and sasha hardly argue and they actually think abt each other's ideas. marcy is a lot more relaxed because they don't have to mediate every convo the group has and she doesn't have to worry abt the other two saying something too serious to the other.

ofc they still fight, but they aren't as often and certainly not as messy. they wouldn't consider each other best friends, but they are friends again. i like to think they're both closer to marcy than each other, but they're getting somehwere.

however, no actual apologies were ever said (mainly from sasha ngl) and although anne and marcy like to pretend they're over it, they would still be slightly upset abt it.

2017 - this is the year of sasha's Character Development (TM) according to marcy. idk yet what makes her realise (maybe someone asking her why she's always so distant and awful to the other two, or maybe a question abt why they split up), but it's this year that it clicks for her that she's not been a great friend. so she definitely spends a long time trying to grow and work to fix her mistakes.

i feel like it's around this time she would also kinda step down from her role as the 'leader' of the band, now officially giving all three of them the same amount of control about what they make and how they do it (although, they still don't have much because of the label, but anne and marcy now have more than they did). so now they're all on equal ground and are making amends. she also stops trying to take control of eveything, esp things that are out of her hands (like where they tour and what interviews they do)

not that there aren't still arguments, there are but they never get to the point that they don't talk to each other. there is a pretty big argument between sasha and marcy, but it gets resolved quite fast!

2018 - 2019 - honestly, everything seems to be going smoothly for them. sasha and anne are growing closer (and they're both trying to ignore that weird feeling they get in their stomachs when they get too close in rehearsals/concerts), all three of them are hanging out almost all the time, if one of them is around the other two are close by.

i think they also start opening up to each other around this time, not that they didn't before, but with the amount of problems they had, it wasn't exactly easy to talk abt super personal stuff. but they start, and i think it was anne that started it, she's always been the most open w her emotions and it just increases the closer they get. she also manages to get both marcy and sasha to open up a bit!

2020 - by this time, i think they pretty much consider each other best friends again (well, more for sasha and anne, but they haven't exactly realised they like each other yet. marcy has though and they're tired of the pining at this point).

and i dont want to say anything else because this is where the fic pics up!!! it was super fun trying to work all this stuff out sbsbbssh, it isn't all like 100% set in stone, some stuff is liable to change but pls feel free to ask any questions!!! thank u all for reading this far and i hope u enjoyed some sats au lore <3

[adorethedistance]

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy

Words: 1865

Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.

A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.

I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.

“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.

“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.

Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.

“So, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.

“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”

“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.

“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.

“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”

“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.

“The first one?”

“How many times have you hung out?”

“Just the once.”

“Are you planning another date?”

“It wasn’t a date-”

“Do you want us to help wingman you?”

“I really don’t-”

“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.

“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”

“...yeah?”

“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.

“Is this Chicago?”

“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.

Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.

I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.

The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.

“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I’ve never known anything so true-”

“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.

“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.

“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.

“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.

“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.

“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”

“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.

“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.

“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”

The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.

The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.

“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”

“Me neither.”

“Your hair stayed intact.”

“I must have a pretty good stylist.”

After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.

“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.

“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”

“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.

“Just getting to know each other my ass!”

“What the heck was that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”

“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”

Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.

“We were just acting, you guys.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.

“He’s just a really good performer is all.”

“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.

“Okay-”

“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”

“It was just a song, Ella.”

“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”

***

A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayenneferburnham​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​ @celestialmolina​ @lilyjoyner​ 

[jincherie]

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.  

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare. 

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword. 

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life. 

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.    

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching. 

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from. 

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse. 

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now. 

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably. 

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it. 

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment. 

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting. 

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.  

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely. 

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising.  “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way. 

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip.  The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him. 

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does. 

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not. 

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can. 

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features. 

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events. 

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls. 

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel. 

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane. 

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here. 

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics. 

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts. 

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing. 

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes. 

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does. 

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour. 

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there. 

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier. 

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death. 

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this. 

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

 …You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride.  “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch. 

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know. 

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself. 

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone. 

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing. 

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly. 

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten. 

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches  and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics. 

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations. 

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think. 

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped. 

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

[casualreader1234]

Reunion

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

An: Part two of the random story idea I had. I think I'm just going to keep the same summary each time because I'm too bad at writing them. I tried to make this gender-neutral, and I don't think I wrote anything that would imply a particular sex, but let me know.

Summary: What if you weren't the hero of the story? What if you were the villain meant to burn the world down?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Morally gray protagonist, violence

Word Count: 2k

[Part 1], [Part 2]

This gif is so funny to me.

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

When you had first arrived in the U.S, you had been intrigued by tales of the infamous Black Widow, a former Russian assassin turned good, that was enough to catch anyone's attention. To satisfy your curiosity, you had tracked her down, wanting to see her for yourself. Watching her from afar, you understood why she was considered one of the best in her field: her movements always flowed into the next like she was performing a dance.

She easily disposed of her targets, strapping her weapons back onto herself. Seeing the completion of her job, you left the ledge of the building you had been standing of before she could see you. Slipping into the shadow, you had to admit that your interests had been piqued by the assassin.

///

You had always known that your girlfriend had been hiding secrets, but this one was far more exciting than you had thought. Never had it crossed your mind that Natasha might also be involve in the assassin industry. For such a planet, what were the chances of two assassins meeting and starting a relationship without either being the wiser. You weren't sure if that made her exceptionally good at her job, or you exceptionally bad at yours.

Asking around to some of your other contacts, you learned more about the KGB and the Red Room program that had trained Natasha, wanting a glimpse into her childhood. Disgust and rage filled you when you learned about the operation. They had hurt her, so you had made sure they all suffered for their crimes. Then, you returned back to America.

It was the reason you had stayed all these years. She was the reason. Though you've known where she's been all this time, you never revealed yourself. Maybe it was out of fear. Maybe it was out of shame.

It hadn't surprised you that Natasha decided to work for SHIELD. You've also known that she had a good heart, but it did make things more complicated.

She was one of the good guys now. If she ever crossed paths with you, she would be forced to face you as an enemy. So, for both of your sakes, you avoided doing things that would get SHIELD attention, carefully selecting jobs that would run under the radar. You had been careful, erasing most of your tracks, yet here you were, chained down to a table in a SHIELD facility.

Natalia-no-Natasha stared down at you. You unconsciously cringed under her intense gaze.

" How are you darling?" You asked, breaking the thick silence and giving her a small smile. "I must say, you look as stunning as always. Did you do something to your hair? It seems to be shorter."

Natasha didn't reply, instead shaking her head angrily. " What the hell, (Y/n). What are you doing in the U.S?"

Her harsh tone almost made you flinch. “ Here to visit my beautiful girlfriend? I've really missed you.” You tried, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your neck. Natasha may not have any powers but damn was this woman scary when she was mad. Flattery wasn't going to work on Nat though, her face stone cold as she looked down at you.

"That doesn't answer the question, milyy (darling)." She replied with a strained smile.

Tony watched the exchange with a slack jaw, eyes looking like they were going to pop out of his sockets from shock. “ I’m sorry? You know this criminal Nat?”

Your head snapped to the man, jaw clenching. “ Nat?" You sputtered at the intimate nickname. "Who gave you permission to call her Nat?” You swiveled back to look at Natasha. “What is your relationship with him?” You asked accusingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Tony. “ Don’t call me Nat, Stark. And this idiot here is (Y/N).”

"Yeah, her [girlfriend/boyfriend] ! " You added helpfully.

The look Natasha gave you was deadly enough to silence you again. She turned her attention back to Tony, " Do you want to fill me on what's happening Stark? I return from a mission and hear from Steve that we had caught a mutant, but I wasn't even aware that we were after one." You frowned at the fact that had she referred to you as a mutant, but chose to ignore it.

Tony shrugged, acting like a bratty overgrown child," No, I don't want to." Natasha's jaw clenched and you decided to lend a helping hand.

Tendrils of black suddenly snaked around Tony, pining him hard against the wall behind him. His eyes widened, shooting to the origin of the magic, seeing you now unbounded and smiling widely at him, the handcuff hanging loosely off the table. Standing up, you rubbed at the red marks on your wrist left by the binds.

"Better answer her, Mr. Stark, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." You threatened, eyes turning pure black for a split second.

Tony desperately looked at Natasha for help, but she stayed steadfast, unmoved and patiently waiting for him to answer. Realizing that no help was coming, he relented. "Fury got tipped off about some assassin that had been piling up bodies all across the U.S and North America. At first we dismissed them as the work of sporadic killers, not linking the deaths together until we got another tip about them being a mutant. We had Wanda examine a few of the bodies and she confirmed that magic was the cause of death. Since then, we've had our eye set on a contracted killer who went by the alias Reaper. A few weeks ago, we got a hit on their last location, and from there, we planned our trap."

Realization dawned onto you, " You put a bounty over yourself!" You exclaimed with a chuckle, thoroughly impressed by their commitment. It was a good plan, one that you hadn't even considered. Of course, if it had been any other week, the plan would've failed.

Every time you used magic, there was a backlash. The magic was deep inside you, a part of your very being, but it didn't stay that way willingly. The black flames were a dark and ancient form of magic, one that could only be wielded by a select few. Long ago, many groups had tried to master the arts, but most failed. The magic was powerful, more than anyone really knew, and only grew more so as it consumed more energy. Magicians didn't as much wield the magic, as they did subjugate it.

Candidates trained for years in preparation for the infusion, getting their body ready to handle massive amount of energy. When they were deemed ready, they would be exposed to a pure form of the magic. The flames would consume them and their screams could be heard for miles. Most people who entered the last trial end up dead, completely consumed by the magic. A few though, came out stronger. Instead of being consumed by the flames, they had somehow consumed the flames, magic now flowing through their veins.

Even then, the magic inside of wielders fought against their vessels, constantly trying to escape. The ring you wore helped you control the magic inside, absorbing some of the power and trapping the rest of the flames within you, where it couldn't escape and grow any stronger. But every time you took off the ring, you unintentionally let the magic grow, and when it finally returns back to you, the fight inside gets a little tougher.

Normally, it didn't affect you much. You had been trained since childhood to control the magic, so you could go hours with continuous magic use without any major repercussion. But the past month, you had really tested your bounds, toeing the limits of your control. This inevitably degraded your mental state, leaving your mind a little hazy. This meant you were a lot more impulsive and less observant, something that played in favor to SHIELD's trap. You knew you shouldn't have taken the hit on Tony, especially due to your exhaustion, but you had let your excitement of possibly seeing Natasha blind you. Nevertheless, the current situation didn't really worry you anyways, although you made a note to deal with a problem later.

"And why wasn't I informed of this?" Natasha pressed on.

"Don't take it personally. You're area of skills weren't required for the job, so you weren't informed. Simple as that." Tony plainly stated, clearly sensing the Russian's agitation.

You had to stifle your laughter at the irony. If Natasha had been assigned to the case earlier, you probably would've been captured much sooner.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, obviously deep in thought as well. " Release him, (Y/N)." She finally said and you happily obliged, but not sliding you ring back on, letting the flames surround you in a hazy aura incase you needed to react to any threats. Tony let out of breathe of relief as your magic retreated, but you could see that he was still a bit shaken up, the effects not fully wearing off.

"Hey are you alright darling?" You asked concernedly, ignoring the wobbling man when you caught Natasha looking a little pale. Walking over to where she was, you reached out a hand to lightly caress her cheek, the flames retreating as it reached her. You hesitated for a split second, unsure of how she would react, but Natasha leaned into your touch. Her eyes met yours. It was the same bright green that you dreamt about, and they looked even more dazzling up close. She smiled up at you and it was like all the years you've spent apart hadn't happened.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She whispered reassuringly and you smiled too in relief. “ What does Fury want with the (Y/N)?” She asked Tony, but her eyes didn't leave you.

“ The same thing we do to all threats. We either eliminate or imprison them .” He answered, voice indifferent.

Natasha turned to him, much to your dismay, “Why can’t we accept them into SHIELD?” she offered instead.

Tony, who had thought your weird relationship with Natasha was the strangest thing that could happen, couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You want to let an assassin into our ranks? Are you crazy?! Did you already get your hands on the vodka shelf?” He stammered.

Natasha gave him a dark look, one that sent a chill of excitement down your spine, “I was an assassin too Tony.”

Tony didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but he didn’t need to. The door to the room swung opened again, this time a larger blonde man marching in. You recognized him from your intel: Steve Rogers-Captain America. Behind him, you saw several heavily armed agents behind him, their guns trained on you.

Natasha whipped around at the sudden intrusion, surprise flashing across her face. " Steve." She said warningly, noticing the same things you did, but Steve didn't let her finish, already throwing out his shield in attack. The metal was launched at you, cutting through the air faster than the eyes could follow.

You easily caught it, magic stopping it mid-flight.

You sighed at his pathetic attempt, " Mr. Rogers, don't you know it's rude to interrupt? You can't just come in here, guns blazing, and shield flying." You reprimanded, lazily throwing the shield back to the man. Steve tried to catch the shield, but was knocked back by the sheer force of your throw. The men immediately behind him stumbled back in shock as the 6'1 super solider crashed into them. Those who were left standing quickly recovered and upon realizing that their first line of attack had been beaten, prepared to shoot. They found themselves unable to. Fear had crept up on them during the ruckus and now they were unable to move as your magic seeped through them. With a simple wave of your hand, the black flames around you attacked and within seconds, all the agents, including Cap, dropped to the floor.

"What?" Tony gasped in horror, and for the first time, he seemed to truly understand the extent of your power.

"Relax, they're not dead. I just knocked them out for-" You pretended to check your wrist for a watch, " -a while. I don't know, I usually don't wait around for the people I knock out to wake back up."

Natasha was staring in shock at the pile of bodies by the door and you saw something indistinguishable in her eyes. A distinct chime echoed off the walls of the room, drawing your attention to your phone in the corner. You walked over to it, Tony looking like he wanted to stop you but was too terrified to. Picking it up, you read the message silently. Shouting could be heard getting louder, footsteps pounding towards you as alarms blared.

"Looks like that's my cue to leave." You announced to Natasha and Tony. " Sorry to cut our reunion short Talia."

Natasha stepped forward, blinking out of her shock. "(Y/N) wait-!" She began.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be staying a little bit longer in New York. We'll see each other soon my love." You promised, picking up one of the fallen agent's guns and shooting out the lights until you were enveloped in pitch darkness. Then, before the backup agents could arrive, you melted away into the shadows.

///

You emerged from a dark alleyway in some shifty part of the Bronx. Pulling out your phone, you replied to Matt, your associate, declining the new job he had sent over, informing him that you would be taking a vacation for a while.

Seeing Natasha had reminded you of how much you actually missed her, and you didn't want to just leave New York yet, not when you barely had the chance to catch up with your lover.

But first, you had a snitch to catch. Someone had tipped off SHIELD about you. Someone who knew you about your power at that. You couldn't let someone so dangerous live.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Powers of Reader [Will be updated as more information is learned about Reader]

-Ability to set fear in opponents

-Ability to melt into shadows (teleportation like: goes into one shadow, pops up somewhere else)

-Magic flames that kill people(?) and knocks them out(?)

-Major simp for Natasha (special skill)

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

[cakelanguage]

This took much longer than I thought it would, but work has been absolutely exhausting lately. I'm honestly just excited that I get to share this with you all because I really wanted to participate in Hurt!Noct Week. This is a combination of day 1 prompts: buried alive and captured by Nifleheim (at least sort of?). This is just the 1st chapter, but I figured I’d share at least this bit for now. I hope you enjoy this!

You can also read this on AO3

-

He should’ve called Ignis. Or texted Gladio that he was going to be ten minutes late to their training session. Or Astrals, accepted Prompto’s offer to walk home with him even though his house was in the opposite direction.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d strolled down the bustling streets, thinking about the planned King’s Knight session later that night. He scrolled idly through the mission details, trying to formulate a plan of attack. The last time Noctis had attempted this mission he’d been severely outclassed and had to abandon the mission lest he lose what little loot he’d been able to pilfer from the dungeon. With Gladio’s character acting as their tank, he could have Ignis on range attacks and healing. Prompto had the best stealth stats so they could have Prompto looting the place while the rest of them took care of the bigger monsters. Noctis fancied himself an all-around player so he could assist wherever needed the most help.  

Caught up in his mini strategy session, he didn’t realize he was on a collision course with someone until he ran right into them. He stumbled, juggling his phone between his hands in an attempt to save it from meeting its demise on the pavement below.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man he ran into grumbled, brushing imaginary dirt off his jacket.

The man was dressed lavishly in a wide variety of patterns and textures. His coat looked sturdy and thick like it would keep out even the harshest of cold winds. The scarf around his neck was the brightest piece of clothing he wore—the reddish-orange silk oddly complementing the man's red-violet hair. Not a sliver of the man’s skin was visible besides the tip of the man’s fingers and his face under the shade of his fedora.

He had a right to be upset even if half of him wanted to insist that the man could have moved too. He shoved that thought down and instead nodded his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” Noctis apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Yes, I figured as much.” The man squinted at him, his head cocking to the side. “Hold on a moment, don’t I know you?”

Not for the first time, he was thankful for his privacy. His father had done a remarkable job at keeping him much out of the public eye. People knew who he was, but because he wasn’t in any of the newspapers or rag magazines that most celebrities appeared in he could go through life like normal. He didn’t have to think about paparazzi waiting outside his school or people approaching him asking for something or other.

“Probably not,” Noctis said, “maybe you’ve seen me walking home before? I go to the high school three blocks away.”

Shaking his head, the man inspected his face more thoroughly. “No that’s not it. I’ve definitely seen you before.” He felt as if the man could count his pores, and Noctis shuffled backward away from the man’s heavy stare. “Have you got an uncle that works at the palace? I used to work there.”

The man gave Noctis a private quirk of his lips like he was privy to some hidden joke that only he knew.

“Oh that’s… nice?”

The man nodded absentmindedly gaze still heavy on Noctis. “Hm, you really do look familiar,” he commented. “Quite handsome too.”

“Thanks?” Noctis looked down at his uniform and his loosened tie and wondered if there was a polite way to excuse himself from the conversation. He didn’t want to be rude by walking away from the man but he really did need to get going or he was going to be later than he thought to Gladio’s training session. “Well, I’m sorry for walking into you like that, but I gotta get going.”

“Right, right, of course.” The man swept a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s not like I can keep the prince from his important tasks just to talk with me.”

Ice filled Noctis’ veins as his title was casually thrown out by the man who claimed he couldn’t place his face. He stared at the man, uncomprehendingly. This was starting to look like the beginning of one of Ignis’ crime drama shows. Why did the man lie? What was his angle? What was going on?

“Who are you?” Noctis asked, channeling his calm façade to the max.

“A man of no consequence, I assure you.” The man waved him off with a few shooing gestures. “Off you go, your highness.”

Noctis gave him a wary look and an awkward bob of his head. He needed to get out of here. Ready to put this whole interaction behind him, he stepped to the side of the man to continue his route. Except he didn’t get very far before a hand latched onto his wrist with surprising force.

A violent tug had him wrenching himself back around, his shoulder twinging at the sudden jerk. Face-to-face with the man once more, Noctis saw how the man’s expression was colder, harsh in the afternoon sun. His teeth were bared in a sneer—looking for all the world like a coeurl.

“Let go,” Noctis ordered, now glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Didn’t you just tell me to go?”

A taunting smile peaked through the man’s sneer. “Now why would I do that?” He asked.

Noctis clenched his fists and bit out another order. “Let go of me, now.” He grabbed his phone with his free hand and quickly dialed the palace’s emergency numbers. It would be mildly embarrassing if Gladio found out he’d called the Crownsguard on a regular citizen, but his SAS kidnap training was blaring in his ears. “I’m warning you, I can have you arrested.”

A soft tsk came from the man who shook his head at Noctis’ threat. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

He opened his mouth to demand his release again, but all that came out was a choked-off yelp as something heavy struck his head. His knees refused to hold up his body and he collapsed to the concrete. The skin of his palms was torn in his attempt to catch himself, but he couldn’t feel it; the sharp pain by his temple shadowed the pain in his palms.

He turned his gaze back to the blurry figure of the man, who had been joined by another figure. His brain felt sluggish, his thoughts thick in his mouth as he tried to string a sentence together. “W-what—“

“Shh,” The man shushed, ignoring Noctis’ flinch as he tenderly ran a hand through Noctis’ hair. “Good night, sweet prince.”

The last thing he saw was a fist coming at his face.

Then nothing.

He regained consciousness with a choked-off groan. He felt like he’d gone through one of Gladio’s marathon training sessions and lost miserably.

Laying still, he took stock of his body. His lip was swollen and tender as he wet his dry, split lips. The right side of his face throbbed in-tune with his heartbeat and Noctis could barely get that eye to open more than a crack. What was he supposed to do? He’d been trained on how to handle a kidnapping situation; Cor had made it abundantly clear the variations in which people would try to snatch him up. But this wasn’t just a ‘what if.’ He’d been kidnapped not even four blocks away from his school.

It was a matter of figuring out what he could do to get out of here. He still had his magic though admittedly his connection to the Crystal felt like he was trying to pull at the energy through a strainer. Like sifting through a pile of hay for the needle—all of his abilities being the needle and the presence of his magic being the hay.

But that didn’t mean he was helpless. He just needed to approach the situation the right way and he could escape. He tried to remain calm, limiting his breathing to shallow breaths to keep up his ruse. This became a fruitless act when he heard someone or something step up behind him.

A familiar voice came from behind him. “It appears our guest of honor is awake,” the man cooed. Some of the man’s nonchalance had vanished, replaced by cruel giddiness. “And how are you, your majesty?”

Like hell he was going to go along with this guy’s fake care. His pride wouldn’t let him bite out a pleasantry, instead choosing to press his steely gaze on the eccentric man. His stare didn’t deter the man’s delight in his situation which only served to make his blood simmer in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off that face.

“I think you’ll find, Noctis,” the man loomed over him, nudging him lightly in the ribs with his boots, “that I have the upper hand.”

He didn’t. Noctis refused to believe it. He may not have had any weapons on him, but Noctis had dialed the emergency response number for the palace. By dialing the number he had ensured back-up would be on their way to his location in less than five minutes. Well, the location of where the call took place. He couldn’t feel the shape of his phone in his pockets, but the Crownsguard would be able to pick up on any trail his kidnapper had left behind.

All he needed to do was wait.

“What do you want?” Noctis asked, shifting his position on the floor to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower back. He could already feel the scar tissue there begin to burn and ache.

“Already wanting me to reveal my dastardly plan?” The man questioned. “How cliché.” Noctis’ face must’ve given away his annoyance because the guy clucked his tongue at his expression.

“I realize this isn’t one of your silver-spoon soirees, but it’ll serve as a good setting for the video.” He straightened and made his way over to the small set-up of… camera equipment? “We need you to put on your best performance, your highness.” He looked up with a cold smile that sent a shiver running down Noctis’ spine. “Though do save some for the main event.”

“So you’re gonna, what? Ransom me or something?” Noctis squirmed in his binds. “Is that your plan?”

Humming noncommittally, the man continued setting up his equipment. “Or something.”

“Not much of a talker huh?” He was banking on being able to get some info out of the guy so he could shout it over what was sure to be his ransom video.

The waiting was bizarre. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t feel like he was all there—though the main contributor to this was the head injury—the quiet sounds of rustling cables and footsteps gave him peace of mind amongst the simmering unrest and anxiety as the experience faded into less immediate danger. If only he could concentrate on his armiger and summon the knife he stored there—then he’d be able to warp out of his binds and escape.

A quiet huff of laughter broke through the silence; it took him a few moments to realize the laugh came from him . It wasn’t funny, not by a long-shot. He was being stupidly optimistic, especially since his vision still wavered between doubled and covered in black splotches. He probably had one hell of a shiner too.

He wished he’d called someone to get him.  

The derelict state of his mind was brushed away as a triumphant cry echoed slightly around him. He squinted at the man who looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Noctis asked, tiredly. He had no desire to give the man the reactions he was hoping for. Actually, the other being put off by his apathy made him feel better. “Did you finally get your whole… set-up ready?”

The man had the audacity to pout at him. “Now you’re just no fun,” he complained. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’ve brought you here?”

Noctis shrugged. “Not really?” The motion caused his chains to rattle in the tight space. “Most of the guys I’ve been kidnapped by all want the same thing: revenge or money.”

“I can assure you that my reason is definitely not for any monetary reason.” The man took a step towards him. “I suppose you could call it revenge, though I admit you are simply unlucky—to be chosen by the gods.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb along his cheekbones. “You do bear a striking resemblance to him.”

A nail dug it the flesh underneath his eye and Noctis hissed, attempting to turn his face out of the man’s grip. “What a pity,” the man said, releasing his hold on Noctis. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair that you finally be able to put a name to your captor.”

“Oh now you want to introduce yourself?” Noctis grumbled—because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life apparently.

Fortunately, the man seemed amused by his comment. “Do forgive me for my rudeness, your highness .” The mocking emphasis he placed on the title was not lost to Noctis, but he didn’t dignify him with an answer. “I’ve been reduced to the moniker ‘Adagium,’ by the royal line of Lucis.”

It sounded familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place where he’d heard it. Had the name come up in his studies? Was it a political thing?

Adagium sighed and shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. Your dear father is desperately trying to keep you in the dark.”

Noctis furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he’s keeping me in the dark?”

With a shake of his head, Adagium stepped back over to his equipment. “I’ve talked enough for now, it’s time we get the show started lest the party be stopped before it’s even begun.” Adagium grinned at him. “The stage is yours, prince Noctis.”

A red light blinked to life on the camera as Noctis stared into the lens. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Did Adagium want him to beg? To show whoever was watching the video that he was scared? He wasn’t. Scared that it is. Unnerved? Yes, how could he not be when he was kidnapped and tied up in some unknown location.

His captor sighed tilting his hat to cover his face and—

Adagium changed. No longer was he wearing the extravagant, pattern-clashing, textile collage of an outfit. He was in a set of armor, his face masked and hair tucked away under the rigid helmet. Noctis had only seen the armor in person once before on that fateful escape from Tenebrae as he reached desperately for Luna’s hand.

Magitek armor.

To see the man stripped of his individualism did more to bother Noctis than he expected. Something about the metal, placid expression staring at him had his stomach clenching nervously. How had Adagium done it? An illusion? But how? To his knowledge, illusion magic was typically only used by the messengers of the gods; he figured he’d already met all of them at this point with his connection to Luna.

With four jerky steps, Adagium stood beside him, a hand painfully clasping his shoulder. Noctis side-eyed the man as if he could glean some sort of direction for what he wanted Noctis to do.

Once again, Adadgium broke the silence. “Salutations, Your Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum,” Adagium said, “113th monarch in the long line of Lucis.”

He’d somehow managed to project his voice to see like he was behind the camera again. Another impossibility Noctis didn’t know how to find an answer to.

“As you can see, I have an auspicious guest with me, one I know you’re well-acquainted with. Won’t you say hello to your dear father, Noct?” Adagium asked.

Gritting his teeth, Noctis glared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t going to give the other what he wanted, not when he could still deny him of his game. If he could weaponize his silence, he would.

With an angry tut from Adagium, Noctis’ hair was yanked with a merciless tug, pulling his head backward and exposing his throat. He could feel the handful of hair desperately trying to cling to his scalp as he let out a small whimper at the rough treatment.

“What a difficult boy,” Adagium commented, “he must’ve been quite the child to raise. To think he’d forget his manners at a time like this.”

“Shut up,” Noctis growled.

“Oh he speaks! Splendid! Now while I’ve broken through that stony exterior, we can commence the show.”

Suddenly, a knife was pressed against Noctis’ neck. He flinched back into Adagium’s hold on his hair, but the knife followed, the edge of the blade making a small, shallow cut on the delicate skin of his neck. He was helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of his captor. And it didn’t seem like Adagium had any qualms against hurting him.

The blood that lazily oozed from the wound dripped down his neck and settled into his jugular notch like a morbid jewel. Noctis heard Adagium’s hum of approval and could feel the pressure of the knife increase slightly as if Adagium had lapsed in his awareness that he was the one holding the knife and thus in control of how far the blade entered Noctis’ flesh.

“Now, I understand why Lucis values black as a special color—it goes amazingly with blood red, wouldn’t you agree?”

He said it so off-handedly that Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to: Noctis, Regis, or himself. What was clear, was that Adagium had a deep-seated grudge against Lucis—the royal line in particular. But why? Was he from one of the outer nations that had been left behind when his father had to pull back the wall to just the city of Lucis?  

Adagium broke out of his musings, finally pulling the knife back enough that it was just resting against the cut. “Never mind that,” he said. “I expect you’re waiting for some kind of demand from me. Money? Some impossible wish for power? Recognition?” Noctis could hear the smirk in his voice, that deceptively playful quirk of his lips. “No, I don’t want any of those, not explicitly at least.”

What do you want? Noctis didn’t voice no matter how much he wanted to. This little video of Adagium’s seemed to be going nowhere which could be good if this was a live broadcast, build the tension maybe.

“My reason for kidnapping Noct is very simple: because I could.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Noctis’ brain stumbled to a halt. That’s it? Because he could? That didn’t make any sense, not when Adagium had brought up some kind of revenge. “What happened to your revenge?” Noctis asked. “You mentioned your reasons could be considered revenge and the gods.” He remembered the forlorn look in Adagium’s eyes before the rage had trickled back in. “You said I resembled someone, Adagium.”

He knew he was being bold, foolhardy more accurately, but his captor hadn’t revealed his name and Noctis was hoping if he brought up his aforementioned desire for revenge on film he’d reveal more of his reasoning. If the heroes in movies could get a villain to reveal their schemes, Noctis should be able to do it to Adagium.

Adagium’s grip on his hair tightened, Noctis crying out as several strands were tugged out of his scalp. “Oh Noct,” he purred, “I see you’ve decided to join the conversation.”

Noctis felt his skin crawl at the contemptuous pride in Adagium’s voice. He’d overstepped with his nosy questions.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Adagium said. “You remember Adagium, do you not Your Majesty? The mythical monster locked away in the dark depths of Angelgard for ages, lost to time amongst the words of false kings and fraudulent nations.”

Who was Adagium? Noctis wondered, a stray tear slipping down the side of his face towards his hairline. “Why?” Noctis whispered, afraid of the answer he’d receive but unwilling to let his question lie.

The magitek disguise rippled ominously, a black miasma seeping through the gaps of armor. Quickly, the figure of Adagium was being overshadowed by the mist. The tiny glints of gold light within the consuming shadows was what gave away the nature of the mist: Starscourge.

Eyes wide, Noctis struggled in the man’s grip. He remembered when the Starscourge had infected him as a child when the Marilith had sliced his back open and nearly severed his spinal cord. The burning agony of the scourge ravaging his body, when not even his coma brought him relief from its infection. The hushed cries of similarly infected at the edges of his mind like a web of anguish, ever-growing with each infected. Get away getawaygetaway.

His struggling was for naught as the black mirage leaned closer to him. “Why?” Adagium asked the hand that held the knife lazily dragged to the center of his chest. “Because I was saving people. Because that first false king was jealous and power-hungry, over-eager to be the one to wear the crown. And the rest,” he spat the word, “never bothered to question any of their forebears, convinced that they had always done what was best for the kingdom of Lucis.”

Noctis shook his head as best he could. “But why would they—“

“Because the gods didn’t stop them.” The knife in his hand pressed harder against Noctis’ chest and hissed at the sting of the blade. “But the time of reckoning is steadily approaching!”

With a flourish of his hand, the knife was sent away. Noctis thought it was eerily similar to accessing the armiger. “While all the pieces aren’t in their proper place just yet, a bit of ‘divine retribution’ soothes the soul.”

“What do you mean by divine retribution?” Noctis asked, his voice far quieter than he expected.

The miasma cloud seemed to grin impossibly wide, though he couldn’t discern an actual face. “I thought it would be perfect for you to atone on behalf of your forebears, Noct. And to have your father helplessly watch as he struggles to find you.”

Adagium stood behind him once more and wrapped his arms loosely around Noctis’ shoulders. “Let’s have the chosen, King of Light spend some time in the dark,” he purred, black ichor dripping onto his shirt. Onto his head. Onto his face. It was everywhere and Noctis couldn’t focus on anything else.

And then there was nothing.

[aliypop]

What If.... An Astrid Story

Word count : 1,660

Warning : None

A/N : To kick off Marvel’s What If.. I figured why not what would happen if Astrid was sent to Midgard as an Avenger instead?

"Agent Sodotirr, " Phil Coulson interjected, "You remember Agent Romanoff..." he asked as Steve stood by the two, "Couldn't forget the redhead if I tried," the voice carried from outside the jet, "And I have..." she joked, as Steve stood there a bit confused,

 "Fun competition," Coulson smirked, 

"Natasha, it's been quite some time love the haircut."

"Astrid..." Natasha rolled her eyes, "Brought the ice block with you, huh..." she mumbled, as Astrid let out a chuckle, "It was Phil and Fury's idea. I just stand around and look badass." she shrugged, "And assemble the avengers intuitive ." The two said in unison. Sitting in the Helicarrier were the avengers planning their attack on Loki, Banner behind the chair, Rogers in front, and Thor pacing like a mad man. 

"He grows on you, doesn't he?"

"Loki's gonna drag this out..." Steve sighed, "So Thor, what's his play." 

"He has an army called the Chitauri.." Thor looked away, "They're not of Asgard, nor any world-known..." he laughed, "He means to lead them against your people.'' As his shoulders dropped, the sound of remorse left his voice, "They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, the Tesseract."

"An army from outer space..." Steve sighed as  Natasha looked over at Bruce, who seemed a bit fed up already, "So he's building another portal.

"He's not leading an army from here..." Astrid walked in, her eyes focused on Thor, 

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats." Bruce shrugged, Natasha watching as Astrid tensed up.  "You can smell crazy on him..." Bruce continued to talk as Thor shot a look at him, "Have care how you speak, Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard," Thor growled, " He is my brother..."

"He killed 80 people in two days..." Natasha glared as Astrid left to find Phil.

"Well, hello there, hot stuff..."

"I can break your arm using only two joints and disembowel you, don't call me hot stuff Stark... " Astrid rolled her eyes, her dark curls up in a ponytail stationary as she had Tony pressed against her, his arm behind his back, 

"Agent Sodotirr... "

"I could be into this." Tony winked as Phil stood there nervously, watching as he let her go, "Do you have a sister by any chance one not so moody." he asked as Phil sent her off, "I will not hesitate to kill him..." she scoffed the heels of her boots echoing away.

"Iridium ... What do they need the Iridium for?" Bruce asked,

"It's a stabilizing agent." Tony smiled, his tone cocky, walking in, "It means the portal won't collapse on itself like; it did at S.H.I.E.L.D." He walked by Thor, "No hard feelings point break, also means the portal can stay open and wide as long as Loki wants."

"Raise the mizzenmast. Jib the topsails." Tony commanded, standing at the control panels, "That man is playing Galaga!" he smirked, "He thought we wouldn't notice, but we did." he pointed, 

As Bruce and Tony began to converse about the tesseract, the silent footsteps and clacking of heels later revealed by the sound of "Doctor Banner'' is only here to track the cube. " I was hoping you might join him." Nick Fury said as Astrid stood next to him, Tony eyeing her, 

"I uh suggest we all get to work..." Astrid commanded, "The quicker we figure this out, the faster we save New York." 

"I think the little ladies onto something." Steve smiled,

"I'd advise you not to call her-" Thor tried to finish as a blue orb came from her fingertips, "Little..." he sighed as Steve blasted across the room. 

"Sir, the mark seven is not ready for deployment..."  Jarvis said as Tony levitated, "then skip the spinning rims we're on the clock..." he commanded, landing on the launchpad, his eyes on the target, which was Loki, 

"Please tell me you're going to appear to my humanity..."  The young God scoffed as Tony laughed, 

"Ugh, actually, I plan to threaten you."

"You should've left your armor on for that..." 

"Ya, you seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the little stick of destiny.'' Tony laughed as a voice came through in his coms, "Tony, this is  Agent Sodotirr whatever you do don-'' he cut the com off as he kept walking,

 "You like a drink?"

"Astrid, what happened..." Thor asked, like the rest of the team set in position to fight, "Stark cut me off.." she growled, 

"I'm going up there..." 

"Fury said to stay here..." Natasha growled, "That was an order." 

"When do I listen to orders..."  Astrid laughed, "Banner, Rogers, cover for me..." she laughed, leaving a projection of herself at the scene of battle.

"Fury's gonna be pissed..."

"Language."

"Stalling me right won't change anything..." Loki laughed, watching as Tony stood behind the bar, "No... no threatening." he winked, "No drink, you sure... I'm having one." he shrugged as Loki got irritated, walking towards the window, 

"The Chitarui are coming..." he laughed, "Nothing will change that..." he turned, watching as Tony poured himself a glass of whiskey, "What have I to fear..." 

"The Avengers" As Loki tensed up, he tried his best to focus on Tony, 

"It's what we call ourselves sort of like a team, Earth's mightiest heroes time free..." he continued pouring, watching as signaled for Astrid to hide. 

"I've met them."

"Let's do a headcount here, your brother the demigod. A super-soldier who lives up to the legend a couple of master assassins and You!" he looked up as he saw Astrid, her crossbow pointed towards his head, 

"Big fella, you managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan." Astrid flipped Loki over, straddling him,  her crossbow in hand, "Nice sparkles..." She examined his suit and how it was shinier than she last remembered. " Give up yet..." Her loose curls framing her face, eyes locked on the prince, "Never darling... besides..." he tilted her chin up with his staff, "I have an army,"  he smirked, his hands wrapped around her neck just above where her amulet was. " And we have a hulk..." Astrid grabbed his wrist, releasing herself from his hold as she pinned him face down to the floor. 

"How are you so good at that..."  Tony whistled, enjoying the view,  "Give up love... seems your time on pathetic Midgard made you forget how I once was"  the staff pointed towards Tony's chest as Loki stood, waiting for the Tesseract to work,

 "This uh this usually works..."

"Ah, performance issues are not uncommon, you know one out of fi-" Loki  threw him to the side as Astrid pulled him closer by her magic, "You're not going anywhere..." she threw a punch as he  held her wrist, 

"Easy for you to say!" he held Astrid down as two blue orbs came from her hands, blasting at him, "What's that supposed to mean!" she demanded, 

"You know an awful lot about leaving..." he held her close, "As much as I hate to see you go..." he pointed the staff at her, " You are in my way!"  he blasted her out the window, leaving her to free fall until she heard the swift sounds of the oh so familiar hammer, 

"Are you alright..." 

"I'm fine... But Loki isn't..." 

"What all do you mean?"

"He's being brainwashed..." Astrid suggested as he placed her down, 

"Perhaps you hit your head..." 

"Or perhaps I'd know my -" 

"Come back again for more..." Loki smirked as Thor sat Astrid down, "Loki turn off the Tesseract!" his hammer pointed towards his brother, 

"You can't. There is no stopping it. There is only the war." 

"So be it!" Thor charged, "Astrid, attend the others!" Thor commanded as she snapped her fingers, appearing in front of the rest of her team. 

"Where have you been." 

"Long story Nat!" Astrid growled, trying to help stir the jet. "Go right!" the plane shifted left as Loki blasted at it, "Your other right!" she grumbled, "I thought Banner was the angry guy..." Steve mumbled as Astrid watched the city turn into chaos, her amulet glowing an intense red as she ignored the humming coming from it.

 "What's that about..." 

"Barton, please..." Natasha looked at Astrid as she nodded,

 "Do what you gotta do, kid... " Tony said from his com. 

"I can't. If I use this, then I could kill him, or me..."  a hint of ache in her voice as Natasha looked at her,

 "That's the point, kill him, Sodotirr!" 

"I can't!" her eyes glew violet, "He's being brainwashed... I can't just kill him!" she covered her mouth, Steve looking down at her, his hand on his shoulders, 

"Can he trust us..." 

"He can trust me, but not the rest of you ..."

"And why's that..." 

"He's my fiancé..." she sighed, the jet quiet for a minute, "You want my advice, Sodotirr..."

"Sure..." 

"Whatever you do, do the right thing and do it now!" Steve commanded as they flew over the city. Chaos swept Manhattan as the Avengers fought to the best of their ability. There was still only one way to do it. Doing a spin kick, Astrid shot at the jets and the army raging towards them, but it still wasn't enough. 

"Astrid, you've got to." Thor shouted, "Now!" 

dropping her amulet, time stood still as her veins ran blue and her eyes flickered open a dark violet holding the ax of chaos. Swinging it down, she watched as the street split in half, swallowing the army whole. 

 "For... The... Avengers..." she dropped to her knees, as her eyes closed shut. 

"We won..." 

"You guys ever tried shawarma..." 

Sitting around, the Avengers were quiet the city in complete shambles, as the news played in the background, a silent lunch until, 

"THOR, SON OF ODIN, WHAT IN ODIN'S BEARD HAPPENED TO MY SISTER!"

"Isabasia!" 

[cyclone-rachel]

i loved you yesterday || a wandavision fic

AO3 link

~

Vision came into consciousness- awoke- into this world loving her.

Loving Wanda- his wife, even if he can’t remember when they got married, or what they were wearing, how the proposal went.

He’s not even sure who proposed, or what their vows were, or how they made the decision to move to Westview, New Jersey.

(It’s supposed to be on purpose, isn’t it? They are an unusual couple- that was never in question. It feels right, acting out this role with her. They were meant to be together, meant to be here, and even more so recently, he wants to focus on the future.)

But when he’s looked at her, he’s thought that none of it matters. He’s there with her, and now with their children- and though he can’t remember how that happened either, he loves them too.

He still loves them, of course. Even with their rapid aging, he’s getting to know them, and learns more with each passing day.

(And what is loving someone if not truly knowing them, especially for someone who is incapable of forgetting anything?)

Wanda... she is a different story.

With her, he is at a disadvantage, in the way that anyone is- she has always been able to read him. It’s one of his favorite things about her, that she can understand people with such ease. And with him especially, when few people even try (and for obvious reasons at the moment, he can’t let them) ... it’s no surprise that he stays close to the only one he knows who really can.

But he cannot, as much as he’d like to (with her consent) read her mind, or gain access to her emotions. Their connection has become one-sided, at best.

Which is what frustrates him so, when they aren’t on the same page… and, given what he’s recently discovered, that happens to be much of the time- the disagreements bubbling right below the surface, cracks in their foundation as though the ground beneath their home will split open and take their new life with it once the two of them reach a breaking point. Something may erupt between them, and soon- he only hopes that their children won’t be among the casualties.

It never used to be a disadvantage for the two of them. They were always so in-sync, of the same mind, and no matter what happened before Westview, he believes that such was the case back then, too. And he wants to trust Wanda, when she says that she doesn’t know what’s happening, that even with her incredible powers she’s not truly in control of all of this.

He isn’t sure of what his original programming was, who created him and gave life to his systems. But he is certain- he cannot be selfish, and lose himself in his new role as a father, or put so much faith in his wife that he ignores those who are suffering around him. He has to, as unnatural as it feels, ignore the statistics telling him that Wanda is most likely telling the truth, at least until everyone else is safe.

(How long has it been, really? How long has Norm, for example, been here, connection severed from his family? Is his name truly Norm? What of Agnes, or Herb, or anyone else he’s interacted with in this town?

What of Geraldine, and her seeming disappearance from this world altogether?)

He knows that Norm was not specific, when he mentioned a “she” who was in his head. That, coupled with Wanda’s denial, could point to someone else being in true control- but then again, didn’t he seem to trust that only Vision himself could stop whoever this was? Hasn’t Wanda told him (he assumed colloquially, but…) that she had everything under control, and merely asked if she couldn’t when he told her she couldn’t control him like the others? Hadn’t she said that they didn’t need to leave, when he brought up the possibility? Wasn’t she about to dismiss his fears, make another choice for him that he didn’t ask for or have a say in, before they were interrupted?

Isn’t she the one who this “anomaly” is named for, from the perspective of those on the outside?

It’s easy enough to excuse himself, from the Halloween festivities. Especially with the re-introduction of Pietro- he and Wanda take the children, and he sets off alone, in the costume Wanda chose for him. He sees less and less movement as he goes- repetitive motion, stilted speech, those affected acting as though they are caught in a time loop, unable to be set free. And eventually, they don’t move at all.

He could release them- but it would just be worse, inciting even more panic, until he can figure all of this out, and reach those who sent the email to his office.

(S.W.O.R.D.

Doctor Darcy Lewis.

Words he should know; concepts he should be aware of… but it’s the idea of Maximoff’s Anomaly that makes him forge forward)

Vision sheds his costume (he didn’t want to wear it anyway, he feels as though he is wearing a costume every moment outside of his house regardless), and floats above the town wearing his true face, gazing down upon it all. The wind is… well, there is no point in describing it if it’s hardly there to begin with. There are lights, and sounds, but they seem to be clustered in one part of the town, and both are scattered around beyond it, only appearing sporadically once they reach the outskirts, eventually dying out.

There’s one road, that seems to encircle the town- and a car stopped right before it, that he stops to focus on. Vision lands quietly, not bothering to put his costume back on, before seeing that Agnes is the car’s sole occupant, dressed in a witch costume, her hair streaked with silver.

He talks to her. She seems to be more capable of speech than the others- perhaps because, in Wanda’s eyes, she is a major character, regardless of how far away she is. But she doesn’t look at him, and seems like she doesn’t know him… until he touches her head, using the same action he unknowingly performed to unlock Norm’s true personality.

She calls him one of the Avengers.

(noun: a person who takes revenge for an offense, a person who takes revenge on behalf of someone else.)

(He’s not sure what he did before to receive such a distinction, but from the context, he takes the name to be associated with heroism, and helping people. There are others like him- are they looking for him? Do they wait for him outside the boundary?

Was Wanda an Avenger too? Was that how they fell in love?)

She knows him- Agnes, if that is her real name, takes his hands and asks him if he’s there to help them.

Of course I am. Of course I will- I was already planning on it.

And I hope Wanda will, too.

She wonders why he doesn’t know… and then tells him he’s dead.

He wants to argue- but she sounds so insistent, and keeps repeating the word, perhaps so it will sink into him and stay there, among his essential systems. So he takes it, takes her telling him that Wanda won’t let anyone think about leaving, takes her laughter, until he puts her back under, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

She doesn’t notice. She doesn’t act like she’s looking at anyone out of the ordinary, as she wishes him a happy Halloween, and turns around- goes back to a place without dead Avengers or nearly immobile neighbors.

Then it’s him alone, at the corner of Rolling Hill Drive and Ellis Avenue, the stop sign below the street distinctions looking more like a warning than ever.

But still he walks forward, across the street, into what appears to be a field before him- until the air flickers before him, glowing brighter blue as he approaches. It seems to be a tightly-knit grid, or like static, red and green and blue, continuing to warp and flicker as he gets closer.

The part of the boundary before him seems to look like a door- or perhaps that is an illusion, what he wants to see, to convince him that this is the right decision.

(he doesn't need convincing)

But nonetheless, he places one hand against it, then the other…

And when he emerges, he’s aware of a red glow behind him. He takes one step, two, three- the boundary seems to hold onto his cape, he can’t quite pull it out all the way- and with each step there is more pain.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts-

Focus. What do you see?

Cars. People. Lights.

Military?

They are all looking at me.

They are pointing their guns in my direction.

Someone is speaking.

“He really does want out, doesn’t he?”

It feels like he is straining against a magnet, one more powerful than he can imagine, as he falls to his knees- a part of him flies off, and he doesn’t care about retrieving it. He’s not even sure what part is gone. He suspects it doesn't matter.

A woman’s voice.

“Stop! He’s coming apart!”

None of them, besides her, are moving either, as he grits what humans would consider teeth, and tries his hardest not to scream, mind too overcome by hurt to think.

Another voice, but this time in his head.

Don’t worry, Dad. It’s all right.

Billy, he thinks, holds onto the memories of his sons as he continues to lose himself. He may die here, trying to talk to the outside, letting himself fall apart so nobody else can, but for them, for everyone else…

They’re worth it.

The woman on the outside is handcuffed to a truck.

“Help him!”

That’s right. But I don’t need it as much.

“Help!” he manages, hoping they can hear him- hoping they care. “The people need help!”

He’s reaching out to them, wants them to understand that he comes in peace.

(if they know him, and understand he's an Avenger, they will. But then again, they may not be so receptive to a message from a ghost.)

But his hand is coming apart, more of him is falling away. Soon, unless Billy or Wanda get to him in time, there won’t be anything left to save.

He can’t stand anymore. He lies on the ground, feeling as though his body is burning, thinking of his children.

Hold on, Vis.

Wanda.

But she’s not beside him- instead, he feels the barrier around him, encroaching on the world he has found himself in.

Then, suddenly, he’s back inside Westview.

He’s intact, and whole- Wanda has healed him.

But, he notes as he finds himself surrounded by a circus, she has also brought in new inhabitants- and he’s not sure how this will affect her, or how much longer she can keep Westview under her sway.

(How long will she be able to keep him, or their children?)

He doesn’t know if his message will get out. Doesn’t know if he wants to remember what happened to him on the outside as an Avenger, or how he died.

~

He doesn’t want to go home that night.

[zodiyack]

Phantom Of The Opera

Requested by anon: Just wanna say that you're my favorite writer on Tumblr! ❤️ I have a strange request. Could you make one Thomas ShelbyxReader based on The Phantom of the Opera? The reader performs in a fancy theater and a man, the theater's ghost, is obsessed with her. And the Peaky Blinders have to wait for the performance to catch him 'cause he's a freaking ghost (Point of No Return scene) I don't know if you ever watched The Phantom of the Opera, but I can send you another message with more info if you want

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of stalking, smoking and alcohol, fluff, angst, mention of murder(?), slightly straying? idk man

Note: I’ve never seen the movie, so I’m not gonna be completely accurate, but it’s not supposed to be EXACTLY the movie, so I guess that’s okay? I hope you guys like it! Also.. don’t mind the singing parts... 😅 

so basically, it’s like the movie but there are MAJOR differences... oops

Special addition to the note!: I had some help!! Thank you so much @jenepleurepasbaby​ for the ideas as well as information from the movie, I can’t thank you enough!

Word count: 3,000+

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee

masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist

She adjusted her hair as the director dismissed everyone. Their practice was now cut short, dark coming closer and closer. Arthur was her ride, yet he lie asleep, and possibly drunk, in one of the seats. Y/n sighed, grabbing bunches of her large white dress. Her friends bid her goodnight as they walked out of the building, leaving Y/n and her lover’s unconscious brother alone and in silence.

Y/n was unsure of her part. Although they just practiced, she felt the need to go over a bit more. Arthur managed to sleep through the entire rehearsal, so who’s to say he wouldn’t sleep through her singing? She would need to wake him up anyway. So she sang, went over her parts, fell into the melody.

That was, until she heard it.

Until she heard him.

The rough organ, the voice. They clicked into her brain, her voice slipping and dropping silent. It took her by surprise. Though she stopped, the voice kept singing. He sounded beautiful, elegant, more perfect for the singing role of her on stage lover than the singing partner selected for said role was.

“Sir?” No response came to Y/n, but the man continued singing. She looked around, checking on Arthur in his intoxicated yet peaceful state, and then starting her mission. She wished to find the voice, so she followed it.

The louder it got, the bigger the pit in her stomach grew. It was a pit of nothing but fear and worry. She didn’t have Tommy with her, and Arthur was asleep, she knew she would need to be careful. Her hand wandered down to her side. Under the thick fabric of her gown, holster from Polly made specifically to hide on her garter clips, was a small gun.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released itself from her mouth, relief at the feeling of the cold metal. She hoped she would have no need to use it, but it was good to be cautious.

His singing was now echoing through the hall, signing his presence. Y/n turned and gasped slightly out of shock. She let her eyes study the figure in front of her, the white mask that donned the side of his face, his slicked back hair, the way his voice sounded...

It was almost like his voice was magic. Her eyes gleamed with an entranced look, like she wasn’t fully there.

His free hand reached for hers and before she could top herself, she slipped her palm into his. He stopped singing, leading her through the theater to wherever he was to take her. She couldn’t stop herself, it was hard enough to even thinking in her own voice with his angelic voice.

Now that she heard him in person, she realized she’d heard him many times before. She’d heard him in her dreams, the same voice haunting her, no matter it’s beauty. He called for her, summoning her to a place she had no knowledge of. 

The stories of the theater dubbed him the Phantom of the Opera, the ghost who would kill those who refused to do his bidding. 

“Reminds me of a certain family.” She remembered telling the story to Tommy and the other Peaky Blinders, referencing their work with teasing smile.

His voice summoned her ever since the first performance she’d ever done at this very theater, a man standing on the rafters and observing her rather intensely. However, she was not the one to spot him that time, instead a backstage worker. He pointed out the man, but Arthur assumed he was just drunk and told Y/n to just ignore it.

Oh how wrong he was.

The half-masked man seemed to have such a power, casting a spell on her and removing logic from her mind. Her face lit up by the torch in his hand as he led her down a staircase. A horse waited down

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet.” He lifted her onto the horse and guided the dark steed down a ramp-like walkway. “And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera, is there inside your mind.”

He helped Y/n off the horse, held her hand as he helped her into the small row boat. He rowed through the water, closer and closer to his lair. She didn’t know why, but she felt the urge to join in. Was it his spell? Making her feel this way?

“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear.” It was definitely him. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever sing something like this, aside from her performances. “I am the mask you wear,”

“It’s my voice they hear.” He continued to sing as she transferred to the operatic vocalizing. The masked Phantom encouraged her, stopping his song and listening to her breathtaking voice. “Sing, my angel of music!”

“Sing my angel...Sing for me!” She grew louder the closer they got, the grate lifting and allowing them entry to his underground lair. “Sing my angel! Sing for me!!” Y/n hit her final high note, cutting herself off as they came to a stop. The candles, which had risen from the foggy waters, were just now being processed with mild confusion. The events prior to her arrival in his hideaway were catching up to her, equally as mysterious.

“Listen my dear. Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” The Phantom held her hand, helping her out of the boat.

“The organ, of course. I’ve played it for you, in hopes that you’d listen and find your way to me. And that, you did.”

“You were... playing it... for me?” Y/n raised her eyebrows curiously. He nodded, walking over and playing a few notes to the song she had been rehearsing before she wounded up in his secret home. “W-Why?”

“What better way to prove my love for you?”

Her mind gave itself a slap to the face, returning herself to full consciousness, the hypnotic state the Phantom had her in was nowhere to be found. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem? I’m simply stating my admiration for you. My undying heart, it beats only for you, and your marvelous voice. That man, the one who sent the other with you, he has no love for you. His heart holds no care nor affection for you. Alas, that is one thing he and I do not have in common.” The Phantom’s lips curled into a smile, a child-like innocence that could’ve tricked Y/n’s back into her trance.

But it didn’t. She pushed him away from her, making sure to not be too rough. “Why!? Why would you say such a thing!? You trick me into following you, just to reveal you wanted to rid me of my lover?”

“No, not just that-”

“Have you lost your mind?! I’m sorry, I can’t. It was a pleasure meeting you, dear Phantom, but I’m afraid I simply cannot except any offers you have. Your love is flattering, but my heart belongs to the one who actually does love me back.” Her hands gripped her dress again, pulling it up enough for her to move back to the row boat.

However, she couldn’t make it to the small boat on time. He grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him, forcing her to face him. “Please, Y/n, just let me prov-”

“How do you know my name?” A silence split between the two. He didn’t answer her question. She looked up at him slowly, curiosity overtaking her. He was distracted, unaware, it as the perfect time to strike. She reached for his mask, snatching it, but being pushed to the ground before she could see his face.

He growled, covering the side with his hand, screaming insults at her as she remained on the ground with wide eyes. She was too shocked to move. The push managed to take the breath from her lungs, resulting in small coughs when she tried to stand up.

“I- I’m sorry.” She reached for his cheek, the action startling him. He stumbled backwards, he reached forwards slowly when she held out his mask, ripping it from her hands. “Please, could you take me back to the theater?”

He didn’t respond. His own way of saying no.

“I’ll... um... I’ll be going then.”

He didn’t stop her. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Besides, she had a performance coming up, did she not?

. . .

“Y/n has called a family meeting!” Arthur stomped over to his chair, sitting and crossing his arms as he waited for the rest of his family.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, Pol, I’m fine...”

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yesterday. Theater. Stalker. Tell them, Y/n.”

The family’s eyes shifted from Y/n to Arthur, then back to Y/n after he finished his sentence. “Fine. There was...a man... Um... Remember the ‘drunken man’ from my first performance?”

Everyone nodded. Esme stepped in, receiving a short glance from John, “What happened? Did your stalker try to kill you or something?”

“No no no, he wouldn’t do that.” The calmed family turned to Y/n with concern and confusion. Y/n looked at each one of them, anticipating their reactions. More specifically, Tommy’s. Jealousy and anger surged throughout his body, and somehow, everyone could tell. Jumping out of her chair, she walked over to him and pecked his lips reassuringly, “No, I’m not in love with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Alright alright, Tommy, stop being jealous, Y/n, we must be getting back to the point. Please explain what this meeting is for?”

“Ah yes,” She sat back down. “He um... well he took me somewhere. It was like..under the theater? I sang with him... he called me his ‘angel of music’, and he said my name...”

“What else did he do?” Tommy’s jaw clenched.

“He wouldn’t take me back, so I went back myself. He um... well he did do um.. something...”

Arthur slammed his cup onto the table, standing up quickly, ignoring the wide eyed glares from Linda and Polly. “Oh get bloody on with it! It’s not like you slept with him or something!”

“Damn it Arthur! Could you please just give her some fucking time!?”

“T-thank you, Pol... but Arthur’s right. The man... he... confessed.”

Lizzie was the one to react first this time. She seemed mentally absent from the conversation until the confession had been mentioned, her jaw dropping and eyes popping. “Confessed what?”

“His love. For- for me. I left at that point. He tried to tell me Tommy didn’t love me, but no words from anyone could ever make me believe that. It felt like he put me into some from of trance until then, which I snapped myself out of once he brought up love.”

Tommy started for the door, gun in hand, but was stopped by Y/n. “Please, just... just leave this be... let the coppers handle it, it’ll be alright.”

“Alright? Alright? All-fucking-right?” the blue eyed man pointed to the door, the veins in his hands were bulging. “Out there is a man who is stalking you, obsessing over you, and possibly targeting me so he can take you. And you’re gonna tell me it’ll be ‘alright’?”

“Tom... to be fair, you are being a little ov-”

“Ada, don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence. Tommy’s right.” If looks could kill, Arthur would be long gone by now. “When it first happened, she asked us to wait until it happened more, then it did. But she still didn’t want us to do anything. This time she had an in-person encounter with the creep, and she wants us to wait for coppers?”

He turned to Y/n, “Arthur’s correct. We waited, just as you asked, and now, it’s extreme. Please...” He returned his gun to it’s holster, taking her face in his hands, “let us deal with this.”

“I-” Her e/c orbs glanced around the room, zooming from person to person before giving in and locking eyes with the man in front of her and relaxing into his touch. “Okay... just, don’t hurt him. He seemed so... alone.”

“We can’t promise anything, but we’ll try our best. We’ll all come to the show, and we’ll be your protection, alright?” She nodded and kissed him back as he pressed his lips to hers softly. “Now, let’s get home.”

“Thank you everyone... I’m sorry about-”

“No.” Y/n’s head snapped up, quirking an eyebrow to Polly’s interruption. “Don’t be sorry. It’s gonna be okay. Get some rest, you have quite a performance to prepare for.” With that, she winked and smiled, waving goodbye to Y/n and Tommy as they exited the Betting Shop. She was right. They had a big day tomorrow, and there was no time for messing around.

. . .

As she sang, her eyes were focused on the audience, darting around in search for her lover and his family. The Peaky Blinders weren’t that hard to miss, but they soon became so when The Phantom entered onto the stage where her partner should’ve. She noticed quite quickly, the difference in vocal ranges, the height and figure differences. She would be lying if she were to say she didn’t feel even the slightest bit of fear.

Their voices danced together, the trance returning to her, her body and mind betraying her. The Phantom walked closer, lust filled his eyes, the trance-like-state forcing the same into hers. Tommy, in his seat, gripped his gun. Patience escaped him, replaced with burning jealousy and rage.

“When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last, consume us?”

They began towards each other. Arthur nudged Tommy’s shoulder, gesturing to some of the cast peaking from behind the curtain, obviously puzzled with Y/n’s singing partner. All the proof they needed that he was the man they were watching for.

Their voices joined, “Past the point of no return! The final threshold!” Tommy’s hold on his weapon grew tighter as Y/n and The Phantom closed the distance between their bodies. The stranger spun Y/n around and wrapped his arms around her stomach, his hands over hers. “The bridge is crossed, so stand, and watch it burn...”

Like a bull to a red flag, the sight of The Phantom’s wandering right hand traveling up Y/n’s chest and to her neck brought darkness to his eyes. “We've passed the point, of no return...”

Although the song was due to end there, The Phantom had other plans.

Y/n’s eyes opened as The Phantom’s voice continued. She was waking herself up, realizing her state and snapping out of it.

“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... Lead me, save me, from my solitude... Say you want me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go, let me go too -  Y/n, That's all I ask of-”

He was interrupted by the screams of the audience. Y/n did what she needed to do. She had pulled the black mask free of his face, revealing to the audience just who he really was. Thomas took the screams as his cue and pulled his gun from it’s holster. He didn’t move, instead, he waited for a sign that would tell him that it was necessary. He preferred Y/n get out of this alive.

She looked to the Phantom with sorry emotion, genuine sympathy and hurt in her e/c orbs. The Phantom returned her reaction. He couldn’t be mad at her, but that wouldn’t stop him from having her.

Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed the coppers racing to the stage, pushing past people. He immediately grabbed hold of Y/n’s waist, as tight as he could, and cut the string to the enormous chandelier.

Tommy jumped up, alerting his family, directing each person to move out of the way. He froze, watching Y/n and The Phantom fall from the bridge, and into the ground. Tommy surged forward, leaning over the railing and screaming in agony, forced to watch the stalker escape through a hole in the ground with the love of his life. Polly, Michael, and Arthur grabbed Tommy, trying to pull him back. Even Pol had tears in her eyes.

It was never meant to go this way.

When did everything go so wrong?

What did they mess up?

. . .

The three brothers found their way through waters, ending up in The Phantom’s lair. Tommy’s eyes widened. Y/n, face covered in tears, mouth shivering, frozen in fear, stood there, next to The Phantom, in a wedding dress. She looked gorgeous, but Tommy couldn’t let that distract him.

“What the f-”

Arthur slapped a hand over John’s mouth, quieting him before they could be caught by the pair. He looked over to his other brother, scanning the look of worry on his face. His other hand rubbed his brother’s arm comfortingly.

“Pity comes too late,” The Phantom placed a veil on Y/n’s head, “turn around and face your fate! And eternity of this!-” he pointed to the scared side of his face, “before your eyes...” He calmed himself by looking into her eyes. Erik, the Phantom, placed a ring into Y/n’s hand.

Y/n walked to a covered mirror, taking off the veil as she walked. “This haunted face,” She tore down the cover, turning to Erik. It was clear that they were no longer strangers. “Holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul; that the true distortion lies...”

John snorted a little, finding humor in the fact that they were still singing, but quickly shut up when Erik turned his head towards the noise. It was too late, far far far too late. He smirked mischievously.

“Wait, my dear, I think we have some guests!” He switched from singing to talking.

Her eyes followed his gaze, spotting Tommy, John, and Arthur. “Tommy!” She moved forward. Tommy mirrored her and pressed himself against the portcullis.

“Sir. Or shall I say, sirs. This is indeed, an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you,” he made eye contact with Tommy, “that you would come!” Erik walked down the steps, next to Y/n. “And now, my wish comes true.” He pulled Y/n into her side. Tommy flinched upon hearing and seeing Y/n’s panic caused by Erik’s actions. “You have truly made my night.”

“Let me go-”

Everything broke from Tommy’s head. It was purely in the moment. For once he was acting with his heart, rather than his brain. “Free her!” Y/n stopped and looked to him with confusion, opposite to Erik’s looks of amusement. “Do to me whatever you would like, but please! Free her!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.”

“Please- Tommy... it’s useless...”

“Tom! She’s right, we can’t do anything with this stupid thing in the way.” Arthur grumbled.

“I love her!” He was speaking to everyone. From the heart. “Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion-”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” The brothers and Y/n faced Erik, small signs of empathy for the red and ruined side of his face.

“Y/n. Y/n, let me see her. Let me fucking see her!” Tommy kicked the portcullis harshly, showing his demand was not to be taken as a joke.

“Be my guest, sir.” Erik smirked wider and walked to a lever. He pulled it and the portcullis began moving upwards. Before he could say more, Tommy fired random shots. He could careless if he hit The Phantom or missed, his mission was to get Y/n and then skedaddle the fuck out of there.

John and Arthur exchanged glances and nods, joining Tommy in open fire towards the man.

Tommy reached Y/n, pausing and pressing a kiss to her soft lips, closing his eyes and melting into their short kiss. After the separated, he picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other somewhere above her waist. He nodded to her. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

“John! Arthur! Cease fire! I repeat! Cease fire!”

Erik chuckled madly, “Aren’t you going to finish me?” He looked at Arthur, then his gun. “Kill me!”

Arthur raised his gun. Aimed. Inhaled.

“Stop! Don’t kill him! Let him be... please...” Y/n faced Tommy with watery eyes, “let me down for a second, please.” Thomas hesitated, but followed the orders of his significant other. She kissed him once more, then walked to Erik and shooed the brothers away from him.

“W-what’re you doing!? Y/n! T-Tom, she’s gonna get hers-”

“Leave it Arthur. Y/n knows what she’s doing. I hope.” Tommy mumbled the last sentence under his breath.

They watched as Y/n caressed the cheek of the scared side to Erik’s face, her face scrunching with visible focus. She pulled him down to her, rested her forehead against his and whispered to him.

“Angel of music... thank you for this journey... Alas, twasn’t I that was destined to join you on it.” John shouted for her to hurry, the sound of the coppers growing near. “Run, dear Phantom, run and don’t ever look back. One day the world will except you...you just can’t force it.” 

Y/n reached for his hand, opening it and placing his ring in it, then folding it shut, just as he did to her hand. He smiled at her. He finally surrendered.

Tommy walked up to them, causing Erik to move back a bit. Tom stopped in front of the man and handed him a large amount of money, smiling with a heart full of sympathy. “Run, Phantom. As far as the coppers know, you’re dead. My uncle will have a boat, board it if you’d like. Start a new life.” 

The Phantom nodded, taking the money. But. He paused. “Go. Be free, my Angel of Music. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and care, and I thank you for that.” The unfamiliar voices neared. Erik’s eyes widened, “Hurry! Leave! Go!”

Tommy grabbed Y/n, pulling her with him as they headed into the water and tried to ran through it. Y/n turned her head, giving Erik one last look, giving him one last nod, and smiling to him for the last time. They ran out the burning theater, Moss interviewed her, writers for news companies chased after her, but everyone was shooed away by her family.

At home, Tommy cradled Y/n’s cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. “I thought I lost you...”

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” She leaned forward, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you... I love you so much Tommy.”

Tommy closed the cap between them, staying for a few minutes. Peaceful. Quiet. Still in his suit and her in the wedding gown she was forced into. “I love you too, Y/n. Very much... Maybe this dress could do some use for us. Eh?”

[fyexo]

200915 Lay Zhang Is Aiming To Bring Chinese Music To The World

It’s been a few years now since Lay Zhang (also known as Zhang Yixing) released his debut EP Lose Control in 2016. Already a prominent star throughout Asia after debuting as part of K-pop boy band EXO back in 2012 and becoming a prominent television personality in China, Zhang – who is usually known mononymously as Lay – started down a path that year that would turn him into one of the biggest musical players in Asia less than half a decade later: in 2018, he broke onto the U.S. Billboard 200 album chart with his album Namanana, and this year he ranked No. 5 on Forbes China’s Celebrity 100 ranking.

This year, Lay dropped the duality of his Lit LP, split between two parts that arrived in June and July. A multifaceted release that spends its length blending modern musical styles with traditionally Chinese performance elements, Lay’s latest puts the emphasis on his roots. It extensively draws from classical styles and storytelling influences as he attempts to bring China to the world, as he says in the single “Lit” and relays through that song’s highly cinematic music video that sees Lay as a warrior facing down enemies amid a grandiose historic setting, inspired by the legendary general Xiang Yu.

The title track, and the album as a whole, is Lay’s attempt at expressing what he calls “M-pop,” or mixed Mandarin pop music, a genre he’s spearheading with the aim of bringing Chinese culture to global – primarily western – music listeners. Coming at a time when the world is more divided than ever, and China and the U.S.’s trade war continues, it may seem like a lofty aim. But Lay, although he shies away from discussing political ramifications on culture during a conversation with Forbes, has hope that bringing multi-cultural influences together will create greater understandings between one another and different cultures, as long as we take the time to listen to one another. Or, in his case, M-pop.

Tamar Herman: You released the long version of Lit in July, and saw much love for its blending of traditionally Chinese and modern musical elements. What was the inspiration overall for this album?

Lay: I just want to share Chinese culture, so I’m trying my best. Because I’m Chinese and I learn a lot from China, I think our country has a lot of good culture and good traditional instruments that maybe people don’t know. I want to promote that part, and let people know the very dope Chinese culture.

The sound of [the word] “lit” is very close to the Chinese word for “lotus.” I want people to know they can become what they want to be, no matter where they started, like a lotus flower that begins in the root and become beautiful flowers. I was also inspired by the cycle of life and wanted to have a Chinese perspective on it, so the first part of the album is more about the past and [tells] Chinese stories, using more traditional instruments. The second part, about the present and the things we deal with now, has more modern sounds and I worked with great producers like Scott [Storch] and Murda Beatz. Learning [and working with them] so I can mix different cultures on one track, for me it’s amazing work.  

Herman: You released an epic music video for “Lit” as the album’s first lead track, and you’re back again on Sept. 14 with a remix of “Boom” by Dutch-Moroccan DJ R3hab, which you previously released as a single. What about these two songs make them your perfect pairing for listeners to get drawn into your Lit album?

Lay: For “Boom,” I want everyone just to jump and forget. This year is really terrible, right? I want people to forget the bad things and ignore the bad things. Just make happy vibes themselves.

For the second half of the album, my original intention was to have “Changsha” to be the single. However, during the course of the release cycle, “Boom” was selected instead because it really represented a little more what’s relevant to this current climate that covid has brought to the world. I wanted to focus more on that.  I want everyone just to jump and forget. Putting aside the negativity of this year and focusing on positivity.

Herman: How did your creative process differ between Lit and prior releases?

Lay: If I play a video game, my level just goes up and up, right? So I want every year to go to the next level, ever year get better.

Herman: What type of video game character would you like to be?

I’m a warrior. If I can have the opportunity to go to another country, I’ll join the battle with [krumping originator] Tight Eyez (Ceasare "Tight Eyez" Willis).

Herman: Speaking of... I asked fans if they had any questions on Twitter. And while there were many great suggestions, I was surprised by how many wanted to know about your love of krumping. What about this form of dance is appealing to you and made you want to highlight it through “Lit”?

Lay: “Lit” has a very slow tempo. I just found jazz, hip-hop, etc. choreo didn’t match this song. Krump matched this song, so I tried to learn the [style]. In the beginning, it was very hard to do. I couldn’t copy the teacher, the motion, the action. I wanted to know why. The teacher was like, “You have to spend time in this kind of dance, then you can change.” I tried very hard to practice the feeling and vibe. I took maybe three months, and I’m just the beginning of krumping like a teenager. Level three in a game, maybe.

Herman: In “Lit” you say you are taking China to the world, and you’ve been talking a lot recently about how you’d like to spearhead M-Pop’s growth internationally. What do you hope to achieve?

Lay: I think Mandarin can mix with other countries’ languages to become one song, so that everyone can feel a Chinese vibe whether it’s English, French, Korean. It does not matter, I just want to mix a lot of languages, to create one track or music. If people can guess what English [songs] are talking about, they can guess what Chinese [songs] are talking about. It’s very easy to understand songs. The influence that I want to have isn’t about ranks or charts, but spreading Chinese culture to the world.

Herman: Typically, Chinese popular music is known in English as “C-pop,” with variant categories like Cantopop and Mandopop. Why do you feel it’s time to reframe the conversation as “M-pop”?

Lay: Because I think we need to mix something. It’s a global world. Also, I want music arrangements to have Chinese traditional instruments and other countries’ [instruments] put together. Traditional Chinese instruments, it’s better to use one style of instrument itself not with others. It’s a very unique sound, but you can [blend it with others] to make a new vibe.

Herman: You’ve been a top star in both the K-pop and Chinese music industries. K-pop’s having a moment in the west right now, how do you feel about M-pop’s potential?

Lay: Everybody, even me with “Namanana,” we just mix the languages, English with Chinese. But it’s basic, right? I think now M-pop has to change rules. From Lit, I saw the potential that we can reframe M-pop to another level. Let people know that it’s not just language mixing but culture mixing, instrument mixing, genre mixing. Letting people know that we have distinct instruments and unique sounds in China. I think there’s a potential to take M-pop to another level. I want to tell people, “This is Chinese music.”

Herman: You’ve been performing for many years now. How do you feel your approach to your artistry and performances have changed overtime? What have you realized is important to your craft?

Lay: For me, first of all, I think it’s all about music. If I can’t find the right music, I can’t make the performances very dope. Secondly, I think practice is very important. Practice is important if you want to make an amazing, perfect stage. So you have to spend the time practicing dancing and singing. Thirdly, I really respect my staff. Because we have these guys, they can make the stages, lights, speakers, and things for performers. Also, fans. Fans are very important. Without these four things I can do nothing.

Herman: This year’s hard on a lot of people. What makes you happy or hopeful in rough times? Any advice for people?

Lay: 2020 was terrible. But we have to trust tomorrow will be good. We have a very good tomorrow, a good future. So don’t lose confidence, don’t lose happiness. Don’t forget your dreams. Chase your dreams and be happy. And spend time with your family. If you want, you can get anything.

This interview was conducted in English and Mandarin, and edited for clarity.

source: Tamar Herman @ Forbes

[callmeblake]

Frank Iero, New York, NY, June 2019 (X)

Aug 29, 2019, 09:10am

Frank Iero May Just Be His Own Puppet Master

Photo Credit: Audrey Lew

Interview below the cut

Derek Scancarelli

Contributor

Hollywood & Entertainment

I am a music journalist living in New York City.

Frank Iero is breathing deeply and fighting off nausea. This isn’t uncommon for the 37-year-old guitarist and vocalist, given his predilection for debilitating anxiety. But on this occasion, it isn���t pre-show jitters.

“Oh my god, I hate this f*cking boat,” Iero says, as the docked vessel on which he sits knocks against a pier in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Iero and his band, The Future Violents, just finished an intimate Saturday matinee show as fans sweat, sang and caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.

It had been about 16 years since Iero and his now defunct band, My Chemical Romance (the band broke up in 2013), first performed on water. In July of 2002, the band released its debut album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. In October of 2003, the soon-to-be emo heroes performed alongside New York Hardcore legends Sick Of It All at an aquatic gig booked by New Jersey college radio station WSOU. And in June of 2004, My Chemical Romance released Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, the band’s platinum-selling breakthrough record. In a matter of two years, Iero’s life changed dramatically.

In 2019, Iero still hasn’t found his sea legs, but a lot more has changed. He’s fathered three children, released three full-length solo records (including 2019’s Barriers), and survived a near-death experience. And as he gets older, he finds truth in life’s greatest clichés.

“Time flies, it just screams by,” Iero says. “You think you’re appreciating the time, but it’s easy to take it for granted. It’s a shame.”

But Iero is trying his hardest to pay attention to the little things, especially when it comes to family. He and his wife, Jamia, have three children together: nine-year-old twin daughters, Cherry and Lily, and a seven-year-old son named Miles.

“It’s wonderful to see them evolve and come into their own,” Iero says. “But it’s funny how personalities are innate. We shape the way they experience things or teach them the ropes, but for the most part, I’ve found that we are who we are when we’re born.”

From the start, Iero has seen an even split in the twins’ personalities. Cherry, he says, most behaves like her mother, whereas Lily possesses her father’s attitude.

“Some of the sh*t I hear coming out of my daughter's mouth,” Iero says laughing. “My God! It’s stuff I think but never say — they don't know to be ashamed yet! It's amazing and honest and pure. And I know exactly where she's coming from because I feel the same way.”

As part of fostering a relationship of trust and honesty, Iero has been age-appropriately transparent with his kids about the 2016 accident that almost killed him, his brother-in-law and guitarist Evan Nestor and his manager Paul Clegg.

While unloading gear from their van in Sydney, Australia, a city bus crashed into the group and their vehicle. In a 2017 interview with MTV, Iero recounted, in vivid detail, the moment he was dragged underneath the bumper of the bus, the screams of his brother-in-law, and the blood pooling from his manager.

Although Iero was able to walk into an ambulance carrying one of his friends, the scene was a spectacle overrun with emergency personnel — they even landed a rescue helicopter in nearby Hyde Park. Despite serious injuries, amazingly, there were no fatalities.

When Iero returned home from the hospital, he explained to his children that he was in a car accident, but that it was a singular freak incident.

“You don't want to lie,” he says. “They're getting older. Their friends and their parents are on the internet. They're asking questions. It does get back to them.”

Iero was as honest as possible, but avoided any gory details. He was also conscious that it wouldn’t be long before he would travel for work again — and he didn’t want to scare his kids any further.

Almost four years later, residual damage from the crash is impossible to ignore. Nestor has nerve damage in his leg that may never be corrected. Clegg’s leg and knee have undergone multiple surgeries, but are in poor shape. And Iero still has a tear in his shoulder that hurts every time he plays the guitar. Despite the pain, he’s afraid to undergo surgery.

“I was lucky enough to walk away and still play,” Iero says. “If I were to test fate again and go under the knife, if something were to go wrong… to let that be taken from me … no, I can't.”

On some days, the emotional toll of surviving such a traumatic accident weighs more heavily. Iero describes his recovery as non-linear: some days he feels collected and in control, other days the memory rushes back into his mind.

After his new band finished recording Barriers, Iero and his team went back to Australia for appointments pertaining to the accident and corresponding litigation. As soon as he exited the plane, Iero felt like he’d returned to the horrific scene. For the following week, he was barraged by an unending state of panic.

“You go through these instances of PTSD,” he says. “You never know what's going to trigger and send you all the way back to the beginning with recovery.”

Iero greatly underestimated how difficult his return to Australia would be. When navigating to a doctor’s office near where the accident occurred, he couldn’t bring himself to walk down the street. And suddenly, he felt surrounded by buses.

“I don't know if this is true,” he says. “But it felt like every other car on the street was one of these f*cking buses. They were everywhere. It was frightening. I couldn't do anything. I was shaking like a leaf.”

Despite the traumatic flashbacks, Iero continues to reflect on that day. In the promotional run for Barriers, he discussed the accident at length. And on the record itself, he addresses the complicated ripple effect it’s had on his entire sense of self.

“I don't think it needs to define me,” Iero says. “But it was something I needed to talk about on this record. It's not something I could sweep under the rug. But do I want to dwell on it every day and relive it? No. But I think about it constantly. I feel the pain constantly. It's on my mind.”

In recent interviews, Iero has tended to frame a few philosophical takeaways from his ordeal. In simple terms, the first idea is that he’s found a new lease on life — that everything happens for a reason and he’s been given an opportunity to seize the day. The second philosophy is much darker, a sort of survivor’s guilt compounded with fear and existential dread. The third and most abstract consideration is closest to Simulation Theory — where Iero has the ability to control his own artificial timeline.

Sometimes, Iero questions if actually died that day. He wonders: Is this all real?

“It’s hard. No one can tell you what to believe,” he says. “But you come to this realization, ‘Well, this is real to me, the hand I was dealt, so I have to make the best of it!’”

Through the acceptance of uncertainty, Iero surmises that he just may be his own puppet master.

“If this is a figment of my imagination,” Iero says. “If this is all in my head, then I am the master of my own destiny. If I want to do something, I can manufacture it. And if it's not the case, then at least it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe putting positive vibes out into the universe is beneficial. If we didn't make it and we're just going through this weird labyrinth in my mind, I can do anything I want.”

And lately, he’s been doing just that. Call it sorcery or the power of positive thinking, but Iero is motivated. For Barriers, he was able to assemble a dream band, The Future Violents (different lineups of his backing band have previously gone by The Cellabration and The Patience), featuring his brother-in-law Nestor on guitar, Thursday’s Tucker Rule on drums, Murder by Death’s Matt Armstrong on bass, and Kayleigh Goldsworthy on keyboard.

The theme of the album — and his own internal dialogue — mostly relates to tragedy and timing. Did the universe have a course set out for him? Or was he just some random victim?

“The crazy thing is that you didn't do anything wrong,” Iero says of the accident. “Yet, all of this stuff was taken from you and you have to make these decisions. You get angry a lot.”

He continues: “These random, abrupt, violent actions. Do they happen to us? Or for us? I wouldn't have been able to make this record if it didn't happen. And it made me realize a lot of things about myself. Am I happy it happened? No. But I'm happy where I am right now.”

Iero views Barriers as an exercise in vulnerability. If the aftermath of his accident taught him anything, it’s that success was meaningless to his character, but adversity helped him grow. For the first time, addressing childhood trauma helped Iero expose himself in a way that felt freeing.

“When you put something to song, it gives that memory weight,” Iero explains. “If you never talk about it, it's almost like it didn't happen. There's a fine line between relinquishing that power to this memory, situation or trauma, or holding that power over it and creating your own narrative from it.”

Barriers also intertwines Iero’s childhood experiences with his current perspective as a father. This go around, he felt comfortable writing about his parents’ divorce — the couple split when he was three and divorced when he was seven.

He looks back on the unpleasantness of the process and his consequential understanding of his mother’s issues with addiction, depression and mental illness. On his 2016 record, Parachutes, Iero first referenced his mother’s struggles and his own liability to inherit her traits. He’s still horrified by the idea of predeterminism.

“When you're a young kid being surrounded with it, it doesn't feel right,” Iero says. “You're not happy. You're scared. You're constantly concerned for your parent. It’s almost as if you become the caregiver.”

He continues: “Then you see yourself falling into these patterns that you were witness to and maybe in a roundabout way were taught. That addiction, that depression, runs through you. It's easy to fall off that cliff. I don't want that for my kids and I need to stop this cycle. Like this sh*t stops with me. Whether it be I get okay, or I f*cking turn my lights out.”

It’s this sort of tongue-in-cheek use of concerning language that keeps Iero’s fanbase enthralled, yet somewhat on edge. Take for example, in the comment section for his video “Young & Doomed,” some diehard fans are troubled by his repeated use of the words “hurt myself again.” While he’s surprised to hear about the response, he counters that the record is ultimately meant to feel uplifting and positive, even if addressing dark topics.

“I don't think that we should strive for perfection,” Iero says. “This idea that we should all have this perfect life and be pretty and purse our lips to post a picture on social media is bullsh*t. The things that make us unique are important.”

He continues: “Sometimes we're our own worst enemies and we hurt ourselves. Those scars, though, are important. They're beautiful. ‘Young And Doomed’ is a call to arms to celebrate the things people think are wrong with us.”

Now, Iero just hopes his story and music inspire fans to try, fail and try again.

“You don't find out who you are unless you get a scar and get hurt,” Iero says. “You should be hurt, hurt other people, and learn that it feels terrible to hurt someone else. You should feel sorry for it and make amends for it. These are important lessons to be a better person. You find out who you truly are by attacking things that scare you the most.”

Frank Iero is currently touring Europe with Laura Jane Grace & The Devouring Mothers.

[fumbling-fanfics]

Lewis Tan x Reader...

Prompt/Idea: Fuck her like her ex is living in the apartment downstairs.

This wasn't a request, just something me and @crushed-pink-petals chatted about. Then I started writing and I was forcing it so I forgot about it and then I saw it when I wanted to write and now I'm happy with it. So moral of the story, write what you can and leave them on ice for another date.

Warnings: Smut

**********************************************

Lewis pressed you into the couch with his body as you kissed. His mouth moved from yours, across your jaw, finding the side of your neck as he ground his hips into yours. You moaned into his ear as your hands went under his cotton t-shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, and the movements of his muscles beneath.

Your drew your nails lightly down his back under his t-shirt . He released the skin of your neck, and groaned into your neck. “Take this off.” you breathed, tugging on his shirt. His mouth released your neck, no doubt to return at a later point to finish the love bite.

In a split of a second, his shirt was gone. Then so was yours. Lewis managed to shimmy you out of your jeans. Then his jeans where gone - boxers too. You're not sure when you lost your underwear. Maybe you weren't wearing any.

Lewis always managed to make the simple moment toe curlingly intense. Which made you wetter and everything a hundred times more sexy.

He cupped the side of your face, his thumb hooking into your mouth as he balanced his weight on his elbow and forearm while his other hand disappeared down between you both.

As soon as you felt his fingers brush along your stomach - you knew what was coming, Lewis knew you knew what was coming. Your fingers trembled on the back of his neck in anticipation. Your heart pounder in your chest as you felt his hand dip between your legs. He cups you, dragging his fingers between your folds, gathering your arousal in his hand. He uses it lubricate himself, drawing his hand up and down his length from base to tip.

If you could repeat the feeling of Lewis entering you you would. It makes you stomach muscles flutter like butterflies.

He holds still to savour the feeling of being in you. How you dance around him, trying to pull him deeper.

His other hand, now finished between you both, slide under your lower back, and as he slide into you he tilted your hip upwards. It wasn't even that big of a tilt, but as usual it just has your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your fingernails scraping against the back of his head. Lewis shudders.

"You want me to stop" Lewis grinned, his hips still moving in that way that meant you couldn't catch your breath. You couldn't speak, just pulling Lewis closer to you. His stomach against yours, his chest against yours.

There was the sound of knocking on a door, but you could no longer see the TV so you weren't sure if it was the TV or actually someone at your door.

"No" For a moment you were lost in the movement of his hips and the dirty things he was whispering into your ear.

The banging on the door sounds again. Now it was obvious that the noise wasn't coming from the TV.

"The door"

"Ignore it" the banging is more impatient, obvious it's was not knuckles against the door but a palm.

"Someone is at the door. Open the door" Lewis doesn't stop immediately. He changes the angel of his thrusts watching as you fall quiet with a gasp.

"No" he grins pulling your hands from your mouth, the moan mixed with a curse shuddering out as you came.

"Good girl" he praises with a kiss on your forehead. You can't help but whimper when he pulls out, getting up off the floor. You really didn't remember being on the floor, you thought you were on the couch.

You want to get up too, cover yourself with the quilt that's under you. But your body says no.

Lewis gets up to answer the door. He knows you're mostly hidden by the couch so he doesn't need to wait for you to cover you up. He already knows exactly who's gonna be at the door.

"Hi" Lewis grins opening the door wide. Wide enough that the person can see into the apartment, but also see that Lewis is naked. Butt naked.

"Erm-" your ex quickly averts his eyes up to the hallway ceiling. It's one thing to see another man naked. It's another to see him with a hard on and naked. And a very different thing to see another man who is dating your ex naked, hard and most definitely still wet from having sex with her.

"How can I help you?“ Lewis smirks. It's the smirk that somehow doesn't get him punched in the face.

Your ex is your ex because well according to him - things change. Which in the interest of self preservation you didn't fight, you can't force someone to stay with you. But now there was a seed of doubt growing in your ex's mind as he caught Lewis' physic in the corner of his eye. Did you break up with him because he didn't look like Lewis?

Ripped was almost an understatement. He was cut and your ex suddenly wanted to know what his secret or what Men's Health routine would get him on his way to looking like Lewis.

But then everyone knew abs where made in the kitchen. So what was Lewis eating… Apart from you (and very well by the sounds of things)?

And Lewis' dick. While you're ex was not in the category of small or below average, he certainly was not packing the way Lewis was. He wanted a better look, for comparison purposes later, so risked moving his gaze from the ceiling to the floor.

Did you and your ex break up because of his size and performance? Another seed of doubt. Because when he thought about it, he didn't technically break up break up with you, it was more like a break that got out of hand, right?

And there's a tattoo down there too! Like it's the world's dumbest placed tattoo. But your ex also thinks it's the coolest tattoo, the tattoo that no doubt says 'best dick of your life' - a nice preview before the main show. Maybe he could get a tattoo down there, but then hell was also more likely to freeze over. Plus he wouldn't look cool like Lewis did.

Lewis extends a hand, in an implied 'good talk' way. "I'm Lewis. Lewis Tan" your ex doesn't know why, but he extends his hand too, shaking Lewis' hand.

Why was he shaking hands with the naked guy who was now banging (and very well by the sounds of things) his ex? He was probably gripping the hand he used on you minutes earlier.

You're ex mumbled his name, cursing himself for not saying his name with more umph. With his chest. "Cool, well we'll try and keep it down"

Try. Try. The way Lewis said try, your ex knew he wasn't going to 'try' and do anything. He'd probably just end up being louder.

"See ya" Lewis shut the door before anything else could be said.

"What did they say?" you're ex's girlfriend asks as he returns to the apartment from his failed telling off. But he didn't hear, he was too busy thinking about Lewis. And you. And we'll mainly Lewis.

"Babe! Did they say they would be quite" he snapped out of his trance.

"I think so"

"You think so, they either said yes or no!"

"Well I only spoke to Lewis"

"Whose Lewis?"

“Y/n's new boyfriend. He answered the door. Naked"

"What!“ your ex moved to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. Not out of offence, just out of the thought that he couldn't really go around with possible traces of you on his hands.

“He opened the door and he was naked. No clothes on. Just a hard on… That lasted the entire chat, it didn't move once"

In the moment of silence the muffled moans and cries of pleasure could be heard again. This time it sounded like you and Lewis had moved from the living room to the bedroom.

"Are you fucking serious" your ex's girlfriend shouts up at the ceiling, stamping a foot.

"To be fair it's not that loud. The walls are shit, remember we heard all of that Golden Girls Marathon from Ms Yeatman's apartment"

And it wasn't really. It was just while you're ex and his girlfriend ate dinner in front of the TV, they realised they probably should have picked a show that had less silent intense moments where only looks were shared between the characters. The show just wasn't the same when the moments were punctured with "Oh my god" or moans that made both blush.

You're never sure why you take the lift in your building anymore, it's painfully slow. But then again you're exhausted and are only leaving the apartment based on Lewis' promise of pancakes.

On hearing that word you threw on a pair of leggings, flip flops, a top and Lewis hoodie and stumbled into the lift.

It's only when the doors open and you see your ex that you remember the other reason you don't get the lift.

"Y/n" he mumbles. You just give him a slight acknowledging nod.

You stay where you are and let your ex take the wall furthest from you. It's not really an awkward silence, but it's not an not awkward silence. You're praying he doesn't speak.

Eventually the lift slows to a stop and the doors open slowly.

"About last night" you look at the gap and wonder if you should try and squeeze through it.

"Yeah, sorry. But don't worry, you won't have to deal with it for much longer-" the gap is wider so you chance it.

"Yep, I'm moving out" you keep a couple of steps ahead, seeing Lewis' figure outside your apartment entrance.

"What? When?" you push open the entrance door without answering. "See ya" you skip up to Lewis, trickling his sides. He spins around tackling you in hug like he hasn't seen you for a while.

"Let's go before I have to answer questions about me moving out" you whisper as you tuck yourself under Lewis' arm. "At least he didn't stare at you dick" Lewis grins. You ugly laugh.

"He did not!" you snort

"He did too"

"Well it is a nice dick" you shrug.

"Maybe you wanna look at it after pancakes" Lewis cocks his head your way, his cheeky grin accentuated by his glasses.

**********************************************

Tags: @ellixthea @lovelymari4 @chaneajoyyy

@honeychicana @beaminglife @amelatonin @themyscxiras @crushed-pink-petals @lady-olive-oil @jojolu @endless00paradise @est1887 @cajunpeach @melinda-january @profoundlynerdywolf @deathonyourtongue @designerwriterchic @itsbqueenthings @alicesfracturedmirror @joebob15274 @write-fromthe-start @islanddgal @tarashari-tfp @dc41896 @princess-evans-addict @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @islanddgal @c-cqat

[deuxjun]

Concupiscent | LTY

Title: Concupiscent Group: NCT Member: Taeyong Genre/Warning: Smut with minimal plot, kind of a gang au kind of not, dom!yong, vulgar language including dirty talk, asphyxiation, spanking, hair pulling, pet names, orgasm denial, oral (mutual)   Summary/Request: In which baby boy Taeyong decides to show his Queen just how much of a King he is when she undermines him | Or in which Taeyong’s Leo moon pops Word count: 6K+ (I’ve had this in my drafts since sept ‘18 please don’t let this flop)

The fact that the heels of your Manilos were touching the floors of downtown Seoul had already soured your mood, but having to leave your Bugatti Chiron on this grimy street, in front of a dingy, rusting club made you outright pissed.

You sauntered up to the entrance, the waves of people parting for you without a word said. The pathetic excuse of velvet rope was already moved to make way for you, your heels clicking against uneven pavement, then muffling when you entered the building and felt your heels sink into the old carpet.

Doing business here was the worst, but supposedly the most conspicuous. Every few months a brand new shitty location found for the meetings to be held. Usually you find it a waste of time, but tonight you had something to say.

“A pleasure as always.” The member in  charge of District 3, Irene, had said upon your entrance, to which you simply nodded in response and found a seat.

A server had started to come around to pour you a drink when they were intercepted. “I can do that for her.” You saw the dust of pink blushing the servers cheeks, simply because of a charming smile from a handsome man and you just had to roll your eyes. “Its her job.” Your tone was clipped, annoyed and Taeyong immediately picked up on the fact. “She’s serving you, I was under the impression that was my job.” His tone was hushed as he placed the flute of champagne in front of you, eyes cautious when they laid on you. You barely spared him a glance. “I’m looking for a king, not a servant" 

The iciness in your tone had Taeyong pausing and then retreating with a nod. Many women would be happy to have a man willing to be at their beck and call, and while you had loved it at the beginning, his recent performance proved that all of that was for nought. If he was unable to progress it would mean nothing. 

"Shall we begin?” District 7 leader Rosé asked. 

Right to business, just the way you liked it. Everyone settled into their seats and began to update the leaders of business in their respective districts. When it came round to you, you were quick to relay what you had to, but needed to voice something else too.  “I have concerns over District 8. We lost 1.3 Million worth of product. A huge loss.” As the words left your mouth Taeyong’s head shot up and the understanding of your mood was apparent in his eyes. But, there was also the beginnings of fury inking out in his dark orbs.

“That was not my-“

"I’m concerned we’ve left the district to someone too inexperienced. We even had fucking detective Jung getting cocky with us, asking for more money. This was not a small slip up and the fact that the person in charge is not taking ownership for the mistake is a weakness in his leadership. We need to re-evaluate." 

Taeyong was positively fuming, you could see the bulge of veins in his near translucent skin,how his jaw ticked under the pressure of clenched teeth. His dark gaze was burning through you and you returned his look with your own steely gaze. Business first.

"While your point is valid, I will have a private conversation regarding district 8. Moving on.” You could tell, you could feel his aura cloud over you, how he struggled to turn his eyes away from you and focus. It seems in more ways than one you affect Lee Taeyong. 

The meeting was adjourned hours later, but Taeyong was held back to speak with the main bosses. He gave one last dark look your way, before he turned away, not watching you walk out. 

The air was much cooler against your skin, the sky devoid of light above the city as you walked to your car and leant on the bonnet, waiting for Taeyong to finish. You may come off as cold and heartless, but you really did care for Taeyong. In your line of business however, mistakes like his needed to be nipped in the bud. You could only hope he understood where you were coming from. 

You spotted the deep red of his hair under a lamplight when he exited. “Tae.” His head turned hearing the familiar voice call out to him. He spared you a glance and scoffed, but then in a split second decided to approach you. He didn’t say anything, in fact he bypassed you and opened your car door. “Give me a ride home."  Now it was your turn to scoff.

Nevertheless you found yourself in your car turning on the ignition. "You can stay at mine tonight.” You didn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes on you as you sped down the highway. He leant toward you suddenly, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered. “You sure that’s a good idea, baby?” Your body betrayed you when you felt the shivers rake down your spine. 

Opting to ignore him, your foot pressed harder on the pedal and you shifted gears till you were well over the speed limit. Taeyong sitting back in his seat with a smirk as you barely managed to manoeuvre amongst other cars occupying the highway.  It was no surprise that in no time you were home.

Your heels were neatly placed by the front door for you to put in their proper place tomorrow. You began to make your way toward the staircase when you felt the gentle weight of Taeyong’s hand on your wrist. His hand had left the door as he shut it, while his other remained on you. He released a sigh of discontent and stepped closer to you, hand slipping from your wrist so that his arms could slither around your waist and hold you closer, his head dropping softly to rest on your shoulder. A rare moment of intimacy admittedly, but one you didn’t shy away from as you brought your own hands to run soothingly through his hair. 

“T…” voice uncharacteristically soft, “are you-“ your voice faded with the beginnings of soft, tender pecks against your shoulder; your thoughts had faded into the abyss of your mind, breath caught in your throat, apprehensive of the warm mouth that was slowing travelling above your collarbone and up the slope of your neck. Each light touch sent a wild spread of tingles, reaching higher and higher till they found your jaw. You found your head slowly turning to meet his lips, half lidded eyes boring into his. 

At long last your mouths met, slowly, in a soft dance, sweet like honey trickling down a tree. It was an unusual kiss, no urgency, no unbridled lust, a kiss that forsaked time, a kiss that didn’t need more, it was a kiss that stopped the cogs of your brain from allowing you to function, a kiss that untangled the threads of reality and made you feel as if the very fabric of the universe no longer existed and instead you were floating in nothingness, but it didn’t matter because Taeyong’s lips were on yours.  

Parting is such sweet sorrow never had as much meaning to you as it did when Taeyong removed his lips from yours and the moment he did air rushed into your lungs, oxygen igniting a fire in your chest. A fleeting moment of silence and catching your breath before Taeyong was gently pulling you toward him again, this time tighter. 

You sighed against his mouth, as if it had been years, instead of the mere seconds that his lips had been parted from yours. Taeyong’s weight pushed you to move backward, clumsily, never leaving his lips, even as your head knocked against the wood of your door. In that moment his mouth pressed a bit harder, a bit more wanton, hands leaving their comfortable place on your hips to run over your legs, up your waist, into your hair; you felt the nimble fingers against the strands, the tugging around and then the slight relief of pressure when he had succeeded in releasing your tight bun. His hands immediately wove into your hair, pressing your head harder against him, a soft groan humming against your lips. 

Much to your protest his mouth left yours, but your complaints weren’t raised once you felt the sensation of his teeth softly nibbling at your neck. You were growing warmer by the second, soon to be going into a dangerous heat that would make you delirious. Your fingers ran his build, gripping him closer. You felt the pressure surely to bring several hickies along your neck moving onto your collarbones. 

A gentle heat spread on the flesh of your thigh gripped in Taeyongs hand. He encouraged your limb higher, to rest on his hip and moved to slot between your legs, even closer to your body. You sighed, his warmth binding into the pores of your skin and making you glow with warmth. 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip the moment Taeyong rolled his pelvis into you, deliciously grinding on that telltale spot with purpose.  His lips curve into a smile against your skin, taking pleasure in the change of your voice becoming soft and breathy, his name parting from your mouth like it was all you knew. 

Lips, in all their soft wonder, grazed your skin in a way that contradicted the deepness of his hips pressing into you. You could only cradle him impossibly closer in fear that if there was nothing for you to anchor to, you would really slip away. 

His fingers tickled your thighs, up to your hips to dig in, making your breath hitch, pain mutely registered the deeper he pressed. His ears keened for your low moans, the kind that bubbled from deep within your chest and came out more as a groan. It made him smirk.

A smirk that grew as your startled yelp echoed in the quiet, body thudding harshly against your door as Taeyong forcibly guided you to turn around.

Taeyong’s body closed in on you, fingers drawing into your hair and pulling back harshly to bear your neck for his lips to lay on. His hips dug into your backside, slow and torturous grind completely contrasting the aching grip he had on your hair. He was nibbling your ear lobe, seemingly deaf to your whispers and soft moans for something more. 

His hand laid on your hip, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow motion on your clothed skin. "You’re so pretty.” He purred, his hardness evident against you and making you wish to feel him bare, skin to skin. 

“Please.” You whisper, pressing back against him. “Please give it to me baby boy." 

A noise sounds from the back of his throat, barely audible but you heard it, that familiar sweet sound that always has you growing needier. 

He kisses at your shoulder in little pecks and runs his hand lower to the swell of your arse. He squeezes the flesh softly in his palm then slips lower between your legs to press up against your heat. You shudder, trembling slightly when the pads of his fingers slides in a slow movement up and down your centre. 

In a second he has lowered to his knees, a dull thud meeting your ears. Your hair falls against your back, Taeyong bringing his other hand to palm at your meaty flesh. He pushes your dress up, mouthing at the backs of your thighs, up to the teasing skin peeking out of your underwear. You hum in delight, Taeyong leaving no place of bared skin untouched, unkissed and when he presses his face between your cheeks and inhales deeply you whine. 

He tilts his head up further, teeth nipping, nose pressing further into you, meeting your own hips pushing back against him. 

"Relax, baby.” He hushes after pulling back. 

You rest your head against the door, taking slow and deep breaths, just allowing your body to succumb to Taeyong and his touch; he tilts himself away from you to stare at your bottom, to watch his fingers daintily run up and down your thighs, caress over your plumpness, and then finally his fingers tiptoe to the band of your underwear. 

The material crawls down your skin when he begins to lower it, taking his sweet time to let it slide over your cheeks, down your thighs and hit the floor. 

A long beat of silence passes, yet you don’t utter a word. Your ears are filled with the heavy thump of your heart, with adrenaline fueled blood rushing through your exhilarated body, and all you can do is wait, feel the heavy stare of Taeyong’s eyes slowly eyeing your bared flesh until tingles spread over your skin as if it were a physical touch.

The first touch of him on your skin has you sighing in a way that spoke of your need, of the way you crave for that softness unique to him, the care in which he handles you, sedating your body to all he has to offer. 

His hands are gentle and warm, gliding up the backs of your thighs till the weight of your globes are held in each palm. His fingers curl to squeeze and gently dig, lifting to part and reveal your temple that he loves to worship. 

His breath touches you first, like static against you, but then his tongue glides against where your arousal has begun to steadily stream and gone is that static charge, and in place is cloud covered skies lit by lightning, feeling the thunder rattle your insides until you are left shaking against the gentle laps of his tongue seemingly kissed by moonlight, for soon you see stars. 

The wood grates under the clawing of your nails, senses totally engrossed in the sound of Taeyong languidly slurping you up, in the feel of his tongue that seems to be made of magic sliding in a slow motion over your core, in the way he chokes a whimper into you that you know is caused by his adoration for your taste; you’re enamoured and willing to give him everything and know that he is willing to give it all to you, his Queen. 

And in a sudden moment, his spell is broken. Either you’re slow, or Taeyong was just that quick, for in a matter of indiscernible seconds he has risen to his feet, body pressed hard against yours and slipping between your slick folds are the tips of fingers, agile, without a hint of tease when they slide upwards, inside of you, so so embarrassingly easy. 

At the edge of where your sanity seemed to lay are knuckles pressing so harsh and purposefully against you, you lose your breath. Wetness trickles down his skin, like morning dew kissing a petal, the sound of his fingers being sucked in sending his blood rushing south, encouraging him to have you gushing even more for him. 

“I slide so easily into you, baby. You always open up so well for me, don’t you? Your body knows me. Loves me and the things I do to it, right?” He is so soft spoken in your ear, it makes you dizzy with the way the words part from his lips sweetly, yet turn your insides in the same effect his fingers do. 

You can’t find the will in yourself to reply. Not when your body is practically dropping down onto his fingers, making you feel as if they were pressing that much deeper. Not when you can clearly feel its shape, thin and knobbly against your walls that squeeze so tightly around him. But, Taeyong is having none of that, frustration getting the better of him, with a hiss moving his fingers urgently inside of you and all of a sudden, your juices barely able to spill from you with the force of his fingers fucking it back in. 

“Right?" 

Your voice cracks into a sound like glass shattering; broken, sharp, hitting at different volumes in an uneven pattern under the ferocity and speed of his fingers. Your throat hitches and your back bows and Taeyong knows that you’re almost there. Close, so, so close. 

”Please.“ You screech, trembling against the coolness of your door feeling utterly empty and devastated at the loss of your orgasm that you knew you could have reached in just a few more frustrating seconds. ”Please.“ You cry out breathless, sweaty palms squeaking against the door when your body begins to slide down. 

Taeyong has stepped back, distancing himself from you so he could watch the way your skin moved with your trembles, so he could watch you hopelessly hang on and still beg to be pushed to the edge. 

"Turn around.” His low voice carried in the quiet ,past the thump in your ears. He watched your lagged movements, your arms pushing weakly against your door until you were facing him, face flushed, perspiration shining on your skin. “Come here, baby.” You pushed yourself off the door and took the few steps until you were again so close his warmth became yours again. 

He cupped your face, thumbs stroking back and forth beneath your eyes where tears sat at your waterline. “Oh baby,” he began quietly, breath tickling your quivering lips, “don’t cry… I want you to do something for me, can you?” The immediate nod of your head had Taeyong’s soft and fond smile appearing, a smile so familiar to you, unlike how he was tonight. “The safe word that we use for me… you remember it right? I want you to remember if for yourself tonight, okay?" 

A small noise sounds from the back of your throat and you blink once, clearing your head when you reply soft and firm. ”Yes.“ 

Taeyong’s smile is warm, reaching his darkened orbs and making way for pure sunlight, so bright and staring down at you when he says, "good girl” before leaning in to give you a kiss so tender you feel tugs at your heart bringing about a painful ache. 

He parts with a heavy breath and in a moment the light in his eyes flicker until it has completely faded. “I want you to crawl, my love. And don’t stop till I tell you to." 

Your heart skips a beat, eyes trained on his when you lower to your knees. His throat bobs when he swallows, the sight of you staring up at him, so pliant, so beautiful, encouraging that chemical high to fill his body. Your eyes flutter, lashes touching your skin, becoming demure and looking away from his eyes to the floor when you begin to move.

It’s a weird sensation; you knees pressing to the hardness of your floor, the chill running up your body, feeling the linger of Taeyong’s eyes watching the way your body moves slow, the way you are half displayed, arousal coating you, dress creased and shifting. 

Just as you approach the first step, your body bows inward and a harsh startled pain filled gasp parts from your lips, pushed out when the palm of Taeyong’s hand cracks against the flesh of your arse. You still, shaking inches away from the stairs.

Another slap echoes in the eerie quiet and then his voice comes, "keep moving, baby. Don’t stop for nothing." 

Glossy lips quiver, body flushing with aroused heat and then you’re willing your limbs onwards. Your palm lays on the cool of your oak steps, a tingle of sharp shards striking your warmth when you push yourself up the stairs.

At the fourth step his hand comes down heavy again, and at the fourth step your voice breaks as do your movements, hips pressing to the edges of the stairs. "Do I have to repeat myself, baby?”

No. 

It is halfway up the stairs, skin near burning at the sensation of Taeyong’s continued strikes that he croaks good girl and slips two fingers that curl and hook, as if to push you along faster, yet breaks your pace and has your gripping the hardwood with a mewl. 

Taeyong doesn’t have to repeat himself, the feeling of him inside you urges you to move quicker, so much so that he nearly slips from your heat. The bass of his groan feeds into you, desire heavy in the air, surged on with each slap against your skin, with the sound of liquid honey stirring with the push and pull of fingers determined to guide and to taunt until you feel the contraction of muscles deep within.

“You can do it baby. You’re a Queen right? This is light work.“ He scoffs, tone patronising when he looks down at your tiring body, watching you stretch your hand out for that last step, so close, nearly there, until, a hand presses down between your shoulder blades and his fingers are anything but still. 

"JESUS- FUCKFUCKFUCK” God please I’m right there.

“Get up. You have one more step.” 

“Nononotaeyongnopleaseplease” Again. He denied you again. His shadow cast over your body, weak on the steps, subtly trembling and silently crying for yet another orgasm lost. 

 “Oh, do you feel a huge loss? I’m not sure I can help you baby, it’s gone now. I’m not very good at keeping things.” Ignoring your pleas, he slowly bent down, lips closing in on your ear. “Get up my Queen, or will I have to help you?” The dangerous undertone had you freezing up. You were still not used to this Taeyong; to his touch filled with dark lust, to that dulcet tone you were accustomed to now completely faded for something rough, gravelly, his tongue sharp, his eyes akin to a black hole ready to swallow you, it was all so foreign. 

“Help it is.” He hushed, fingers sliding into your hair and all but dragging you over that last step, ignoring your startled cry, or your hands reaching for his. 

Your knees burned and when Taeyong finally came to a stop in front of the hallway mirror you collapsed at his feet. 

“You want a king? Suck this dick like I’m the only one worthy of you, my Queen.” Your glossy eyes stared up at him, already looking down at you whilst his hands busied themselves with his belt and zipper. You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting on your knees until you were half up, with a hand balanced on his thigh and your other grabbing for his half hard length as soon as he had shifted his boxers lower. 

Taeyong’s throat bobbed harshly, dark eyes taking in the rare sight of you unkempt, hair askew, faintest trails of black in your dried tears, but most of all, those eyes. Wide and so eager, so ready to please him. 

Your tongue flattened from his base and dragged up to his tip, your eyes locked on his face as you tapped his dick against your tongue, then closed your mouth around his tip, allowing saliva to dribble out of your mouth. Your fist twisted up and down, mouth focused on suckling the head of his dick, drawing a pretty moan from Taeyong’s pink lips.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his stare turning more affectionate, thumbs sweeping back and forth gently on your skin. “You’re so perfect,” He whispered. “So beautiful, so stunning, my God.”

His hands shift into your hair as you begin to follow your hand down his length, taking in more and more steadily. 

Taeyong’s mouth gapes, watching you with furrowed brows, totally engrossed in the sensation your lips wrapped around him brings, his arousal only spiking at the sound of his dick rutting against your soft spot. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good with your mouth.” His fingers tighten in your hair and he slowly drags your head further down, feeling your throat constrict at the invasion. “It’s a shame you have to say dumb shit isn’t it?” He grunts, dragging you backward slowly, then down again, taking his time, ensuring you make his dick nice and wet. Your whimper does not deter him from his attempt to breach your throat, his grip firm when he pulls you down again, slow, ensuring each inch is felt when he slips down the back of your throat, gently holding you in place even as you splutter around him, body wanting to recoil away from him, but Taeyong would not allow that, nestling deep as possible. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that had pooled in your eyes sliding down your face and meeting the drool spilling past your lips. He draws back carefully, letting his tip rest in your mouth, allowing you a few seconds to inhale through your nose and then carefully sliding in deep again, repeating this rhythm of slowly filling your throat, of letting his length block your airways. 

“So goddamn beautiful, yet so fucking infuriating.” His voice has become shaky, breathy and distant whispers as he watches you. Follows the gentle slide of his dick, of your mouth stretching around him, how you were becoming ruined, dirtied by your own spit, by your running makeup. “Always doubting me, my Queen. Do I look like a king yet?" 

The moment your eyes roll back, a weird sensation passes over you. There is a heavy pressure in your head, making you feel as if your skull could implode, your heart is as erratic as your body panics at the lack of air, but then it is as if a wave of calm washes over you, vision becoming fuzzy until it feels as if the black edging your eyes would take over completely. 

Your body hits the floor. Eyes unfocused, head lulling around against the hard surface, your head so disoriented you don’t even notice how hard your body is heaving to fill your lungs with air to prevent you from passing out after being denied oxygen for so long. 

Taeyong immediately crouches down, sweeping his hand beneath your head and allowing it to rest on his thigh, caring hands stroking your cheek, cooing at you. "Shh, breathe baby. You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here, always here.” Your eyes finally stop rolling and you find the ability to focus on his voice and his voice alone, clinging to it as the blackness fades and you finally stabilise your breathing. 

You blink the remaining tears away and find Taeyong, your sweet, sweet angel Taeyong looking down at you with the gentlest smile. “You good?” He asks quietly. Swallowing hard, you whisper back, “I’m good." 

He leans down to close the gap, stealing your breath in an entirely different way when your lips meet, a soft collision that felt like sinking into a pillow of clouds, warm emotion wrapping around the two of you. He pulls back with his eyes closed, his breath fanning your face when he breathes out and opens his eyes to stare adoringly at you again. "We aren’t finished yet, my Queen." 

Taeyong keeps control when he pushes you to sit up and when he strips you of your dress and underwear. His hands travel your body as if he is exploring a newfound beauty that God has blessed him with, fingers kissed by angels and fluttering like their wings. His fingers tickle up your neck and flick off your chin and you find yourself wanting to say take me my king.  

Instead, you are silent, awaiting his next move; he shifts on his knees behind you, until he is able to drape himself over your body, his weight a false security blanket, clothed chest brushing the sweaty expanse of your back, a hand, one finger at a time laying the curve of your neck, thumb and fingertips against your jaw, keeping your head up and making eye contact in the mirror. This way you are able to see the dark depths of his eyes as he guides his length to your dripping folds, his tip playing against your slit, up and down, brushing against your clit, until finally, you feel him press against your entrance, your walls already clenching, eagerly waiting to be filled. 

The first inch is euphoric, the first hint of stretch welcomed. The second inch, dizzying, lips pulled between teeth and eyes glossing over, out of focus but completely engrossed in the sensation at the same time. The third, filling you just as slow, is maddening, your warm heat attempting to swallow more of him in, body doing the begging for you. Inch after inch only aggravates the trembles, only sedates your tense muscles until you are slack and at complete mercy to his penetration. When he finally bottoms out, it is a feeling indescribable, to be one with him, to be completely full of him. 

“How does that feel, my Queen? Is my dick serving your sweet little cunt well?” An almost distressed moan leaves your lips, nails scratching at the floor in desperation.  Taeyong leans even further over you until your chest presses down to the floor,  your head resting to the side and all you can see is your tear stained face clutched by his hand. The first pull of his length feels like a shock, your body feeling yourself become empty, and Taeyong kisses your cheek, lips hotly resting by your ear when he slowly fills you up again.”Tell me my love. Is this what you wanted? Is this how you like your king?” He punctuates his next words by slowly sliding back into you again. “To own your pussy? To make you a mess? To make you cum so hard you forget how to function?”

Your breath hitches and as he pushes that last inch back in you gasp an airy, fucked out yes, voice not even sounding like your own. He chuckles against your ear, a new kind of shiver wracking through your being at its deepends, its sinister undertone. And that’s when he fucks you harder. Dragging his length back slow only to rut into you with one hard thrust that shakes every inch of your being. 

“Oh, my lovely queen you feel so fucking good. I could stay buried in you forever.” He rasps out, another harsh push of his hips. You feel drool slide out of your gaping mouth, you can see your eyes, murky and dark, so foreign as they stare back at you in the mirror. And Taeyong. You can see Taeyong’s eyes running your sweaty and pliant form in your reflection, the way your body responds to him, the way he makes you feel, the way he is taking you as he should: Like you are his. 

“Don’t you have anything to say now? C’mon my dear Queen, give me some tips on leadership” He suddenly sits up, pulling you up by your jaw, making you watch the tears stream down your face, his cock slowly sliding in and out of you as you babbled. “Don’t tell me, you’ve become totally incoherent for my dick baby? You really can’t think? Oh? But you were so snappy back then, so quick to bring up my lack of shortcomings. But here you are, a limp mess.” He hisses into your ear, dark eyes staring you down. 

“Too inexperienced.” He drags up back to meet his harsh thrust.

“Weakness.” He growls, circling his hips against your soft flesh, his dick rubbing against your walls. 

“Imsorryimsorrypleaseimsorry” You slur, clenching your jaw when a sudden wave of something electrifying runs through you. 

“What was that?” He hisses, pulling you up against his chest.

"I-I’m sorry.” You whimper. “You are my king. You’re mine.” You whisper, looking up at him, turning your head as much as you can under his grip to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

Taeyong silently shifts, eyes never leaving yours. He brings his other hand up to join your jaw, fingers interlocking atop your neck to keep your head back looking up at him. His lips rest on your forehead, hot and heavy pants and engulfing eyes staring back into yours and as he witnesses the desperation in your eyes shift into something more he rolls his hips, sinfully slow hitting hard and that precise moment when he’s near;y as deep as he can be inside of you, he pushes hard, pressing his hips tightly against your backside, and this is how he continues, fluid slow and hard thrusts fucking into you, the slight pressure on your throat making you feel lightheaded and as if you were on the verge of floating away. 

Taeyong grunts, pulling your head back further if possible, moving his face down to lick into your mouth, to kiss your lips carefully and soft and swallow your sounds each time rattles your body with the strength of his strokes and in a sudden, overwhelming moment, your skin is alight, your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and your pulse is in your ears, a loud thump thump as your blood rushes and you shake in Taeyong’s arms so much so you’re afraid you will fall apart as you cum at long last. 

Taeyong allows your body to fall to the floor, his chest immediately pressing down on your back whilst his hand scrambles for yours to press it further into the floor and he begins to rut faster against you, panting and groaning and moaning all kinds of sweet melodies in your ear, his other hand reaching down and grabbing your hip to lift for his hand to slide under and find your clit. You cry out, broken and weak as his fingers  incessantly rub circles and he continues fucking into you, murmimg word sin your ear that you can’t even process and as he pushes deeply into you, you feel the spurts of his orgasm filling you up, his groan fanning over your skin as he collapses atop of you, fingers still on your slit until he can’t feel your walls spasming around him again. 

It seems like forever until he rolls off of you, staring up at the ceiling panting while you lay immobile on your stomach. 

After a moment of gathering himself, Taeyong looks over at you, gulping before deciding to roll over and gently press his lips to your shoulder, his delicate fingers carefully moving the hair plastered to your face out of the way.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Hmm…” You reply after a few seconds, voice croaky, blinking the fuzziness from your eyes. “I am sorry you know… But in this busi-” 

“I know.” Taeyong is silent for a moment, thinking over his words. “I know my place,” He finally sighs, “I was just… Hurt… I thought you would have spoken to me first, but when you acted cold and called me out… it hurt.” 

“I know, I didn’t mean to hurt you… Next time I won’t interfere… What did they say anyway?” 

Taeyong turns his cheek to the side resting against your warm skin. “I explained everything to them. I told them how I had sorted it. They were happy.”

“You…You sorted it? How?” You shift and Taeyong lifts his head, watching as you turn your head to face him. 

Smirking, “If you had spoken to me first, you would have known how. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” He promises, sweetly pecking you on the lips. He rests his head on the floor next to your head, the both of you quietly staring into each other’s eyes and you feel your eyes threatening to close when Taeyong brings his hand up to massage his fingers through your hair. “Let’s go to bed, I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” Taeyong moves to stand and then reaches out to help you and you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re still the little spoon.”

Taeyong’s eyes glittered as if the sun had caught the stars waiting in them, lips pulled back in a wide, adoring grin. “Of course, my Queen." 

[poc-movie-supremacy]

Guardian Angel

Remember that post I made with Joey as beth’s guardian angel? Yeah I turned it into a fic. I hope you guys like it! Comments likes and reblogs are appreciated. Enjoy!

----

Joey opens his eyes to see a vast auditorium. He’s in a magician’s costume that mimick’s the one his father used to wear. The crowd is cheering, and applauding for him, but he doesn’t know why. He can’t really remember anything, and he’s freaking out. 

The crowd asks for another trick and he gives them one like its muscle memory. The trick was complex. It was a trick he never learned.

Joey opened his mouth to call for his father. No sound came out of his mouth. The crowds cheered loudly for him, but it wasn’t happy applause. It had a dark undertone to it, and Joey kept performing tricks, scared of what would happen to him if he stopped.

After a few hours, probably, someone called for him. Hastily Joey bowed to the audience and followed the person backstage. “Dad, Mom!” 

They took him to this house, theirs apparently. No one explained anything to him. When he hugged his parents, he realized his side was hurting. Joey asked his mom about it, but she just bit back tears and tried not to cry. He didn’t want to upset her further, so he decided to figure it out on his own. 

The doors to the house opened up and he saw his grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts and uncles all waving excitedly at him. They ushered them into the house hugging them and talking happily as they went in. He winced as they continued to hug him on his bad side. Joey was confused. He went to all their funerals, or the ones who...

Died

When, he lost his card, and he knelt down, and..

Suddenly Joey shivered like someone stepped on his grave. Wait. Suddenly as he got a vision, or something, he could see his actual grave with someone kneeling on it.  They were wearing sneakers, jeans and a blue sweater decorated with yellow stars. Their hair was in an afro-oh Joey realized that the person knelling on his grave was Beth. 

He strained to hear what she was telling him. “I got you these flowers, I remember you said you liked them cause your aunt used to grow flowers. She was at the funeral. Cameron was there too.” Beth bit back a sob and put on a watery smile. “I think he misses you. His dad’s back in town too. They said it was weird. Ice on the roads, in the middle of fall. Anyways, I finished that book we were reading, the Witching hour. The one with the famous female magician. It was a good book. The girl, she’s so brave. Her father ended up being super proud of her. You would’ve liked it.” Beth had to pause to let a few sobs lose. 

Joey felt like he was going to have a panic attack. He want to go to Beth, and comfort her. Tell her it would be alright, but his mind was already taking him to an old memory. It was the day they died, but the scope of the picture was wider than what he remember. In the trees there was a man looking like a cracked ice sculpture examining the scene before him. Joey wondered why this moment was important. Then Ice Sculpture man blew out and he saw his card move. 

“No.” Joey didn’t think that could’ve been the reason he died. Then the man shifted and he looked like... Mr. Mahkent? Joey watched him further, through different memories to see what the hell was actually going on throughout Blue Valley. 

~~~

So... superheroes were a thing. He watched proudly as Beth managed to save Yolanda from Mrs. Brooks. Joey really wished he didn’t have to see her in that outfit, though. Their fighting was incredible, although a small part of him did worry for Beth’s safety. He watched somewhat closely to make sure Beth was ok. 

~~~

The ISA’s words echoed in his head. They wanted to kill the Junior JSA. Beth. Joey watched their every move more carefully to make sure Beth doesn’t join him anytime soon. Soon, he realized he had some control on the comings and goings down on earth. As he watched over them, he tested out his abilities. 

Joey noted how much time the school delinquent, Rick Harris, spent with Beth. It was interesting to say the least. Rick seemed to almost soften with Beth. “You always were special Beth.” Joey whispered fondly. 

Yolanda smiled more often now. A weight, even a tiny bit, seemed to have lifted off her shoulders. Now, she’s happy. Joey’s happy for her. He also notes that she has a special smile reserved for just Courtney. Joey smiles happy knowing that one of the happiest girls in school finally seems happy again. 

He knew everything was going to go to shit the minute Dr. King woke up. He didn’t think it would be this bad, though. Dr. King is in cahoots with Mr. Mahkent and they plan on doing diabolical things together. Henry Jr. teams up with the JSA. Joey winces at Courtney’s choices, but it’s interesting to note how Yolanda handled the situation and why Courtney choose him. Joey wondered if Courtney ever got lonely in her childhood. 

It gives him a headache to try and keep an eye on all of the JSA members at once. At first he kept his main focus on Courtney, Yolanda, and Henry and prayed that Rick kept an eye on Beth. 

Soon though, he realized that Courtney and Yolanda worked well together and Rick was trying to release a seven-foot zombie. Thankfully, Joey doesn’t need to intervene because Beth’s voice filled with terror was enough to distract Rick from Solomon Grundy. They eventually met up with the others by a gate, the last obstacle from the main world. Meanwhile Joey took a minute to close the door to Solomon Grundy’s cage. It wasn’t open by much, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. When he caught up with them, Henry was facing his father while the other JSA members watched on in horror. 

When Joey saw the tunnel start to rumble and crash down on him he used his powers to simultaneously protect the JSA and hit Henry King Sr. square in the head. Before going to see a former classmate, Joey made sure that Pat and Barbara picked up the JSA from the tunnels. 

“Nice to see you again, Henry.” Henry King Jr. new ghost stared at him confused. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I’ll explain on the way. Come on, I get anxious if I’m not keeping an eye on the Junior JSA for a while.” Henry looked at him confused. 

“You did a wonderful job protecting them and all.” Joey complimented Henry as they walked to Joey’s house. 

After Joey assimilated Henry to the afterlife, Joey showed Henry a bunch of magic tricks as they let the lives of the Junior JSA play out in the background. “Do they like each other?” Henry asked Joey. Beth and Rick were sitting in one of the old cars in Pat’s auto shop. Beth was trying to understand how the car worked while Rick was examining his father’s notebook. In other words they were desperately ignoring the fact they saw their classmate die in front of them. 

“Probably? But then again, I used to spend time with Beth and we weren’t dating.”

“You weren’t?”

Joey wonders if he should tell Henry that he’s actually gay, but he thinks that’s something to save for later. “No, Beth’s just... She’s one of a kind.” Henry nodded like he agreed with Joey and they continued trying out different magic tricks. Joey wanted to see what they could accomplish with Henry’s telepathic abilities. The possibilities are endless. 

Henry looked torn when they found out about the ISA’s plan. “I died for- we died for this? This is why my dad murdered me? Why aren’t they just politicans?” Joey shrugged helplessly at Henry. 

“My father is way too damn dramatic. You didn’t have to kill me for this stupid plan to work!” Henry screamed at the window to the other world.

“They are definitely too extreme in their methods. Come on and focus, Henry, they still want to kill our friends.” Henry nodded and he and Joey kept a close eye on what was happening. 

“They’re splitting up in too many different ways.” Henry complained. 

“Well, let’s focus on the guy’s in the tunnel and keep everyone else in the background.” Joey said. They watched as the JSA and the ISA versed each other. Joey was impressed at how much their fighting abilites improved. 

Henry wanted to puke when he saw his dad masquerade as him to try and trick Yolanda. “He’s going to hurt her.” Henry panicked. 

“Save her, use your powers, I’m going to keep an eye on the rest of them. “ Joey split the window in threes. One on Yolanda, one on the battle in the tunnels, and another on Beth. Henry channelled his ghostly powers to subconsciously warn Yolanda of his father’s trickery. She slashed his throat and she watched him die. Joey cheered happily, then gasped when Cindy stabbed her father. Henry and Joey looked at each other stunned. 

“I mean, you shouldn’t gass your kids.” Joey reasoned. 

Henry nodded in agreement. “Gambler’s releasing Grundy and sending Jordan after Beth.” 

“You take Grundy and I’ll take Jordan.” Joey told him. The window was now split in two one on Grundy and one on Beth. 

“Hey he’s taking off the robot arms!” Joey noted that Rick had four minutes left on his hour. 

“Help me rewind the hourglass.”

“What?”

“Come on, put more time on his clock.” It took a lot of strength, but they managed to give Rick one extra minute. Sadly though, they didn’t realize how close Jordan was to Beth and Barbara. 

They were too late to save Chuck, but Joey managed to heal Beth’s concussion from her slam against the wall. He stayed with her until Yolanda ushered her out the door to watch Jordan and Courtney fight each other. 

Somehow Jordan managed to survive the fall. Joey looked for ways to somehow help the JSA when he saw it. Mike drove along the street haphazardly until Joey guided the car straight into Icicle. (It was the only straight thing he ever did). Not all the ISA members were taken down that day, but their heavy hitters were. Joey finally relaxed knowing that Beth and the others were safe.

~~~

Beth kneeled in front of Joey’s grave uncaring of the fact her jeans were now dirty. “Hey Joey. Long time no see. Sorry about that. It’s been a hectic few months. Jordan died. It’s funny in a horrible way, he also died getting hit by a truck. Can’t wait for the influx of drunk driving talks in school.” Beth paused as she thought. Rick waited calmly a little ways behind her. They had been planning on going to the ice cream parlor, but she wanted to take a detour. “I’m not as lonely as before.” She whispered to the grave. “I have friends now. Rick doesn’t mind my rambling, and Yolanda also read the Witching hour. She said we can discuss it together. I lost Chuck, but Rick says he can fix it. I hope he’s right. I have to go, but I thought I should say that I miss you. I hope you and Henry are having a wonderful time up wherever you are. Bye.”

Joey discreetly wiped tears from his eyes. “I miss you too Beth. We’re okay. Me and Henry? We’re okay.”